somewhere outside there is a world

the slate wall of fog covers every window, the light filtered and diffuse. deep meditation on supermind and supramental forces fill the silence. All is the early morning before a busy day. the doctor and the child prepare breakfast and talk as multiple murders are graphically recounted on the morning news from multiple stations. i think of india and its a closed door to me.the world there is not mine, not the life ive known or where i would choose to be. the life there though soaked in spiritual awareness is as foreign as becoming another species and forgetting i am a human. and that is the trick, the unknowing of all these things, the letting fall away your identification with such things that are as dear as arms and legs. i know to well all the thoughts and beliefs i carry unknowingly as they rule me, in retrospect or in the third person i am aware but as i live and breathe here all are as close as skin and blood. what life this that i cannot let go of everything,like a bad hand of blackjack with everything lost and let go of the losings, walk away empty and feel nothing. i used to think we were given life and love and wonderful magic, but these are the prison walls as clearly as the pain and suffering, but harder to separate from. deeper they live in me and tighter they hold.i am my own fantasy and i have fallen in terrible greed with the feelings and thoughts of being this. its not that i dont see i just cant stop when it seems like i should. how is love different from this identification, does it still exist when i stop believing in it? is it without me still self existent? that will answer one paradigm before moving to the next where questions become the riddles for understanding what cant be answered.