Thoughts are birds

....flying in the skies of Consciousness

This marks the beginning of my third night duty since I began blogging two months ago. Mornings during night duty gives me a lot of time for meditation. The thoughts began as single sentences
1. Consciousess is everywhere, but only the human beings and not the objects and other beings are aware of it.

2. Thoughts are like birds in the sky of consciousness. What is there is seen and at times shown to others.

3. My mind is the biggest and the only home where the Earth is the basement and the stars illuminate my terrace eternally.

4. Poets are those who pick up thoughts, cut, knead and cook them into tasty dishes and serve it to all.

5. Eyes are organic glass which conceal less of the divine than the rest of the body.

And then I began to put it all in writing....

When the bowl of cornflakes moved into my stomach...what was in the bowl is now inside me in some other form and that will shortly move around my body in many ways. A part of it will become a part of my form, emotions and thoughts and the remaining will soon exit to reach where it finally belongs.

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Pranayama and meditation is all about experiencing and being aware of the consciousness in every cell of the being.
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When I begin to write, thoughts stop. Looks like Nature does not like her secrets to be told to all the world.
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Chin Mudram Yoga Darshanam
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Thoughts are the birds that sometimes fly past in the sky of consciousness. There is abundant grace to just see it swim past. But to catch and imprison it is the gross commerce of the butcher.
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In the mind, those are my neighbours who think the way I do and feel with me. Not even staying in different houses, but in the same room.
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This power of meditation that has seized me these few years...When I sit quietly and begin to focus, I feel an invisible presence of something immobile in the bridge of my nose, between my eyebrows, through my upper and lower jaws and some in the space between the two rows of my teeth - some pressure. Is it the stillness of the air inside a pot or water in a quiet placid lake? It is so overpowering that I am unable to get out of it, unless there's something else that I have to do. With such a face immobile, all this writing has been possible. When I close my eyes, I can't but observe that immobility once again. That rock like, powerful structure that moves me, is not as powerful as something within it that watches it, cool and unperturbed and can any moment melt this being into its infinite vast.
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The flow of Grace, when it happens is unstoppable. I just have to sit, wait and watch, instead of hankering here and there.
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It is the thoughts that flow through me, into my pen, then ink and then the paper. When I can see myself, the pen and the ink, I fail to see the invisible thoughts that are contained in the words.
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I asked for Grace and God gave me. I asked for Silence and he is giving it to me in abundance. When I am in Grace and in Silence - there is nothing around me that is not graceful and no noise that is not silent.

.....more on my next blog....