I have been trying to come up with terms with this world. It is impossible because you see so much insanity all around that it doesn't make sense at all.
I may have found words for the things that happened in 12th during those quiet night hours of Kota. I have been reading and listening to Krishnamurthi's lectures a bit too much lately, and it is amazing how much just listening to raw truth has an effect on your being.
Recently, I listened to a Q&A session of Krishnamurthi where he was asked the famous question, Did God create man or did man create God? His answer, and I agree, man created God. So, there is no supernatural thing; all that there is is this material world. That must be the next question that comes to mind. No, there is an intelligence, not something external to us but within us. Buddha called it Nirvana; Advaita Vedanta calls it Brahman; Krishnamurthi calls it ground. It seems logical.
If we look closely, we will find that what we identify ourselves with is this image of us that we have created right from childhood and that we keep on creating and playing all our lives. We can't look at void, so we fill our lives with various images—of us, of others, of the world—to fill that void. I don't have a problem with that, but it becomes a problem and is a problem when those images take up all our mental space, and it becomes a compulsion to seek solace in those images because we are so scared to look at the void.
What bothers me is the apathy that people have for others. There is so much wrong going on in the world, and it keeps on going without a break. Things beyond thought. Thought has created so many marvelous things, but it has also brought so much destruction. Man is born free, but everywhere he is in chains. One is slave to capitalism, or to communism, or to some other thing. Rationalising everything, justifying oneself in every circumstance. I am as guilty as anyone else is. I am no different from humanity. The world is me; I am the world.
I regret some things. I regret not speaking my mind when it mattered. I regret hesitating when there was no need to hesitate. I regret wasting so much time, which I might still be doing. There is nothing for my personal self, but there is so much to do, so much to talk about, so much to tell. I wish I had done some things differently. I wish I had been much more communicative during college days and during job days. I made friends, and I let them go or pushed them away.
I need to chart out a way to make people more introspective rather than blabbering out everything that comes to mind.
