Author's Diction~Vipin Behari Goyal: August 2016

Sunday, August 28, 2016

Floating in The Vacuum With No Purpose

Floating in the vacuum with no purpose, not a one.
Why in the night sky are the lights on?

~ Fleet Foxes - Blue Spotted Tail


 Floating is a perfect posture for the thinking mind. Floating is a mental state reached by practicing. Whatever you need for physical buoyancy, deep breathing, lungs full of air, more oxygen in the blood, relaxed body, the first thing for you is to believe that you can float.

The same is true with the life. The journey starts with a belief. If you believe you can, you can. Then you need a dose of oxygen, positive energy. An oxygenated mind is like fertile soil. The ideas germinate and find a purpose in the lights put on in the night sky, a purpose in every single breath that you inhale and exhale.

Buoyancy is a principle of Physics. It is just an upward force exerted by a fluid that opposes the weight of an immersed object, or in other words, anything with higher density than water, will sink in water. The human body is naturally buoyant like all other animals, but they need to learn swimming. Most of other animals have a natural instinct to swim by keeping their nose above water. Mammalian Diving Reflexes, Vertical Anatomy of Ape, Guerrilla and Homo sapiens and Theory of Evolution are interesting attempts to understand this unresolved issue.

In the ocean of life, mind is under a weight of memories and past deeds, hope is the upward thrust required for buoyancy. Righteous deeds carry the consent of conscience and are light in gravity. Wrong deeds are conducted under temptation against the conscience, become heavy in gravity and cause a downward thrust. Every human being is a mix of these two streams. Wrong deeds or bad conduct creates hurdles in achieving the object of completeness. Complex situations are gifts of nature to advance evolution. Temptations have tendency to camouflage. Most of them elope when identified. Repentance is the hope of being forgiven.

"The highest type of man is he who effectively unites in himself the widest variety, complexity, and completeness of life."~ Spencer

Our Central Nervous System and Skeletal System are obsessed with specific gravity of the body. Salty water gives a buoyancy that makes our mind free to concentrate on other issues like elevation. Secretion of chemicals also determines the nature of our response. Adrenaline causes fear and extra glucose help to run or retort aggressively. However, by meditation the secretion of chemicals can also be controlled.

The human mind is said to be superior in the whole animal kingdom. Prenatal memories or memories of past incarnations are also possible. Man chases the secured buoyant life he had in the uterus. Right brain, which governs creativity and imagination is more active in a buoyant state. The homeostasis is ideal in a floating position, since external stimuli are at a minimum.

Buoyancy is bliss. We have arbitrary notions of progress that creates conflict in the mind. The Unknowable sets up a vacuum. Though acceptance of unknowable also implies that we have certain knowledge of the thing (Spencer). In the great sea of existence, we are a transient wave. The wave is an effort to restore the force of gravity.

Next time, when you are in water, seek buoyancy and float. Christ could walk on water. Many Buddhist monks walk on water, even today. Learn Buoyancy.

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©  Vipin Behari Goyal

Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Confessions of a Teenager

Butterflies can't see their wings. They can't see how truly beautiful they are, but everyone else can ~ Naya Rivera

Reflection On Perception: Photo By Ashu

I hate to look at myself in the mirror. I am not ugly. I look good. My mirror is perfect, but I am not. I do not like many mirrors in the house. I have kept only one, above the washbasin. People expect me to have at least one at this place. It depresses me. My day starts with a sigh of sorrow to face another day of self-deception.
My parents repeat the same sermons every morning as if it is great news. They think I am tactless. I believe what they say, though I do not know exactly what the meaning of tact is. I like the way I am, but the obsession of being tactful has made me ugly. Why all those who claim to love me, crave for my improved version. Why do they lack empathy if they are not narcissistic?
It is better to be ‘tactful evil’ than to be ‘tactless good’. They advise but do not clarify. I cannot be a puppet. I do not have any strings attached. Not even in my mind. I walk, sleep and wake up like a robot. Can you expect a robot to be tactful?
My well-wishers say, “You have talent, tactics can make you successful”. It may be another way to say that I am dumb, which I am not. I do not appease my parents, teachers and bosses by keeping a record of their birthday and marriage anniversary, nor do I play vice versa with my friends and colleagues. I can be as jubilant or sad as you can, without being verbose about it. You may find me a ‘good company’ even if I remain silent.
I perceive the things in fragments. I take time to visualize a concept in its totality. If people do not have patience, they walk away. I do not mind. I cannot proceed unless I am sure. I vouch for the Truth. Society does not appreciate the truth. They seek pieces of glass with diamond cut.
Tact bridges the gap between talent and success. Everyone has a different idea of success. Society approves people who chase prosperity, fame and status. It makes society indispensable. For me success is happiness, but I have no idea what makes me happy. The same things often have made me feel gloomy.
I want to spend time with innocent young people. I find them more creative than experienced, wiser people.  They had had their life; I want to have my own. The hypocrite behavior of people around me is confusing, but ultimately I will find my way. May be not today, or tomorrow, but eventually, I will. I am not in a hurry. If time mould me to be one of them, I would commit suicide. However, I doubt if any of them have the courage to do so.

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©  Vipin Behari Goyal

Wednesday, August 10, 2016

The River is Everywhere

“The River is Everywhere.”

                           ― Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

CC at Ganges in Banaras

For long, long hour rain writes the story on the breast of the river. In different moods. Fast and slow, mild and fierce, stroke after strokes. Clouds feed the ink. Thunder claps, lightening cries. The story is tragic. The story is a comedy. The story is the story of life. 

Rain stops writing. River is always flowing indifferently. Rain has writer's block. The boredom of repeating the words, which have no meaning. As purposeless as life. River has swelled. Like desires. She looked so thin and cute. She has crossed margins. Wayward flow of life.

River is older than civilization. Richer than Kings. More thoughtful than sages. She is also like an ignorant peasant youthful girl. It has reflections. The trees, cattle drinking water, or taking a bath, children ready to jump, blue sky, birds, clouds, the bridge everything is recorded on the breast of the river. But nothing remains forever. Every moment a new story is drafted with different characters. Continuity of flow causes stress. Every moment is a pull and push. The future becomes present and past at that single moment.

River has problems with ungrateful people. Those who take her for granted. Those who render her feel dirty and ugly. She silently seeks to teach them. They have inflated ego and swollen pride. They do not understand. Then river retorts. It is not an easy decision. She finds another path, her course. New terrain, new people. They welcome her with open arms. The abandoned path becomes barren. People beg for mercy. She does not listen. She can’t.

No other part of nature is dynamic like her. Nor so omnipresent. For the theist, she is symbolic of God, for an atheist, a friend. She prefers being friend rather than God. Friends do care. Theists have destroyed her. They are the enemy of civilization.

She sings beautiful songs, with blissful abundance. The rainbow plays the tune; birds chirp and wind create sound with the rustling of leaves. The symphony played in the orchestra of nature.

 The river splits the world apart. On one end, are sensual on the other end, abstemious. Denial and acceptance are same for the river. River has bridges. Root bridges are hereby replaced by concrete bridges. The other side always is more enchanting. Bridges facilitate swift transformation, swimming across the river is a miracle.

Look at the face of the river. The turbulence is merely apparent. Deep down, she has reflection of your soul. It has many stories to share. She has ancient and modern stories in her treasure. You should have patience. Listen to them.

"I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers."


Letters to CC:

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©  Vipin Behari Goyal