He is dancing inside this net that can not be torn out and escaped even by the strongest man.
If he closes all the doors and kills a person and disposes the body, he may escape from the punishments of law today. But, he will be caught in some other case and be punished twice the normal punishment for that offence. Because, he has done that crime under the laws of karma.
A person may speak like a pure leader and cheat the innocent people, and he may escape from the law that day. But, one day, he will be caught red handed and his real face will be shown to the outer world.
A person may get bribes and escapes from the punishments today. But, he will definitely be caught one day and the whole world will come to know about him. If he escapes in this birth, this karma will be carried out and he will be punished severely in his next birth.
A king consulted an astrologer who is very accurate in his predictions. The king asked how long he will live further.
The astrologer after calculation told that the king: “You will die next month on 5 th July at 7 am by being bitten by a snake as you killed a brahmana by throwing a snake inside his house in your last birth.”
The king got angry. He shouted: “If your predictions become wrong, I will severe your head from your body.. I will prove this fate as wrong and take yr head on 6th July.”
The king asked the servants to arrange a bed at the top empty terace of the palace and close all the doors and windows that gives way to the terrace. He also told them that not even an ant should come to the top floor on 5th july.
On 4 th july evening itself, he went to the empty terrace and lied on the bed closing all the entries to the terrace. He felt very safe that no snake can enter the top terrace. So, he peacefully slept.
Next morning, the king was still asleep at 7 am. In the sky, a Garuda was holding a cobra with its legs. When that Garuda came just above the terrace where the king was peacefully asleep, that snake escaped from Garuda’s hold and fell down exactly on that sleping king. As that snake was very angry being held by that garuda, it strongly bit that king. The king died exactly at 7 am.
Thus, even a king could not escape from the bad karma he did in his previous birth. What about us?
So, the people should never think that they can do anything within the closed walls deceiving others. Their concrete doors can not screen the eyes of the Laws Of Karma. Because, this network has been designed by God Himself to maintain dharma in the world.
One may deceive the people; But, he can not deceive the laws of the Lord. Because, he is tied with His laws that he is unable to realise.
Karma and Dharma the two dominant forces of Hinduism.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Monday, June 25, 2012
I want to be six again...
I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult. I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of a six year old again. I want to go to McDonald's and think that it's a four star restaurant. I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make ripples with rocks. I want to think M&Ms are better than money, because you can eat them. I want to play kickball during recess and paint with watercolors in art. I want to lie under a big oak tree and run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summers' day.
I want to return to a time when life was simple. When all you knew were colors, addition tables and simple nursery rhymes, but that didn't bother you, because you didn't know what you didn't know and you didn't care. When all you knew was to be happy because you didn't know all the things that should make you worried and upset. I want to think that the world is fair. That everyone in it is honest and good. I want to believe that anything is possible.
Somewhere in my youth...I matured and I learned too much. I learned of nuclear weapons, war, prejudice, starvation and abused children. I learned of lies, unhappy marriages, suffering, illness, pain and death. I learned of a world where men left their families to go and fight for our country, and returned only to end up living on the streets...begging for their next meal. I learned of a world where children knew how to kill...and did!!
What happened to the time when we thought that everyone would live forever, because we didn't grasp the concept of death? When we thought the worst thing in the world was if someone took the jump rope from you or picked you last for kickball? I want to be oblivious to the complexity of life and be overly excited by little things once again. I want to return to the days when reading was fun and music was clean. When television was used to report the news or for family entertainment and not to promote sex, violence and deceit. I remember being naive and thinking that everyone was happy because I was. I would walk on the beach and only think of the sand between my toes and the prettiest seashell I could find. I would spend my afternoons climbing trees and riding my bike. I didn't worry about time, bills or where I was going to find the money to fix my car. I used to wonder what I was going to do or be when I grew up, not worry about what I'll do if this doesn't work out.
I want to live simple again. I don't want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness and loss of loved ones. I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, the imagination, mankind and making angels in the snow.
I want to be six again.
I want to return to a time when life was simple. When all you knew were colors, addition tables and simple nursery rhymes, but that didn't bother you, because you didn't know what you didn't know and you didn't care. When all you knew was to be happy because you didn't know all the things that should make you worried and upset. I want to think that the world is fair. That everyone in it is honest and good. I want to believe that anything is possible.
Somewhere in my youth...I matured and I learned too much. I learned of nuclear weapons, war, prejudice, starvation and abused children. I learned of lies, unhappy marriages, suffering, illness, pain and death. I learned of a world where men left their families to go and fight for our country, and returned only to end up living on the streets...begging for their next meal. I learned of a world where children knew how to kill...and did!!
What happened to the time when we thought that everyone would live forever, because we didn't grasp the concept of death? When we thought the worst thing in the world was if someone took the jump rope from you or picked you last for kickball? I want to be oblivious to the complexity of life and be overly excited by little things once again. I want to return to the days when reading was fun and music was clean. When television was used to report the news or for family entertainment and not to promote sex, violence and deceit. I remember being naive and thinking that everyone was happy because I was. I would walk on the beach and only think of the sand between my toes and the prettiest seashell I could find. I would spend my afternoons climbing trees and riding my bike. I didn't worry about time, bills or where I was going to find the money to fix my car. I used to wonder what I was going to do or be when I grew up, not worry about what I'll do if this doesn't work out.
I want to live simple again. I don't want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness and loss of loved ones. I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice, peace, dreams, the imagination, mankind and making angels in the snow.
I want to be six again.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Inspired by a Friend
He was running. But after the first several miles his head started to buzz, and he forgot what it was he was running from in the first place. He thought he was living the life that most average people only dream of, but he was slowly realizing that living there meant he had stopped dreaming altogether.
He loved her at first. He loved her for all the months they were together. And he loved her still, even though she claimed her affections were long since dead, buried in the memory keepsake box with all the drawings and love letters he’d written for her. He’d given her his soul, really. He trusted her to take care of it, but she broke it and broke it again and again every day they were apart. His chest alternated between burning with searing pain and then feeling nothing at all, numbed to everything, like a chair or an old sweater, something not human.
Where did it go wrong? he wondered. He often sat, thumbing through his memories of her like a beloved scrapbook album, one that has the edge of the pages worn since it’s been gone through so many times. Slowly, though, as he reached the end of the album, the facial expressions changed. Her beautiful smile became a frown, and his own adoring glances became possessive and desperate.
He loved her because she flitted, like a bird or a butterfly or something. Could never stay in one place too long. She was adventurous, with big dreams and big ideas, never settling for what had been handed to her by the world and never letting herself be forced into what people thought she should be. She was strong. Her eyes twinkled at the idea of new opportunity, and her laughter was like glitter thrown up into the wind. He always wondered how he was lucky enough to be the one standing close to her, letting the sparkles dance on his skin.
But there wasn’t any glitter anymore. The last remnants of sparkle were starting to flake off the skin on his arms. He was terrified that it might be gone forever. Fear. Fear of losing her. He’d lost so much, and she’d been hurt so much. He wasn’t going to let that happen again. At all costs he would protect her. At all costs he would protect the one thing left that he loved before it slipped away.
But he couldn’t protect her if she didn’t want to be near him. Stupid, he muttered to himself. He wanted forever, and she wanted a new adventure. He’d tried to tame the wild in her, to ground the lighting with himself as the rod, to love the thing that flitted without letting it flit away. Stupid, he muttered to himself.
It was all his fault. He’d stifled her. He’d tried to contain her. And she finally burst free, leaving him in shambles, the rodeo cowboy with a broken nose and black eye watching his beautiful black stallion race away with his hope at finally winning.
Winning what? At anything, really. Love. Winning at love. But you can’t win love. Ugh. He felt all jumbled up inside, like someone took all his insides, put them in blender, and made him swallow it again. He felt like throwing it all up.
He kept wondering how he’d gotten here. I mean, really it was the same scenery he’d always seen. Same dingy walls and quiet streets. But inside of himself he felt disjointed and lost among the familiar. He kept looking in the mirror, searching for some hint of identity in his eyes. But they felt hollow and dull and answerless.
He had no answers left for himself. He’d run out of ideas and excuses. He’d lost his identity because he put all of himself in her, and she’d done the same in him. She just realized it before he did and pulled the plug, claiming back what was herself. Now, it was his turn.
He tried to show her love. He tried to teach her love. But somewhere along the way he’d forgotten what love was. He was now the one who needed teaching. Oh, he had loved her, no doubt. But he now had to find what love looked like without her.
“You have persevered and have endured hardships for My name. Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken your first love. Remember the height from which you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first. If you do not repent, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place. He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says. To him who overcomes, I will give the right to eat from the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God.
He loved her at first. He loved her for all the months they were together. And he loved her still, even though she claimed her affections were long since dead, buried in the memory keepsake box with all the drawings and love letters he’d written for her. He’d given her his soul, really. He trusted her to take care of it, but she broke it and broke it again and again every day they were apart. His chest alternated between burning with searing pain and then feeling nothing at all, numbed to everything, like a chair or an old sweater, something not human.
Where did it go wrong? he wondered. He often sat, thumbing through his memories of her like a beloved scrapbook album, one that has the edge of the pages worn since it’s been gone through so many times. Slowly, though, as he reached the end of the album, the facial expressions changed. Her beautiful smile became a frown, and his own adoring glances became possessive and desperate.
He loved her because she flitted, like a bird or a butterfly or something. Could never stay in one place too long. She was adventurous, with big dreams and big ideas, never settling for what had been handed to her by the world and never letting herself be forced into what people thought she should be. She was strong. Her eyes twinkled at the idea of new opportunity, and her laughter was like glitter thrown up into the wind. He always wondered how he was lucky enough to be the one standing close to her, letting the sparkles dance on his skin.
But there wasn’t any glitter anymore. The last remnants of sparkle were starting to flake off the skin on his arms. He was terrified that it might be gone forever. Fear. Fear of losing her. He’d lost so much, and she’d been hurt so much. He wasn’t going to let that happen again. At all costs he would protect her. At all costs he would protect the one thing left that he loved before it slipped away.
But he couldn’t protect her if she didn’t want to be near him. Stupid, he muttered to himself. He wanted forever, and she wanted a new adventure. He’d tried to tame the wild in her, to ground the lighting with himself as the rod, to love the thing that flitted without letting it flit away. Stupid, he muttered to himself.
It was all his fault. He’d stifled her. He’d tried to contain her. And she finally burst free, leaving him in shambles, the rodeo cowboy with a broken nose and black eye watching his beautiful black stallion race away with his hope at finally winning.
Winning what? At anything, really. Love. Winning at love. But you can’t win love. Ugh. He felt all jumbled up inside, like someone took all his insides, put them in blender, and made him swallow it again. He felt like throwing it all up.
He kept wondering how he’d gotten here. I mean, really it was the same scenery he’d always seen. Same dingy walls and quiet streets. But inside of himself he felt disjointed and lost among the familiar. He kept looking in the mirror, searching for some hint of identity in his eyes. But they felt hollow and dull and answerless.
He had no answers left for himself. He’d run out of ideas and excuses. He’d lost his identity because he put all of himself in her, and she’d done the same in him. She just realized it before he did and pulled the plug, claiming back what was herself. Now, it was his turn.
He tried to show her love. He tried to teach her love. But somewhere along the way he’d forgotten what love was. He was now the one who needed teaching. Oh, he had loved her, no doubt. But he now had to find what love looked like without her.
“You have persevered and have endured hardships for My name. Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken your first love. Remember the height from which you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first. If you do not repent, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place. He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says. To him who overcomes, I will give the right to eat from the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Based on a True Story
I can’t do it.
I sit in the mall. I probably look like one of those crazy, reclusive types as I peep over my laptop every few seconds, watching the people traffic pass me by. Do you ever have those moments when you’re completely struck with the intricate significance of a human’s life, and yet simultaneously struck by our insignificance in it all? I can narrow in and watch one person. They have a life outside of this moment. They have a history and, presumably, a future. They have loved and they have been hurt and they have a totally different perspective on the world than I do. I wonder what that person could teach me. But then I zoom out again, and the face is lost. We are but one in the sea of humanity. I think it’s another one of those intended paradoxes of life.
The mall is full of gang wars. The cluster of teens coming out of Hot Topic, branded by their gang piercings and tattoos are in a social war with the kids across the street at Aeropostale, marked by their matching gang t-shirts. Their war is one of silence and sneers. Everyone is judged and measured. “Ignore them,” they say about the other. “Nothing good can come out of [Nazareth].”
The thought crosses my mind, “I wonder what we would look like stripped down of our adornments.” I make a face to myself, realizing that idea’s going to need a good explanation behind it. I just mean, how much of our identity is in our physical? A lot. What would happen if we were all lined up, stripped of our branded clothing, our piercings, our haircuts, our makeup, our phones, our cars, all our possessions? Who are you when all of that is gone? I have to admit that I’m not really sure. I’m not really sure. And that disturbs me.
I used to love this. The mall, I mean. I loved the atmosphere. I loved the materialism. I loved the judging. I wouldn’t have named those things as what I loved, but those are the words I ascribe in hindsight. My downfall has always been the material. As I sit here, watching the women walk by with their bags of newly purchased items, I realize I am not alone, and this anger rises within me against the world. The world that I loved. The world of fashion and marketing and beauty. As I sat at the foot court, I metaphorically spat on that world for betraying me. And then I realized that materialism is like sex. (What is up with these metaphors?) By that I mean (like I said in my Liquid Lust blog) it shouldn’t be a god to us, but it also shouldn’t be a demon. Materialism isn’t my enemy; it’s just a tool. I can’t hate it because that’s the easy way out. And that’s not truth seeking.
I don’t know how to approach the world anymore. I mean, in my head I sort of have an idea. It’s about serving people, the least of these. Loving, even when it means self-sacrifice and being obedient to the will of God, even when it means my dreams are shattered. Right now I feel like I’m standing in the midst of a broken window. Because I KNOW these things in my head, but applying them means a complete restructuring of my thoughts and my life.
Duh, right? But I’m good at the material, and I’m not so good at the serving. How do I use my talents to glorify God, then? How do these dreams and desires inside of me equate within the dreams and desires God has for my life? I just know I can’t spend my life perpetuating the cycle of materialism and physical obsession.
I can’t do it.
So now what?
I sit in the mall. I probably look like one of those crazy, reclusive types as I peep over my laptop every few seconds, watching the people traffic pass me by. Do you ever have those moments when you’re completely struck with the intricate significance of a human’s life, and yet simultaneously struck by our insignificance in it all? I can narrow in and watch one person. They have a life outside of this moment. They have a history and, presumably, a future. They have loved and they have been hurt and they have a totally different perspective on the world than I do. I wonder what that person could teach me. But then I zoom out again, and the face is lost. We are but one in the sea of humanity. I think it’s another one of those intended paradoxes of life.
The mall is full of gang wars. The cluster of teens coming out of Hot Topic, branded by their gang piercings and tattoos are in a social war with the kids across the street at Aeropostale, marked by their matching gang t-shirts. Their war is one of silence and sneers. Everyone is judged and measured. “Ignore them,” they say about the other. “Nothing good can come out of [Nazareth].”
The thought crosses my mind, “I wonder what we would look like stripped down of our adornments.” I make a face to myself, realizing that idea’s going to need a good explanation behind it. I just mean, how much of our identity is in our physical? A lot. What would happen if we were all lined up, stripped of our branded clothing, our piercings, our haircuts, our makeup, our phones, our cars, all our possessions? Who are you when all of that is gone? I have to admit that I’m not really sure. I’m not really sure. And that disturbs me.
I used to love this. The mall, I mean. I loved the atmosphere. I loved the materialism. I loved the judging. I wouldn’t have named those things as what I loved, but those are the words I ascribe in hindsight. My downfall has always been the material. As I sit here, watching the women walk by with their bags of newly purchased items, I realize I am not alone, and this anger rises within me against the world. The world that I loved. The world of fashion and marketing and beauty. As I sat at the foot court, I metaphorically spat on that world for betraying me. And then I realized that materialism is like sex. (What is up with these metaphors?) By that I mean (like I said in my Liquid Lust blog) it shouldn’t be a god to us, but it also shouldn’t be a demon. Materialism isn’t my enemy; it’s just a tool. I can’t hate it because that’s the easy way out. And that’s not truth seeking.
I don’t know how to approach the world anymore. I mean, in my head I sort of have an idea. It’s about serving people, the least of these. Loving, even when it means self-sacrifice and being obedient to the will of God, even when it means my dreams are shattered. Right now I feel like I’m standing in the midst of a broken window. Because I KNOW these things in my head, but applying them means a complete restructuring of my thoughts and my life.
Duh, right? But I’m good at the material, and I’m not so good at the serving. How do I use my talents to glorify God, then? How do these dreams and desires inside of me equate within the dreams and desires God has for my life? I just know I can’t spend my life perpetuating the cycle of materialism and physical obsession.
I can’t do it.
So now what?
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
When stories end
Like a small piece of land in the middle of an ocean
my heart’s sinking in the sea.
My arms flailing bout,
there’s not a shadow of doubt
I’m about to sink beneath.
I’m screaming in sorrow, I’m screaming in pain.
There’s no one around to hear.
All the pretty friendly fishes
turning into shark-like witches,
Feeding off my primal fear.
It’s the fear that consumes me, the fear that destroys
A fear chilling to the bone.
Colder than the icy waters
in which my heart slowly flutters –
It’s the fear of being alone.
I can hear your fake cackling echoing in your hollow soul.
Our friendship mortified.
My heart can’t grow gills
In anger it wills
that our friendship dies.
I guess it’s the same sadness, the very same fear,
that forces you to be one of them.
Selfish and conniving.
Lying and depraving.
I think its time for the end to begin.
my heart’s sinking in the sea.
My arms flailing bout,
there’s not a shadow of doubt
I’m about to sink beneath.
I’m screaming in sorrow, I’m screaming in pain.
There’s no one around to hear.
All the pretty friendly fishes
turning into shark-like witches,
Feeding off my primal fear.
It’s the fear that consumes me, the fear that destroys
A fear chilling to the bone.
Colder than the icy waters
in which my heart slowly flutters –
It’s the fear of being alone.
I can hear your fake cackling echoing in your hollow soul.
Our friendship mortified.
My heart can’t grow gills
In anger it wills
that our friendship dies.
I guess it’s the same sadness, the very same fear,
that forces you to be one of them.
Selfish and conniving.
Lying and depraving.
I think its time for the end to begin.
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