Niyati and the Porcelain Men

Today I had a lucid dream
scared maybe
At first
A bit
but I knew
I could do whatever I have dreamt of
if ever

“If ever I would know I were in a dream!”

Talking to the insentient and plants
in No words
but as if some kind of creative elasticity
Elongating through time and between you and I
moving them with my eye –
connected things and beings
honoring limitations of their body
Unitedly driven by my inspiration
in their authenticity
not transforming into something else
or of a reverie

And they stayed so
in response to our shared rhythm
only as what they were or could be
At a place called Niyati

That was a kind of communication without expectation
Like a dance without any attachment
Free
And for its own sake only
because
Because I was aware

Am aware

Knowing the scary
The only scary
could be my mind
but well tamed and choicelessly
staging itself now in a unified harmony
Having nothing left to hide
Nothing left at all other than what is
I – aware of its dream state
humbly play
and
this bizarre world
almost an experiment

assuming a body for myself and others and things
Animating the porcelain men
what could have been spiders
Initially made of dark ink spots
Splashing cheerfully into space
To be shaped into something
by the artful steering of a mind
Through the curvilinear dance
mushrooming
The porcelain men!

They behave as they should
like bees
Each one having a rank of his own
have had a meeting yesterday along a table
about their important matters
Not knowing they are my mind born entities
I – unwilling to interfere or come eye to eye with any one of them –
Sneaked out and went to this enchanting flower realm instead

I saw a rose plant without any flowers
looked at its missing blossoms and
We connected rhythmically
a prolific dynamism started blooming red roses
Pulling the skin towards a child’s thrill
enlightening a face with amusement
but then again keeping the source unchanged
through the tuning sound of a ‘ya’
“ya yaa yaaa”
which was also a formula
for the rose plant to convert the reds to yellows at once
and without a trace of its red past
blooming real fast
now!
Really! and I saw it happening!

Holding my breath ! for one slight moment of observation of the
“If ever I could capture this wonder”
what normally could take days by a stop motion
Trying to convince my mind that there should be a way to record this dream
Remembering I left my phone where the porcelain men were

Flushing big yellow roses of all sizes
all of which happening because of my presence
with my voice changing … in tune with my “ya” rhythm
And that moment
Dong! Bong! Clank!
Wumpth!

the alarm went on

such big shame
I knew it! kinda stuff followed
My eyes shut

Shall I go back?
It’s cold in here

I knew yes
this world and that one
connected at once
The separation ended For a moment
the limitation of one dimensionality
Created by my mind
in this waking reality
It is cold yes
coming from the thought constructs
Gently warming up the cold now

as Mahabharata says:
“Whatever is here is everywhere, whatever is not here is nowhere to be found.”


Niyati is the energy of being situated in only one particular place - Siva Sutras
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Sofa Legs

What is a day when you wake up in meditation
this body is inseparable from this light
and the mellowly blowing signless flag
singing only to one side
and the brown edge
beckoning
nothing else than its edgeness

Skin having already freed itself from the weight bearing traces of the dust of my mind
capturing smooth
the light –
melting differences over the bumpless
recalling velvety longing

not for the sake of the material but
Saluting
the freedom that has once recorded this twin light
long ago
on such surface

for its manifestation

bringing awareness about the tempter
on senses
and again imploding its imaginary cavities
on the touchless curves of a sofa
newly displaying the angle of
its wooden edge
drawing a perfect eighty five degree Invisible line
in space
towards the webless corner -just noticed-
where the eye gets relieved by its neatness
and relaxes
becoming the point of a trivalent stillness

This – the edgy- is a sister of these Sofa legs
Four in all

implying itself as a sexiest part of its couch –
couch of a type – as it says
owning each other
now
Like body and sense
in one posture
and in its remembered object name

and maybe ready to unfold memories Alas
if there would be openness to listen
or if I were what it could allure me to be for its charm

but No – it says nothing this time
mending time through fractals of its becoming my spaceless space
with the old radio set aside
never playing more than its silent tunes for those skaters in an etching of an ancient landscape hanging on the wall above since …
since before the internet age
showcasing a memory that nobody knows and can see or hear but smell maybe
beside a winter blossom
flourishing its inspiration

not understanding each other but requiring the same attention as my body does
or as the realization of a thought that I could not run up that hill as fast as that dog –

a dog being observed behind a glass and I am unsure if this observation could have effect on the style it puts to the run

or if my observation is being observed and that may be a reason of its action as such
as if it does so to show off – Really!
unknowing to who or what
and then again still …

AaaaaW !!!! Shut up!

No no no ! I should stop now

what may make a catch less of a catch
putting things of importance of a day on a scale of indifference
and then again what is this nosy urge
unallowing
interfering
asking for order!?!

It is a play.

See ?!
even if you like it or not
I am in and such is
You yOU YoU

A play as true as the one watching
Same actually –
Same as the one watching

Watching or steeped in
Space in Space

and/or
No Space

and/or
non of these Things

nonetheless
A day remains
Unending
as the mind fades to embrace
Wordless

whisper
(Like the day
rainbows are manifesting
from the heart
of this inspiration)