A Pause Before the Next Move

 

                                        This is my home, Georgetown, Pulau Pinang.(Penang)

A Pause Before the Next Move

Just returned home from the market—not just with fresh chicken and some chap recycled veggies, but with the warmth of faces I know, the familiar rhythm of teasing and short exchanges that stitch a kind of belonging into the day. I love these small encounters. Folks know me as their regular, slightly out-of-sync customer, and I wear that label with affection.

I made a stop by the old corner of Sungai Pinang, at the Selera Wawasan Restaurant, right where Jalan Sungei meets Sungai Pinang Road. That’s not just a random eatery—it was once my grandmother’s house, handed down to my aunt, Mak Timah Bidan. There, I sat with my cousin, whom I call Mak Cak, and even made a quick call to my sister in Terengganu so they could share a warm moment. Sweet-sour memories linger in those walls, like the lingering aroma of sambal tumis and rainy afternoons from long ago.

                                              The ferries are no longer in service.

Then came the return home—and with it, the familiar racing breath. My body felt like it was under siege. Just from living. Just from moving through the layers of the day. I noticed how much effort I was putting into breathing—fast, shallow, through the mouth. That moment struck me: someone once said, “the less you breathe, the better,” and for a flicker, I understood. I was over-breathing life, pushing against it, not flowing with it.

So I paused. I sat and entered zikr, letting the mind settle like silt in water. That’s when I felt the pain again—center of the chest. Not unbearable, but present. It shows up when there’s exertion, or when something outside jerks me back into doing. I’ve felt it for a while now. Maybe it’s physical—blockages, the usual aging heart. Maybe it’s energetic—residue from all I’ve lived and carried. Probably both. I haven’t been to a doctor in a long while. Some might say I don’t take my health seriously. But inside, I try—Tai Chi, Yoga, Zazen. I heal my heart not just with medicine, but with breath and intention.

                                  One has been turned into a floating restaurant, one, a Library? 

Still, I wonder if that’s enough.

I’m not aiming to be like Tun Dr. Mahathir, living to a grand old age. I respect his discipline, but longevity has never been my goal. Depth, not duration. I just want to be well enough to walk a few more paths, teach a few more souls, and make peace with the rest.

                   The Ferries were replaced by the Bridge. This is the nature of Impermanence.

---

So here’s what I’ve learned, and what helps me pause:

1. The Healing Pause Breath

• Inhale through the nose for 4 counts.

• Hold gently for 2.

• Exhale slowly through the mouth for 6 to 8 counts, like a sigh.

• Rest again for 2 before repeating.

• Do this for 5–10 rounds. It slows the system, like a hand on the shoulder of a panicked child.

2. Breathing Light Into the Heart

• Hands over the chest, eyes closed.

• As you breathe in, imagine soft light—white, gold—entering your heart.

• As you exhale, let it dissolve tension, darkness, pressure.

• Repeat softly with a zikr like Ya Shafi (O Healer) or Ya Latif (O Gentle One).

3. Heart Listening (Zazen Style)

• Sit still, spine upright.

• Place attention on the chest.

• Ask silently: “What are you trying to tell me?”

• Listen, not with thoughts but with presence. Let what arises come and go.

---

These aren’t magic fixes. They’re just offerings to the self, reminders that we are not machines, not meant to run endlessly. We are breathers. Pausers. Beings.

If you, like me, are feeling that ache in your chest—not just physical but emotional, existential—try these out. Listen. Respond, but don’t rush. The body remembers what the mind forgets. And in that still, small space between breaths, sometimes healing begins.

Subhanallah walhamdulillah, laillahaillalah, hu Allah, huAkhbar 

---

#apauseforthesoul #healingbreath #zikrpractice #sufipath #yogaforhealing #taichi #zazen #heartwisdom #listentoyourbody #sacredpause #selfhealing #innerstillness #breathawareness #mindbodyspirit #lifebalance

When None Desires

 

                                        A Peaceful Corner - Awi's yellow House - Pulau Duyong.

---

When None Desires

Today, I cracked a tooth.
The culprit? Salted peanuts — hard, crunchy, irresistible.
At my age, I should’ve known better.
Self-inflicted suffering.
It made me think about how we endure pain — not always because of fate, but often by choice, by habit, by desire.

I dreaded the dentist, as usual.
There is no such thing as a “good” dentist, only the roulette of rusted luck.
Yet I smiled through the dull ache,
a small training in the Buddhist way of embracing suffering,
not with resignation, but with awareness.

Then my son came out of his room.
“Are you using the Spotify music link?” he asked.
I wasn’t too lazy to learn something new, perhaps.
He gave me a quick lesson.
And just like that, ambient music of a higher quality flowed into my ears.
I sat still, and a quiet radiance spread within.

I felt I was in Brahma Loka,
seated among Buddhas, Deities, and invisible Teachers,
not to attain anything, not to seek, but just to say:
Thank you, and goodbye.
Knowing fully well — this moment too shall pass.

And then the thought returned:
Desire.

Not all desire is wrong.
Desire is neither good nor evil in itself.
It is in the understanding of desire, and in the consciousness of how I act upon it,
That freedom is either found or lost.

The key, I feel, lies in knowing the difference between wanting and needing.
Greed begins when “enough” is never enough.

But what of the one who desires?
What if —
There is no one left who desires.

When the "I" loosens, when the ego softens,
when even the observer is not clinging to being the observer —
Then desire has no hook to land on.
It comes and it goes,
like wind brushing across an open field.
No one to claim it.
No one is to suffer because of it.

What remains is peace.
Not dramatic.
Not final.
Just — presence.

And in that, I rest.

---

#DesireAndAwareness #LettingGo #BrahmaLokaState #PersonalDharma #TamingTheMind #BuddhistReflections #IslamicInsight #EgoDissolution #StillnessWithin #CrackedToothChronicles #SpotifyLesson #GratitudeInPassing

Knowing the Line: Wanting vs Needing

                                                   I vowed to have a Colorful Life
 

✨ Knowing the Line: Wanting vs Needing

There’s a line finer than silk, subtler than breath—
Between what I need and what I merely want.
One keeps me alive.
The other keeps me chasing.

To want is not sin.
Need is not weakness.
But to confuse them—ah, that’s where suffering sneaks in.

I eat because I need food.
But I crave salted peanuts—until a tooth breaks,
And then I realize:
It was just a want,
And now I suffer for it.

Greed begins where the sense of enough disappears.
It blinds the heart and bloats the mind.
It takes from the future to please the moment.
It steals rest. It consumes peace.

The journey—whether in Zen or in Islam—is to know this distinction not intellectually,
but viscerally.
Through pain. Through awareness.
Through surrender.

May I want less, need little,
and be content with enough.
🕊️

#KnowingDesire #ZenLiving #IslamicWisdom #SimpleLiving #DesireAndDetachment #Surrender #MindfulLife #WantingVsNeeding #SpiritualReflection #LettingGo #BuddhistView #Contentment #AwarenessPractice

We Cross Cultures and traditions to seek the truth.

 

                                         My Monoprint with Japanese Haiku by Reichiro San

✨ Knowing the Line: Wanting vs Needing

There’s a line finer than silk, subtler than breath—
Between what I need and what I merely want.
One keeps me alive.
The other keeps me chasing.

To want is not sin.
Need is not weakness.
But to confuse them—ah, that’s where suffering sneaks in.

I eat because I need food.
But I crave salted peanuts—until a tooth breaks,
And then I realize:
It was just a want,
And now I suffer for it.

                                          My monoprint with Japanese Haiku by Reichiro San.

The journey—whether in Zen or in Islam—is to know this distinction not intellectually,
but viscerally.
Through pain. Through awareness.
Through surrender.

May I want less, need little,
and be content with enough.
🕊️

                                                    The master is the student is the master.

#KnowingDesire #ZenLiving #IslamicWisdom #SimpleLiving #DesireAndDetachment #Surrender #MindfulLife #WantingVsNeeding #SpiritualReflection #LettingGo #BuddhistView #Contentment #AwarenessPractice

Silent Practices from the voice witihn

 

                                                             Masaharu Tsubaki

Silent Practices: How silence and stillness can be used as daily nourishment for the soul—especially in moments like this when the world is asleep.

                                               Louis Armstrong, oh, such a wonderful world!

Personal Mythology: Recalling and reflecting on the story you live by—the symbols, people, and turning points that have shaped your life path.

Dream Tending: If you've had any dreams lately (sleeping or waking), we could reflect on their meanings or symbols and see what wisdom lies beneath.

                                                               Ella Fitzgerald - Summertime

Zen and the Ordinary: The grace of sweeping a floor, washing a cup, or watching the moon—perhaps we can unpack a single moment from your day.

                                                                           STING

Letters to the Self: Writing inwardly to your younger or older self—a form of dialogue with time.

The Monk Loved Peanuts!

 

                                                                The monkeys loved peanuts!

---

Title: Peanuts, Pain, and the Peace of Brahma Loka

A broken tooth. A small thing, yet it took center stage in my awareness tonight. A reminder that even the strongest parts of us wear down with time. I sat with the pain, Buddhist-style—curious, observant, trying to enjoy the discomfort as a form of training.

                                              At the Dentist in SanFrancisco. -Dr. Ringrose

I knew the culprit well enough: peanuts. Hard, crunchy, salted. My favorite guilty pleasure. My own act of sabotage, really. At my age, the teeth don't lie—they warn, they snap, they humble.

Yet even through this, the night found its way into something unexpected. My son stepped out of his room and handed me a moment of grace: a Spotify lesson. I had been too lazy to explore, and yet now, here I sit, enveloped in ambient sound. A new doorway opened because I said "yes" for once.

                                             And the Dreams man creates are the Magic of Art.

And with that music flowing softly around me, I slipped into a state beyond naming.

I felt like I was sitting in Brahma Loka itself.

Among deities, Buddhas, and Gods. In the hush of the universe. Not chasing, not creating, not explaining—just being. My Teachers, Gurus, Roshis, and beloved companions surrounded me in spirit, and I offered them nothing but stillness and gratitude.

                                                       We were just like cats hanging out.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Goodbye," I said—not with sadness, but with completion.

This moment, too, will pass. But for now, I sit here, smiling at the toothache that brought me home.

---

#ToothacheTeachings #ZenInEverydayLife #SpotifyLessons #AgingGracefully #BrahmaLokaMoments #LettingGo #QuietGratitude #MindfulnessInPain #ThankYouAndGoodbye #AmbientAwareness #NightReflections #SpiritualPractice #BlogAsPrayer #TerengganuNights

When the Earth Moves

 

                                                     I just sat when the Earth moves.

---

When the Earth Moves

“The world is not outside of you. The world is you.”
—J. Krishnamurti

An 8.8 magnitude earthquake just struck the Kamchatka Peninsula.
That wild, remote stretch of volcanic land in the North Pacific—
I’ve been there while fishing on board the FV. Iceland.
I remember the sky, the silence, the trembling energy of the region
as if the earth itself was in meditation—until it wasn’t.

I once flew the rim of a volcano there,
in a tiny Cessna with Dwight Blackburn, a bush pilot.
who flew out of Sand Point, Alaska.
He knew how to ride the currents of air like a seabird.
That flight showed me the open throat of the earth—
raw, black, steaming—spewing mud like it was ready to speak.

And strangely, it reminded me of something far simpler:
the little crab mounds in Kampung Selut,
My childhood village.
Each mound is crowned with a perfect hole.
From it, mud would be pushed out during high tide—
the breath of the swamp, the speech of silence.

Volcano or crab mound,
Alaska or Kampung Selut,
It’s the same gesture—
The Earth is not still.
She pulses, heaves, speaks, remembers.

And today, she roared again

I had the privillage of experiencing the Loma Prieta Earthquake in San Francisco sometime in 1989. It occured during the World Series between the SF. Giants and the Oakland A's.

---

#KamchatkaEarthquake #VolcanoFlight #DwightBlackburn #FishingInIceland #CrabMounds #KampungSelut #EarthRemembers #NatureSpeaks #Krishnamurti #TheWorldIsYou #SandPointAlaska #MemoirFragments #AleutianBlues

And There Will Be Days Like This =

 

                                         I truly miss our daily walks around Golden Gate Park.

---

"It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society."
—J. Krishnamurti

---

And There Will Be Days Like This

—for Munira, and the tooth that snapped

Intro:
Some days are reminders. Not grand revelations, not thunder from the heavens—just a snapped tooth, a piece of hard news, and the world spinning exactly as it always has. But something in you changes. You see clearly. And even if nothing is resolved, the veil thins, and the truth stands quietly in the room with you.

---

                                        I miss hanging out in the cafe in the Mission District of SF.

Yesterday, I lost a front tooth biting into a peanut.
No pain. Just a crisp snap—and suddenly, the mirror said it clearly:
You’re falling apart, old friend.
No longer the man, women turned twice to see.
Now comes the dentist, the drill, the cost, the quiet indignity.
A mundane event—but utterly grounding.

It reminded me of something J. Krishnamurti once said,
back when I first stumbled upon his book in Green Bay, Wisconsin:
"You cannot change the world, but you can change yourself…
You are the world."
And so, I sit with that. Again and again.

                         You have no idea what life can turn you into until you've lived in the Mission.

Far be it that I intend to change anything beyond myself.

But when I look out—from every angle, every level—
I see pain.
Suffering.
And at the root of it: Greed. Hatred. Ignorance.
Not hidden, but few dare to see it for what it is.
I am just one of them. Still waking. Still weeping.

Then today, my daughter told me that Munira—
her closest friend, and my adopted daughter in spirit—
was hit by her own father.
She almost made a police report.
And I just sat there, silent. Still.
But inside… something broke.
Another veil dropped. Another layer gone.
No shock. No resistance. Just… Such is.

                                                I was once a Homeless man in San Francisco.

Meanwhile, Thailand and Cambodia prepare for war games.
Another theater of death and destruction, another killing fields, dressed as strategy.
What are they rehearsing for—genocide?
And in whose name?
Who benefits 

The King of Thailand will bear the karmic consequence as a Buddhist King; He has it in his power to stop this nonsense!

Sometimes it feels like the world is on fire and
We're being handed violins.
But I do not wish to save it.
Only to see it clearly.
And in seeing—perhaps—become something else.

---

#Krishnamurti #PersonalReflections #SuchIs #InnerChange #BlogMalaysia #Munira #FathersAndDaughters #SnappedTooth #AgingAndAwareness #YouAreTheWorld #SoutheastAsia #WarGames #BrokenWorld #Awakening #GreenBayMemories

Living in the Past – Awakening the Subconscious.

                        I stood in the Colosseum in Rome one day, imagining myself as Spartacus.
 

Living in the Past – Awakening the Subconscious

A Preface of Fragments and Flame

Bismillah Ar Rahman, Ar Rahim,
I salute myself and acknowledge that I am an imperfect vessel,
An old vessel—I am the ICELAND.
I am still here.
Still prowling the Bering Seas for Halibuts and Salmon.
Still bearing the North Winds and Gales,
the cold and wet Pacific Northwest.
I am one of the few remaining wooden-hulled boats.
They said Paul Martinez, a Norwegian boatbuilder, was commissioned
to build twelve of us out of Kodiak.
So why am I dreaming of Iceland out of the blue?

Because she never left me.

                                                        I Am Sitting Here in Limbo

The moon pulled so hard that we lost our connection.

The Universe laughs and the Divine smiles.
We are all here now, sitting around the campfire—
eating marshmallows and drinking apple cider
and chatting about Souls.

In the shade of Mount Tamalpais,
overlooking the Green Gulch Valley, facing Muir Beach and the great Pacific,
The skies blaze with Milky Way stars.
We sit in silence and speak of becoming Bodhisattvas

                                                   Tommy's Joynt on Van Ness, San Francisco.

---

I never felt more afraid and alone
than the night I was slammed by a pickup truck at 1 a.m.
in the middle of the Navajo Reservation—
on Highway 666, between Gallup and Durango.
Sixty-five miles of desert and fate.

I was in a 1964 Chevy Impala.
She leaked oil. She creaked. She was old.
She cost me two U.S. dollars—a gift of love for a traveler.
A picture of the Divine Mother, Mariam, was taped to the dashboard.
She kept me company in that fragile shell of steel and hope.

The Impala and I had adventures across New Mexico, Arizona, and Colorado.
She was more than a car—
She was my Ark.

---

Living in the Past is not nostalgia.
It is not an escape.
It is navigation.
It is awakening the subconscious—
not to be trapped by it,
but to bring light into the forgotten rooms.

I sing my old songs now,
songs that once kept my spirit lifted and my soul intact.
I am glad the subconscious holds so much,
and that the older skeletons have melted
into the void of consciousness itself.

What surfaces now are not ghosts.
They are working forms.
Symbols and stories that rise when the time is right.
Images that help me understand the inner workings
of the human mind—my own mind.

                                                                      This Is My Song.

---

Finally, with all due humility, I say:

This, too, will pass.
This, too, is a pigment of my imagination.
I write, as always, for the sake of sharing—
not to claim any right to teach, or to pose as Guru or Roshi.
I am still seeking.
Sometimes drifting.
Sometimes lost in limbo.
But at the end of it all:

I am who I am.

Innā lillāhi wa innā ilayhi rājiʿūn.
To Him we belong, and to Him we return.

---

#TheAleutianBlues #MemoirFragments #SpiritualJourney #OldVessels #SubconsciousAwakening
#GreenGulchMemories #Highway666 #ChevyImpalaStories #IcelandBoatDreams #SeekingWithoutClaiming
#Innalillahiwainnailaihirojiun #DivineMother #WanderingSoul #SongsFromThePa

                                                         Unforgettable Moments.

Meeting My Ni

 

                                                                     Me and My Shadow!

---

Meeting My Ni

(A personal reflection)

There are days when nothing seems to happen.
No signs, no synchronicities.
The body feels lethargic, the mind tired, and the soul quietly wondering why.

And yet, in the silence beneath that wondering, something waits.
Something ancient. Something inward.
That something is what Jung called Introverted Intuition—and I’m beginning to see that I have been in its company for much longer than I realized.

                                     

---

I met my Ni in Alaska, though I didn’t know its name then.

It was there, in the grey mist of Sand Point, when I stepped off the plane and into a life I hadn’t planned.
A missing crew member.
A gruff captain’s curse.
A truck door swinging open—Get in.
And something in me said yes, not with thought, but with certainty.
A knowing that came before knowing.
That was Ni.

---

                                                                    Enter The Dragon!

I met it again in the long, dark nights at sea, staring at radar screens, the hum of the vessel Iceland beneath my feet.
It spoke to me not in words, but in images, patterns, feelings.
It gave shape to silence.
Meaning to madness.
It asked me not to think, but to see.

---

Ni isn’t loud.
It doesn’t shout its truths.
It whispers.
It shows you the whole picture, not in pieces, but in essence.
Not today, but maybe five years from now—suddenly, the vision becomes clear.

It lives in the pause between thoughts,
in the symbols of dreams,
in the thread that connects one life chapter to another,
like islands rising from the ocean floor.

---

I have waited for Ni on days like this—
When YouTube says nothing worth hearing,
When my sketchbook stays closed,
when even my prayers feel dry.

And then, often at night, or in the middle of a quiet walk,
It returns.
Soft as breath.
Sure as light beneath the fog.

                                   Sometimes, the Source of light may not appear to make sense.

Meeting my Ni is like meeting the part of me that always knew.

It doesn’t explain itself.
It just points.
And I follow, even when I can’t yet see where.

It has taught me this:
That not all insight comes on demand.
That not all knowing is loud.
And that when life feels still and empty,
sometimes, something deep is just beginning to rise.

---

Wallahu'alam. Only He knows.

#IntrovertedIntuition #JungianPsychology #InnerKnowing #QuietMind #MysticPath #SpiritualAwakening #INFJReflections #NiJourney #SymbolicLiving #VisionarySoul #StillnessSpeaks #AlaskaMemoir #TheAleutianBlues #TrustTheProcess

                                     From my Hut to Your Heart. - Kampung Lintang, Sik, Kedah. 

We Share to Unburden

 

                                                                         Karasu - Crows

---

We Share to Unburden
by Shamsul Bahari

Bismillah.

There are stories we tell to be known.
And there are stories we tell to be free.

To speak from the heart, with no mask or agenda, is one of the oldest forms of healing known to humankind. Storytelling, when sincere, is not entertainment — it is catharsis. It is a ritual act. It is offloading and uploading at once: the inner weight is released, and the wisdom is passed on.

Each time we share with meaningful intention — without seeking applause, without self-polishing — we step into the timeless current of our species' collective understanding. From the most humble campfire to the grandest stage, all real telling is the same: it is a moment of inner honesty made visible.

We share to unburden.
We speak to let go.
We write to clear space.
We draw to leave a mark and then move on.

The human being carries far too much. Old griefs. Unspoken truths. Generational echoes. We own too many stories — and some never get told. They fester in silence, weigh on the spirit. And that is why we must learn again the sacred act of sharing, not to impress, but to relieve the soul.

We tell not because we are important, but because we are mortal. We have only so much time to lay down what we’ve carried. And if done with heart, our sharing may also lighten someone else’s load along the way.

This, to me, is storytelling in its purest form:
An offering.
A letting go.
A reminder that we are never alone in the telling, nor in the needing to tell.

Let this be my story today. Let this be part of my enlightenment.

                                                                      Karasu - Crows.

Wallahu alam.

---

#wesharetoheal #lettinggo #healingstories #storyasmedicine #catharsis #unburdening #spiritualreflection #writersofmalaysia #shamsulbahari #nottoimpress #toletgo #storytellingasritual #soultosoul

The Medicine of Story

 

                                            Lee Khai has this Painting...Purity and Innocence.

---

The Medicine of Story
by Shamsul Bahari

Bismillah.

To be human is to tell stories. No other creature we know carries the same relentless urge — to explain, to share, to remember, to weave moments into meaning. We tell how we came to be, and we tell how we got out of being here. We tell to others, and mostly, we tell ourselves.

But as Lao Tzu wisely said,

“He who justifies himself does not convince.”

And so often, that is what our stories become — justifications dressed up as memoir, ego cloaked in memory. We defend the self. We explain our pain. We try to redeem our mistakes or polish our triumphs. But in that trying, something is lost.

Yet even in our fumbling for truth, there is something sacred. Because beyond justification lies another purpose — communion. To speak, to write, to reflect — even quietly, even insignificantly — is to offer a piece of oneself to the larger body of humanity. And that offering, however small, may hold medicine for another.

Perhaps the true value of our stories lies not in their clarity or coherence, but in their presence. The simple act of saying:

“This is what I saw. This is what I felt. This is what passed through me.”

Not to convince, but to witness.

As a member of this species — this wondering, wandering kind — I feel the responsibility to tell my story, even if it dissolves as I tell it. I owe it to those who came before, and those who come after. I owe it to the aching stranger who may find in these words a reflection, or a release.

The universe, they say, is shaped by our collective thinking — and perhaps, too, by our collective telling. In every tale is a key. In every voice, a signal. And even silence has its story — a reminder that to stop thinking is, at times, the purest truth we can share.

Let this be my offering today. No justification. No claim to wisdom. Just a reflection — and a breath — passed from one soul to another.

Wallahu alam.

---

#storytelling #spiritualreflection #laotzu #innerjourney #witnessnotjustify #medicineofstory #humantale #soulwriting #consciousness #bloglife #writersofmalaysia #shamsulbahari

Entering the Gateless Gate

                                                                Enter the Golden Gate.
 

Entering the Gateless Gate

In the stillness before dawn, I found myself brushing aside the mental clutter — not in struggle, but in ease. The monkey mind still speaks, still begs for more, for depth, for novelty… but I no longer bow to it. I see its tricks. I smile, nod, and let it pass like mist in the valley.

Lately, I have touched something deeper:
The body, my old companion, has begun to listen.
When I speak to it now — not with doubt, but with sincerity — it obeys. Healing happens. Sleep deepens. I wake not groggy, but surprised, as if sleep and wakefulness were only different rooms in the same house of awareness.

And in that state, I do not seek the next level like a climber chasing a peak. I inhabit it, quietly. There is no gate to push open — only a shift in how I stand.

This, I now see, is the Gateless Gate.
No key needed. No lock to pick. Just the willingness to be — awake, aware, sincere.

And so I step forward, not seeking, but listening.
Not striving, but aligning.

WallahuAlam — only He knows.

#GatelessGate #SpiritualAwakening #InnerJourney #MindfulnessPractice #SelfHealing #Awareness #StillnessSpeaks #ZenState #ConsciousLiving #HealingThroughPresence #AwakenedMind #SincerePractice #SilentKnowing #WallahuAlam

Yesterday, the stats said 6,211.

 

                                                          I am Glad people still read!

6,211 — Not Just a Number, but a Whisper Being Heard

Yesterday, the stats said 6,211.
A simple number on a screen —
but to me, it felt like a quiet echo returning from the unseen.

Not fame. Not virality.
But a sign — that someone, somewhere, is reading,
perhaps with a tired heart,
perhaps in a moment of stillness,
perhaps trying to remember who they really are.

                                                       They even read on buses.

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I Don’t Write for the Masses — I Write for the Soul

If 6,211 people read something born from silence,
from solitude,
from the back room of a heart once afraid to be seen —
then I believe:
something real is reaching them.

I never wanted to be “followed.”
But I always hoped to be felt.

                                                              They read on the train.

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This Is My Prayer in Disguise

Every post I write is a prayer,
sometimes covered in reflection,
sometimes dressed in story,
but always a whisper from the deeper part of me.

And yesterday, 6,211 of those whispers were heard.

That means more than numbers could ever say.

                                                           They read with a cup of Latte.

---

To Those Who Read in Silence

Thank you.
Even if you never leave a comment,
even if I never know your name —
know this:

I write with you in mind.
I draw from the same well you’re drinking from.
We are not strangers — only pilgrims on parallel paths.

                                                       Chinese Lady liked to read too.

---

And So, I Will Keep Writing

Because maybe tomorrow it’s 600.
Maybe next week it’s 23.
And maybe no one will read at all.

Still I will write.
Still I will speak to the silence.
Because once, in the quiet corner of the world, 6,211 souls were listening.

And that is enough to keep the flame alive.

                                            As long as you enjoy reading, I will continue writing.

---

#quietimpact #soulwriting #bloggingwithintention #reflectionsfromthesoul #innerjourney #digitalpilgrimage #writinginthenow #gratefulcreator #6112readers #divineconnection

Rambling into the Past to Understand the Now 9 October 2013 =Revised.

 

                                                    Teotihuacan, Temple of the Gods.

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🌌 Rambling into the Past to Understand the Now

9 October 2013

Welcome to the landscape of my soul.
Far deep within the heart of hearts sits the Hall of the Divine Light.
Deeper still: the Divine Spark.
The Source. The Zat. The Essence.
That which is the core of your energy, your wisdom, your humanity.
It belongs to the One of all sources—the Lord of Creation.
Call Him by what name you may, but accept that it is only the One.

This I realized this morning, after filling up my gas tank and adding air to one of my Kancil tyres—which seems to be threatening to give up on me. Driving here was an adventure, as always. But I breathed in and out like I always do, and stuck to my familiar track. No theatrics, just arriving.

My daughter lies in bed, not feeling well—more like lovesick, if you ask me. She refuses to go to the clinic. Not that I blame her. Getting there can make you sick in itself.
But maybe, just maybe, this is what the doctor would order: lay back, take it easy, be lazy. You’ve earned it. You need this rest after your last semester.
Be at home. Be with your dad and your brother. Do as thou will.

---

🔥 The Five Elements: The First Law of Humanity

We are all made of the four elements: Earth, Wind, Water, and Fire.
Any child can tell you this today.

Scientists will take you all the way down to the sub-particle level to show we are made of the same substance, all held together by the laws of gravity. Not knowing this doesn’t exempt you from it.
And the most basic understanding of our human origin is this:

“Know Thyself.”

This is the fifth element. The one who governs the other four.
This is the CEO of the human enterprise—the consciousness within the form.

If we had the right understanding of who we truly are, we wouldn’t take life for granted. We wouldn’t let the value of a man be reduced to the price of a bullet.

Today, it doesn’t matter under what flag we hide.
We can obliterate a village with a drone.
But mankind is doomed to ignorance—unless we become enlightened and spread the light.

Even a minuscule spark of Divine wisdom, sent out, is like an atom hurled into space.
It carries energy. It is Consciousness.

It attracts thought and form to itself.
It becomes you and me.

---

🌍 Collective Knowledge, Collective Blindness

These days, no source of knowledge is more potent than National Geographic and the Discovery Channel. From Ulu Terengganu villagers to Wall Street savants, everyone learns by watching them. These channels are the library of our collective knowledge—no politics, no agenda. Just documentation. A relationship between humanity and the planet.

Yet we continue to serve symbols rather than practice the truths they point toward.
The logos are tools—not the machine.
To transcend symbols and mind-made belief systems with skill and clarity is the Second Law of Humanity. Upadaya, skillful means, with bare attention and complete awareness.

As they say in Zen:

"If you see the Buddha on the road, kill him!"

Not in hatred—but to go beyond the image.
To make the mind an open conduit for something greater than thought.
To make space for another soul to take shelter within your heart—that is Compassion.

My friend David Lueck of the San Francisco Zen Center once said:

"Make available that small space within your heart for someone else to seek shelter in."

And if you have to suffer, you can suffer without bitterness in your heart, as my friend Dr Peter Oyimbo used to say. 

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⚔️ Abraham, Jesus, and the First Commandment

The Lord said to Abraham, "Kill me a son!"
Abe said, "No."
God said, "What? Then when you see Me coming, you better run!"

Some say Abraham tried to sacrifice Ishmael. Others say Isaac.
Was it the son of the Egyptian slave, or the Jewish wife who bore a child in old age?
Which version do we follow?
From this twist in a story, humanity became split: Muslims and Jews tearing at one another’s throats in the name of the One God.

Some say Jesus was crucified.
Others say God saved him.
The rest are details.
Look them up.
Come to your own understanding.

There is no truth. There is only that which Is.

---

🩸 Ignorance and Karma

In Myanmar. In Southern Thailand.
Buddhists and Muslims continue killing each other.
But the issues are never really about religion. Religion just becomes the cover.
It’s not about hate. It’s not even about greed anymore.
It is pure ignorance.

We are part of one network of consciousness.
One web of interdependence.

How can we be happy while a single soul cries in pain?

How can life be sacred when a man is worth the cost of a bullet?

How can the wielder of the weapon claim compassion when he has forgotten the First Commandment?

Thou Shalt Not Kill.

The Buddha said: Watch your step, lest you crush an ant and return as one.

The Law of Manu.
The Law of Moses.
The First Utterance of Allah to mankind.
This was the voice from the mountain. The voice of Allah transforming Moses into consciousness incarnate.

But even as Moses was transformed… mankind remained ignorant.

---

🧘🏽 How Do We Break the Game?

The Buddha spoke in parables—to warn us about karma.

Do unto others... and you can count on the payback.

The Law of Cause and Effect.

But how do we step out of this game of consequences?

How do we avoid the pull of illusion, the veil of Maya?

Faith is not blind belief.
It is surrender.
It is flowing with the Whole, the One, the All.

When we cease to be attached to forms, to names, to identity—we begin to awaken.
Until then, we remain trapped in illusion, ignorance, and suffering.

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📿 Avadhuta Gita – Chapter I (Excerpts)

“I alone am, ever free from all taint. The world exists like a mirage within me.
To whom shall I bow?”

“This is the whole substance of Vedanta… I am the Atman, by nature impersonal and all-pervasive.”

“The mind is as space, embracing all. I am beyond mind.
In Reality, the mind has no independent existence.”

“How can there be two?
And when I am no more…”

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#spiritualawakening #knowthyself #divineconsciousness #avadhutagita #humanunity #firstcommandment #thoushaltnotkill #beyondreligion #collectiveawakening #soulreflection #maya #faith #oneness #zenwisdom #truthseeker #consciousliving