Life and the circle—here lies the geometry of living! There are triangles too, but I won't venture there; that's not life's geometry!
I was wondering why life's cycle is always circular in form. The matter eluded my understanding. Such things aren't really meant to be pondered; they're constants. In life's circle too, I see many divisions—some people exist on the circumference, some in the ellipse, some remain outside the circle all their lives!
No, I'm not showing bias. Those outside our circle are somewhere at the center of someone else's. Everyone's story runs much the same.
Then there are people who, while outside the circle, remain connected at particular points.
Some dwell within the circle's circumference, yet their movement stays at some distance from the center…
Some approach the center, but that final distance—no matter how they desire it—they can never quite traverse.
Those who feel distance even from very close—they are the most helpless in the world! It may be due to the density of relationship with the person. The balance holds, yes, but an opaque density always perceives a boundary; I won't call it 'depth' here, that's something else!
Then there are certain people…and by 'certain' I mean so few in number, never crossing into double digits, perhaps—these people pass through each phase and arrive at the very center. This journey is long, it carries time, the partnership of moments, so many words. What exhausting weariness in traversing the path, yet there is comfort and waiting too, there is sharing…and so much more!
Sometimes, even those dwelling at the center drift away from it after a time.
The curious thing is, one who's at the center needs very little reason to be displaced from it!
Beyond the double digits now, into the single numbers—this dwelling lasts a lifetime!
Most of the time, wrong people circle around the circle.
People are not pure—nor is it possible; yet if people wish, they can be transparent beings.
People are complex, time is complex—and the kinship between these two is remarkable.
Both people and time change rapidly! Only the difference lies in this: people are restless, prone to feeling; time is still, hard, devoid of feeling…how strange!
Sometimes I think: if only people could become 'time'…
All people are defeated—some by themselves, some by a particular person, some by time, some by circumstance, some by those born of them, some by many, and by fate itself.
Whether life lies in the depths of understanding or understanding in the depths of life.
Yet still, so many unspoken utterances remain!
# The Depths of Consciousness In the depths of consciousness lies a truth that escapes the net of words. We move through life gathering sensations, memories, impressions—each one a thread we weave into the tapestry of what we call the self. Yet the deeper we wade into this darkness, the more we realize how little we truly know of our own being. There is a moment, fleeting and precious, when the chatter of the mind falls silent. In that silence, something stirs—not thought, but the ground from which thought springs. The ancients called this the witnessing consciousness, that which observes without judgment, sees without attachment. Modern psychology has given it new names, dissected it, measured it, yet somehow in all our explaining, we have lost touch with its essential mystery. Consider how we remember. A scent returns us to childhood; a melody unlocks a door we didn't know existed. Memory is not a faithful record but a living thing, constantly reshaping itself, colored by what we have become. The past exists not as it was, but as we imagine it now. And in this very act of reimagining, we create ourselves anew each moment. The ego, that construct we call identity, is perhaps the greatest fiction we have ever believed. We cling to it as if it were solid, as if our name and history and preferences formed some unchanging core. But watch closely: the person who was you at seven is gone entirely. At seventeen, different still. Even the you of yesterday has dissolved into a ghost. What remains? Only this present moment, this breath, this inexplicable aliveness. There is a fear that haunts us—the fear of dissolving, of losing grip on the self. This fear drives much of what we do: we accumulate possessions, achievements, relationships, as if these external things could anchor us to being. Yet the deepest peace comes only when we allow ourselves to dissolve, to stop clutching, to surrender to the current of existence itself. The world beyond our skin is not separate from the world within. Consciousness does not end at the boundary of flesh. We are woven into the texture of everything—the air that fills our lungs has been part of countless beings; the atoms in our bones have journeyed through stars. To know oneself deeply is to know that there is no final boundary between inside and outside, between self and other. This is the paradox at the heart of existence: the more we try to understand consciousness through the tools of analysis and reason, the more it eludes us. Yet in moments of pure presence—in love, in art, in nature, in meditation—we touch it directly, beyond all explanation. We *become* the knowing itself. The journey inward, then, is not a journey to discover something hidden and private. It is a dissolution of the very walls that make us think we are private at all. It is a return to the undivided wholeness from which thought and separation arose. And in that return, we find not a diminishment but a strange and luminous expansion—a consciousness vast enough to hold all things, and intimate enough to be our truest self.
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