The Flock of I …
By Tarun & Celia Cherian


Painting: The Cosmic Man by Tarun Cherian.

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Marooned in The Island of I. We humans do it all the time, someone comes into your room and life, and you notice them. You see their lives briefly intertwine yours, seen the sanctity, the aliveness of each, perhaps appreciated how their point-of-view is different from yours. Then they walk out and they vanish.

You have at times, no doubt realised that it is the same with others. You walk out of their lives and Zish you are gone. You perhaps follow their disappearing heads and see yourself being turned off, ceasing to exist, as concerns wipe you off the blackboard of the mind…

And perhaps you have asked what if, and followed a friend, mentally or like a spy, but it was always you centred in you following them… presuming they are like you…

You have maybe gone one step further and followed a child at school, while standing at the sink with a pile of gluggy dishes. You have watched, worried, but have you actually walked his steps while suds cover your hands?

The Flock of I. I barely notice it at first, one moment my feet were solidly on the ground, then it seems natural to float, lift off, I enjoy the weightlessness, then my mind bursts into a million bubbles… and my mind, {how call it my mind?} tumbles in a furious rush… spreading impossibly out in a thousand tendrils…

I am each spark dancing. I am each tendril. I am each luminous thread. I am in a million places and here. No I am a million I’s in a million heres, one which is Tarun.

It is dizzying, following each luminous strand from within. Sometimes with desperate intimate detail. A woman’s up thrust breast, a slow released fart, a grumbling stomach, an aching heart.

As this happens… perspective shifts… a roar fills… a song with a billion voices surging, a song with a million heart’s abeating… A full giddy flock of flickers seen against a giant canvas. It is dizzy, glorious, impossible, uplifting…

Imagine someone who spent his whole life in solitary imprisonment cast into the Indian Bazaar, it is glorious and really impossible…

Exploring The Many Grades of Interconnectedness. Now this has thrown us into the deep end… and so I take you back to you… and lets do this slowly. And with great control explore the many grades of connectivity.

Looking Through Someone Else's Eyes. In one I feel the experience of 3 lives on my back, then in the distance of awareness a mass of the experience of 12 other people. As I focus on one, I feel it with great intimacy. But for me to say I see… I feel… I listen… is not accurate, for I no longer feel Malini’s back. It is not Tarun experiencing Malini’s back. But Awareness feeling Malini’s existence, transferring it to Tarun’s muscles and then to Tarun’s ego. As my awareness bleeds back to her own she permits herself gestures she rarely can. Sitting in a chair in front of a TV {I am at a computer} she arches her back ostensibly a cat like yoga move, but in actuality because dimly she senses the unfamiliar sensation of my body, and as she does so guiltily looks around, for she lives in a joint family home.

Living A Small Group of Lives. But as the numbers rise things change, it is no longer one life lived, Tarun’s or Malini’s. For my being starts attempting to grasp the many branches. In the easiest way my consciousness is at the centre, the others are like spokes from my hub. I can experience 3 in a row. Two other life activities flanking me. But there is a certain necessity of similarity, so while I am typing, another is chopping veggies, and yet another is scratching his stomach.

However the me at the centre model can shift to me at the side and another life’s living flooding through my body, and mine and other 3 at the outskirts. Since the one that now takes centrestage is a woman, there are some sensation issues… I feel the tightness of a red blouse, and then the chest of that woman, Malini reacts as I stretch, she will never throw her arms back as I have, and so her muscles shift ever so slightly, she relaxes, yet gets a slight catch on the left side of her back. Meanwhile a child dancing and squatting in a field, scratches her arm and my hand follows suit. She draws a brown line in the mud.

We are all reacting to each other, but only I am deeply aware of this, Malini guiltily gives into a less rigid way of energy feeling, she feels it like a daydream with an actor wrapping his arms around her from behind. The child sensing this begins to shake off the sensual interaction with a vigorous run around a courtyard, ostensibly around an animal.

Looking Through A Dozen Lives. But as we increase the numbers in the circle of being, things change. My awareness drifts like a silk dupatta caught in different trees. But as we push this. And follow 12 intimately lived lives simultaneously in a collage of great correspondence, Tarun at the computer, someone legs crossed in bed, another wet with sex at a balcony, another sweaty, yet another fanning herself… the time zones are off it is midnight here, there it is twilight… All independent, yet all connected strangely, I feel on my back someone receiving a massage, another shoved in a crowd, a third sinks into a sofa, another stretches from bending, a woman twisting her torso, a man reaching to a higher shelf…

As the numbers increase perhaps 30-40, Tarun is but one of the many sparks floating in a field of awareness. All The Sparks are I. Each are just as I as Tarun is. Which means I can look from Tarun’s eyes. Or I can look Shireen’s eyes. Tarun can peer from Ishvar the table cleaner’s eyes at a table in a room where Tarun is not. Tarun can eavesdrop on the worried waiting of Someshwar. I sense 30 odd lives like independent strands, now and then giving bursts of lived experience.

The Self That Spans A Thousand Lives. But as I do so, the numbers expand to 1000’s. The easiest for me, is to follow the swarm of many lives, but centre myself in myself. Another is like a star with brilliant rays flaring down. More difficult to sense is the unknowable within like emptiness in a drum, and the many I’s like strands of sound around.
Now I can keep this for myself, but as I attempt to share it, 99% switch off go into a fugue state. 3 in their dreams will see a figure dark or light with a thousand fingers, another will sense it as a woman with many tresses, the third will sense a confluence of 3 rivers. The gurgle that is very real is a transfer of sound from my wash basin moving into the realm of dream. A dog who is filled with this knowledge feels its heart boom impossibly big, fed with this sense of stature it takes on a much larger dog, and wins, then stands shaking its head, just avoids a racing truck.  

The Galactic Self That Spans A Million Lives. Then the numbers increase still further and more organisations of consciousness appear. One like a river with infinite ripples. Each wavelet a being. The familiar one like a gigantic chandelier appears too, I am each of the million I’s, briefly each known, then thrown into a true vast connection.

I am a myriadness, a manyness, an everywhereness.

Oneness Versus Manyness, Allness Versus Unnness: At Creator’s Child our central concept is called the Cosmic Heart, it states that we all citizens of a place of dazzling oneness from which we are projected out. It can be described more accurately as we are not here but in All-Encompassing One-pointed, Vibrational Onenesss, beyond time, space and matter. And the moment we say the magic word Oneness many nod their heads for mystic literature across India and the world speaks the same language, of a great unity. But there are vital reasons why we should savour this different flavour of God… that may be described equally as a Great Manyness… An Allness…

The Manyness -- a Flavour of God with Deep Implications: Why is this so important? you ask. What is the difference between Oneness and Allness, and The Void or Shunyata. Many spiritual systems based on oneness, argue that since there is only One the ego is falsity, passions a lie, all human connections are chains. While if one begins with Manyness or The Great Tree one will not arrive at the same conclusion.

Now the other reason deals with actual spiritual Spiritual Growth versus Spiritual Stagnation.

Manyness helps us see the growth process more clearly: “What do we mean?” you ask. Well the truth is most of us already experience oneness, but it is that of someone marooned on an Island of Me. I am one, everyone and everything else just things around. If you cut off a finger even infected you will experience pain. But if you feel another’s pain like our own, our interactions will be very different. So often when people talk of oneness they merely think of a Me, only bigger. But Oneness is not a Big Me. Nor is Onepointedness a dot, but more like a Sound that embraces all. Many experience a higher egoic freedom and believe it to be Oneness. It is closer to the skies, but light years away from the true splendour of God, but since the seekers think they have reached the ultimate, many are actually trapped in a cul-de-sac.

Examining The Price of Going from an Island to a Starry Constellation: We are so locked up within ourselves, so held, so integrally ‘one’ in the Ego’s island, even in deep meditation, that little prepares us for being everywhere… scattering like shattered glass, or a flock of starlings in utter independence. For being a kaleidoscope held up to a God’s is breathtaking, humbling, liberating… And without this shattering we cannot go from bud to flower, twig to tree…

Many ask but why? Why do I have to shatter? Well, an egg does not grow into a big egg. A seed does not grow into a big seed. Transformation helps us go from the static to the dynamic.

Experiencing God’s Reality though the human mind and experiencing the divine through the little blinkers of the human mind, are two different things. For simultaneously God is an event, a carnival in which all the madness of a million universes explodes in one single word, This is Oneness. And God is a child’s innocence, on whose chalk slate a myriad realities are drawn and erased. Or you can approach God as the vastness of a majestic tree in which the sap blazes through every leaf.

Understanding the immense-smallness, the childlike ragingness, the good-vehemence, the loving-cruelty of God and growing from it is hugely challenging. Purists think it can be approached through purity. Sorry, for the same ever-present creator takes great pleasure in shaping the shit that emerged from Hitler’s arse. Humanists think ok, I can be very human, and then will be challenged as they are shown the hate and disgust all others have for us as a species, and our idiocy today. Rationalists believe that God is understanding till the frames of their minds are ripped by the flux of God’s mind. Sensualists think I call on the Shakti and things are cool, but few realise the joy of the Kundalini will also give way to the searing touch of Lava. Those who trust, those with courage, those with love, those with one-pointedness, those who have risen above suffering, those willing to learn, those willing to get up from defeat a thousand times…  they are better able to handle the impossibility of ant realising it is a megaton giant whose most potent arm is not a big bang but a delightful smile…

We are not islands. We are not alone. We are deeply connected. We are not I's. But We's. We are immensities. We are Chandeliers, Orchestras, Choirs, Flocks... We are More wearing for awhile skimpy costumes of humanhood.

You also may wish to read Oneness in Real Life. A socratean session of Kanak with Tarun...

And We Are Not Islands


This article is based on an experience on 9th October 2016. And others of Celia & Tarun from 1975-to Now. The interconnectedness experience was been triggered by a conscious reexploration of this facet as we took Kanak in deeper... and also with the many recent awakenings with Geetha, Nirmala, Trishla, Vasu, Kamala, Diana, Divya, Shweta, Ashwin, Ravi...