Tuesday 24 January 2012

Bliss

Bliss is always something that comes from the beyond; it is always a gift, never an achievement. You cannot be ambitious for it; you can only pray. You cannot desire it; you can only wait. If your waiting is total and your patience is infinite it comes in its own time. And when it comes of its own accord it transforms your whole being. When somehow you manage to bring it, it never comes in the first place, and what comes in its place is something false, manufactured by the mind. Apparently it is bliss, but only apparently: deep inside the torment continues, the nightmare continues. You remain sitting on the volcano; it can empty any moment. But when real peace, real bliss, real silence, descends from the beyond — not that you bring it, but when it comes, showers on you, slowly slowly penetrates and permeates your whole being — you are transformed, you are no more the same person. The old is gone and gone forever. The new has come, and the new knows no death, the new is eternal.

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