darkness

nausea.

he felt his stomach churn. a strange sour taste rising up to his throat.. burped out..
his heart was beating faster..
drops of sweat were getting heavier and falling off his forehead. the shirt fully wet, hugged his sweat-drenched back. some part of it occasionally getting unstuck and sticking back on again.
he took off the shirt... allowing the warm humid breeze to flow over him.

he sat in the darkness.

"It is appropriate that the external conditions match your state of mind. That avoids conflict within yourself. That will bring harmony." the voice in his head spoke.

the voice had grown over the years.

initially it had begun with little observations, comments. he was happy to have found a companion. a friend that was inside him. a mate that would never go away from him.

it then grew, on to judging his actions and actions of others around him. sometimes it was funny, sometimes angry, sometimes prodding him to do something, sometimes forcing him not to act.

now it had grown so much on him that he was not able to seperate himself and the voice in his head. it was more like the voice willed something and he followed it without question.

he wanted to be alone. but the voice wouldnt let him be.
anything and everything that happened or did not happen would be examined, re-examined, analysed, turned inside out, outside in, broken into peices, distorted, and then assimilated as was most convinient. based on this his emotions would be triggered and his behaviour altered.

was he trapped? was he being controlled?

was there no way to get rid of this voice?

he had stopped speaking back to it long ago hoping that it would also stop on its own. ignored it. but it could carry-on on its own, without any contribution from him. like a sapling that initially needed nurturing and care, but after a certain point would survive without need for watering or tending to.

the voice had taken root. deeply. and now he could not wish it to wither away. it did not require him anymore, it was a presence independent of him but it influenced his thoughts, actions, emotions... even his dreams were not left untouched.

the moon was rising.
the night breeze had become gentler and cooler. the curtains resisted the breeze and rose and fell forming strange shadows against the wall aided by the moonlight.

"Beautiful moon goddess. She must be so lonely."

observe.

someone had told him. or had he read it somewhere? he did not remember. but the advice had been clear.

just observe it.
do not hate it, do not love it.
it is just an extension of yourself.
it is you.
you wish it to be there. so it is there.

but he did not wish it to be there. or so he felt. it was involuntary. it just kept on and on without a break. it was arrogant. it was was so full of itself. or was it himself?
deep breath. the moon.

the master points at the moon. the foolish disciple looks at the finger.

he wished to think of himself as one of the wiser disciples, one that looked past the finger and saw the moon. but then what? why did the master want him to look at the moon..? ah it was all so confusing..

"Its not confusing. You are just not upto it."

ignoring something is giving it negative attention.
dont agree with it, nor disagree with it. just look at it.
intently.

he closed his eyes.

"Ha Ha Ha. You are just trying to avoid. That wont help at all."

he breathed in.

he breathed out.

and then it was gone.