#Self Enquiry

[vesora]

original post by bumlehri on instagram

Q: I am convinced that I am, but I am not convinced of what I am. Intellectually I know I am the Self but I don’t experience this. I have to make a lot of effort.

Annamalai Swami: To experience the Self you have to dive deep into the consciousness ‘I am’.

Q: You mean I should keep the mind there?

Annamalai Swami: Yes. When you see the rope as a rope there is no snake. You also know that there was never a snake. When you cease to imagine that you are a mere body and a mind, reality shines of its own accord. If you stabilize in this state you can see that the mind didn’t go anywhere; you understand that it never really existed. ‘Keeping the mind in its source’ is just another way of saying: ‘Understanding that it never existed.’

Q: But how is one to awaken from perpetual body-consciousness? For consciousness to manifest one must have a body.

Annamalai Swami: If there is constant meditation that consciousness is your own reality in which all phenomena are appearing and disappearing, that meditation is the activity of the sattvic (pure, clean) mind. It is this activity which erases and dissolves the tamas (e.g. inertia or dullness, inactivity) and rajas (selfish desires e.g. sexual lust) which cover the reality.

The human body is the only vehicle in which it is very convenient to realize the unmanifest Self. With the body and the mind we can investigate and discover the Reality that remains unaffected by the body and the mind.

We should regard the body in the same way we regard a car. …

Q: No matter how quiet I get or how still my mind is, I never get to see the world as an indivisible whole. Even when my mind is completely still, if I open my eyes I still see a world of separate objects.

Annamalai Swami: When the one who sees vanishes, the world of multiplicity goes with it. You don’t see the unity and indivisibility, you are it. You can never see the Self or Brahman, you can only be it.

The Guru may tell his disciples a thousand times, ‘You are the Self, you are not what you imagine yourself to be’, but none of them ever believes him. They all keep asking the Guru for methods and routes to reach the place where they already are.

Q: Why don’t we give up our false ideas as soon as we are told that they are false?

Annamalai Swami: We have identified with our false ideas for many previous lifetimes. The habit is very strong. But not so strong that it cannot be dissolved through constant meditation.

Q: The seeker has many ideas: ‘I am a jiva (personality), I am bound and have to do sadhana ("methodical discipline to attain desired knowledge or goal) to attain liberation’. Should we forget all these ideas?

Annamalai Swami: Yes, forget them all! ‘I am the Self, I am all’. Hold onto this awareness. All other paths are roundabouts.

Q: Bhagavan said that repeating, ‘I am the Self’ or ‘I am not this body’ is an aid to enquiry but does not constitute the enquiry itself.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Annamalai Swami: The meditation, ‘I am not the body or the mind, I am the immanent Self’ is a great aid for as long as one is not able to do self-enquiry properly or constantly. Bhagavan said, ‘Keeping the mind in the Heart is self-enquiry’. If you cannot do this by asking ‘Who am I?’ or by taking the I-thought back to its source, then meditation on the awareness ‘I am the all-pervasive Self’ is a great aid.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Bhagavan often said that we should read and study the Ribhu Gita regularly.

In the Ribhu Gita it is said: ‘That bhavana (mental attitude) ‘I am not the body, I am not the mind, I am Brahman, I am everything,’ is to be repeated again and again until this becomes the natural state.’ Bhagavan sat with us every day while we chanted extracts from the Ribhu Gita which affirm the reality of the Self. It is true that he said that these repetitions are only an aid to self-enquiry, but they are a very powerful aid.

By practicing this way the mind becomes more and more attuned with the reality. When the mind has become purified by this practice, it is easier to take it back to its source and keep it there. When one is able to abide in the Self directly, one doesn’t need aids like this. But if this is not possible these practices can definitely help one.

- Living by the Words of Bhagawan.

[thebuddhajnanaproject]

To Know the False as False

If we truly wish to know, not just intellectually but to penetrate through direct immersive apperception of that which is -- namely truth -- then we must first investigate and identify what is false, or what is not true. 

We must identify all of our assumptions, all of our boundaries and definitions and concepts regarding who we are, what life is, what reality is, what existence is. We must identify whatever assumptions we hold regarding what appears. If we truly wish to know, we must first cut through what is false, for what is true simply is; what is false, isn't, nor was it ever, nor will it ever be. 

If we wish to know, we must commit ourselves, not to a dogma or a religion or a person or a perceived authority or other -- we must commit ourselves to a radical inquiry, permanently perceiving the false as false. We must be ready to let go of all these chains which appear to bind us to "who we think ourselves to be," in order to truly see -- as it is, as it was, as it always will be.

[kamala-laxman]

Self-inquiry begins as a method and ends as a mirror, a mirror in which the timeless perceives its formless reflection.  Mooji

[filmcentury]

Reality is simply the loss of ego. Destroy the ego by seeking its identity. Because the ego is no entity it will automatically vanish and reality will shine forth by itself.

Ramana Maharshi (1879 – 1950), Be As You Are, The Teachings of Sri Ramana Maharshi, edited by David Godman (1989)

[shinymoonbird]

"Ramana Maharshi's Forty Verses on What Is"

🕉️ 🔱  Om Namo Bhagavate Sri Arunachala Ramanaya   🔱 🕉️

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From the Book: Ramana Maharshi’s Forty Verses on What Is - A compilation of the writings and talks on Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu - By Michael James (published by Sandra Derksen)

Extract from: Editor’s note

🕉

Michael’s explanation about not capitalising ‘s’ in ‘self’

There is one point I would like to mention and on which I had to ask Michael’s advice. I noticed that he did not capitalise the ‘s’ in ‘self’ or ‘self-investigation’, among other terms, something I was used to doing myself and encountered when reading texts by others who write and talk about ‘the Self’. I want to share his detailed explanation with you, because it provides an important clarification that can deepen your understanding of Bhagavan’s teachings and who you actually are; to my knowledge, he is unique in this usage.

Michael avoids the term ‘the Self’ as it is usually written in English books. One reason is that there is no such term in either Sanskrit or Tamil, because they contain no definitive articles (‘the’) and, secondly, there are no capital letters.

Another reason is when we talk of ‘the Self’ we are reifying it. We make it sound like ‘the Self’ is something, but obviously there is no such thing as ‘the Self’ other than the thing whose self it is. Everything is itself. The lamp post is itself, the road is itself, the water in the lake is itself, you are yourself, I am myself. From where can we extract some separate thing called ‘the Self’? If we talk about something, ‘the Self’, then it seems to imply something other than ourself. So, we do not naturally talk about ‘the Self’: ‘the Self’ is now going for a walk, ‘the Self’ is now leaving a message. We do not talk like that, we say ‘I’: I myself am doing it. So, using the word ‘Self’ as a noun with a definitive article, ‘the’, reifies it.

‘Self’ is better understood as a pronoun because the word ‘self’ refers to something. Whose self is it? You are yourself, I am myself. So, if you use ‘self’ it can have a meaning only in a particular context, like any pronoun. If you say ‘he’, ‘she’ or ‘it’, that has to refer to something, and if it is not clear from the context what it is referring to, it is meaningless. If you have got a group of fifty people and you say, ‘He and she are the ones I am looking for’, which he and she? There are so many he’s and she’s. So we can use pronouns only in context where it is clear what the pronoun is referring to. Pronouns do not have a fixed reference, their reference is determined by the context.

The only pronoun that could arguably have a fixed reference is ‘I’, because when we each use the term ‘I’, we are always referring to ourself. But if you say ‘I’ you are referring to someone different than when I say ‘I’. That is, when we use the word ‘I’ in the usual sense, in the superficial sense that we usually use it, for me ‘I’ refers to Sandra, for Michael ‘I’ refers to himself. That is, of course, not the real meaning of ‘I’, but that is the sense in which we usually use the word ‘I’. So ‘self’ is like that, ‘self’ is regarded as a pronoun, which is why Michael generally translates the Sanskrit term ātman, and the equivalent term in Tamil, namely taṉ, as ‘oneself’ or ‘ourself’. That is a more natural way of expressing it in English.

Also, when we use capital letters, when we talk about ‘the Self’ with a capital ‘S’ and another ‘self’ with a small ‘s’, there is implied duality there, as if there are two selves. Something that Bhagavan repeatedly said is that there are not two selves, there is only one self. What we actually are is the pure awareness ‘I am’ without any adjuncts. But now we experience ourself mixed and conflated with adjuncts, as ‘I am Michael’, ‘I am Sandra’, ‘I am whoever’. That is the same ‘I am’, but the ‘I am’ in pure condition is our real nature, the ‘I am’ mixed and conflated is ego. So it is not that there are two selves, it is ourself as we actually are and ourself as ego, just like the rope and the snake are not two different things. There is only one thing there. What is actually there is just a rope. But the difference between the snake and the rope is not a difference in substance, it is a difference in appearance. So in some places it may be useful to make a distinction between ego and our real nature.

Often when we use the word ‘self’, or when Bhagavan uses the word ‘self’, it is not specifically referring to ego or to our real nature. For example, in the word ātma-vicāra, is the ātma in ātma-vicāra ego or is it our real nature? Well, it is not necessary to say, because we begin by investigating what seems to be ego and we discover it to be our real nature. That is, if you look carefully at the snake, you see it is a rope. If you look carefully at ego, you see it is pure awareness. It ceases as ego and it remains as pure awareness. That is, it ceases to appear as ego. So ātma-vicāra is usually translated as ‘self-enquiry’. Michael thinks a more useful and accurate translation is ‘self-investigation’. But whether you use ‘self-enquiry’ or ‘self-investigation’ most people will put a capital ‘S’ for that. But why put a capital ‘S’ there? We are not investigating some big self that we do not know, we are investigating the very self that we are. So by introducing capitals that you sometimes use and sometimes do not use, you are limiting the meaning, because when you put a small ‘s’ it means ego, if you put a big ‘S’ it means our real nature. It just creates an unnecessary dichotomy, an unnecessary and false duality, that does not actually exist. Sometimes ātma means ego, for example, in the term ātma-samarpaṇa, which means self-surrender. What is the self that needs to be surrendered? Obviously that is not our real nature, it is ego. So that is another reason why Michael prefers not to use capitals.

Then people sometimes use capitals, for example, for ‘consciousness’ or ‘awareness’. Sometimes they put a capital and sometimes they do not. But again, you make it sound like there are two ‘consciousnesses’, two ‘awarenesses’. That is just creating a confusion. Bhagavan did distinguish between pure consciousness and the adjunct-mixed consciousness that we call ‘ego’. But that does not mean that there are two ‘consciousnesses’. It is one consciousness: one in its pure condition and one and the same consciousness mixed and conflated with adjuncts, which is called cidābhāsa, the semblance of awareness. So as soon as you start using capitals you have to decide in each case whether you are referring to what is real or to what is unreal — whether you are referring to the reality, or whether you are referring to the appearance. If it is the reality, you have to put a capital ‘S’, if it the appearance you have to put a small ‘s’. But what if you do not want to specify if you are talking about the reality or the appearance, you are just talking about the thing in general? So it creates an unnecessary confusion that is not there.

All duality is false. That is, thinking in terms of two selves, a big ‘Self’ and a small ‘self’, is not helpful, because it is missing the whole point of Bhagavan’s teachings. Michael affirms this is an important point. It is not just a matter of literary style, it is a matter of conveying what Bhagavan is saying in the clearest and most accurate way that is true to how he expressed himself.

🕉

A free book sample is available (includes ‘Introduction by Michael James’) on:

https://u.pcloud.link/publink/show?code=XZol6NVZvajJMSyzNgz6hM4lY75mkzrbjgY7&fbclid=IwAR020rUa3su0MIDiVU4hO2XpkhIhBsBK0bmt_XY33csWqNSbrqTecwtphFw

🕉

[1introvertedsage]

I hold a beast, an angel, and a madman in me, and my enquiry is as to their working, and my problem is their subjugation and victory, down throw and upheaval, and my effort is their self-expression.

~Dylan Thomas~

[lexlawuk]

Case Study: HMRC Enquiry Notice Deemed Out of Time

In the recent case of Richard Monks v HMRC [2023] UKFTT 853 (TC), the First-tier Tribunal (FTT) made a significant ruling regarding the validity of HMRC’s enquiry into the taxpayer’s tax returns. This article explores the background of the case, the FTT decision, and the implications it holds for taxpayers facing similar circumstances. HMRC TAX DISPUTES LEGAL ADVICE & DEFENCEOur lawyers have a…

[zoneofsilence1]

[starshipsofstarlord]

Sleepless

Summary -> On the farm, you struggle to fall asleep due to all the things that you know that surround you, from the walkers in the barn to Shane. The only thing that can make you feel any comfort is Daryl (1.4k)

Warnings -> harassment, angst, fluff, manipulation, mention of death, fighting, swearing

daryl dixon / norman reedus works masterlist

No matter how many times you had attempted to fall asleep, it was nearly impossible. You and the group that you had found in Atlanta had set up camp on the Greene's farm, everything seemed too good to be true, and that is exactly what it was.

Glenn had told you about the captive walkers that were held up in the barn, and it was only a matter of time until Shane with his explosive temper took control of the situation. It was better when you didn't know about the holding cell for the dead, but there was nothing that you could do to erase the cursed knowledge from your brain.

It was easier to stay awake, and so you sat beside the small fire that was throwing heat at you, whilst your comrades had already retreated to their tents. The snap of a twig alerted your ears to the presence of another, and instantaneously you were on defence, grasping your knife from the loop of your weaponry belt in the grip of your hand.

A part of you hoped that it was Daryl whom had been so cooped up with finding the whereabouts of Sophia, which made yo love him even more, however your luck dwindled when you saw who it was.

It was a boulder of a man that had changed a lot from the time that you had met him, his eyes were dark and dangerous as he headed towards you, some kind of intent in his unfaltering steps.

"Couldn't sleep either?" You asked Shane, loosening your grip on the sharp object in your hand but refusing to let it go. He grunted a reply and a stiff nod in relation to your enquiry, sitting close next to you, which made your bones stiffen. Since his best friend Rick Grimes had made a return into his life, it was as though a switch had been switched in that mind of his.

You tried not to think of his tale of how Otis had supposedly sacrificed himself either, as you among others had suspicions that he hadn't quite told you all the truth. "Something like that." He spoke. You'd never had much interaction with the man since he founded the old camp for you and the other survivors, unless you were killing walkers together or occasionally assigned to check the perimeter, however Daryl had always reminded you to be careful.

Shane may have been on the same journey as the rest of you, but he'd become more damaged through your journey to live so far. "At least there's some stars to watch, I loved looking up at them as a kid. Now the worlds gone to shit, but that is one of the only things that has't changed." It felt strange having a conversation so light hearted with the man, but it was just to bide time in your eyes until morning arose.

"Can't say the same about your taste in men - after all you're dating that redneck that is lost in the thought that he'll actually find the girl out there. I'm sure before all this you had some kind of self respect." He scoffed, which. Only made you shoot a glare at him which was equally matched with one of his own. But you knew not to retaliate, for your own protection, not after how he had hurt Lori as she had told you in secrecy.

"I think I'm tired after all." You gritted out from behind your teeth, going to stand until Shane followed you, grasping your elbow with a vice grip that would no doubt leave a bruise upon your flesh. "Shame, let go. This isn't you." This was exactly him, the cold shell of a person that he had become from the horrible things that he had bore and witnessed. Your voice had been sharp, a warning if he knew what was best for him. He'd always been smart with his sneaky actions, but the bitter scent of whisky that blew in your face told you that he wasn't in his usual solitary mind.

"Why should I? So you can go back to a man that you're too good for and cares more about a child and his dead brother than you?" That was the last straw, you couldn't let him wrap your mind in a bubble of lies about Daryl for a single second, so you raised your right hand and butted him in the nose with the dull end of your knife, causing the man to stumble back. But he still refused to retract his hand, he pulled you closer, snarling in your face.

"Shane, stop!" You yelled, hoping that someone would hear you. As he dragged you back towards the fire that now felt anything but warm to you, you rammed your boot into his shin, taking his moment of weakness to raise your blade against his throat, taking advantage of his vulnerable and slightly bent form. "You really think that doing your own thing, causing conflict and rumours is the right thing. Then shame on you. You threaten me, or slander my man again, I'll feed you to the walkers in that barn myself."

With that he finally released you, feeling an inkling of regret for the first time in months, allowing you to stroll away and back to your tent. No one had heard you, Daryl was out cold, no doubt exhausted from his endless searching. Maybe he really did care about the dead and lost more than he did you, you zipped the tent up, careful as to not wake the man in your blankets, as you curled up in the corner and rested your head upon your knees, allowing the tears to fall behind the barricade of your legs.

But even if Daryl were tired, and he hadn't heard your loud words to Shane, as it had been farther out by the cars, he definitely heard your broken sobs that you attempted to mute. He shuffled in the sleeping bag, sitting up right and searching his surroundings, until his eyes finally landed on you. In a panicked haze he slipped beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulled your head up so he could see your face. "Wha' happened?" He asked, desperately wanting to find the reason behind your pain.

"Shane, he-he.." Oh god no, Daryl thought. His blue orbs ran all over you until he saw the sore spot between your upper and lower arm, anger fuelling him into an awakened state. "He grabbed me, and I was this close to slitting his throat. I was okay with doing it, I just didn't want us to get kicked out from here - we'd die out there. And I don't want to die but Shane's gonna kill all of us." Daryl held you rather than hunting down the man that had caused you so much sorrow, as much as he wanted to, you were more important.

"Look a' me. You didn't do anything wrong, you defended yourself," he tucked your hair behind your ear, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "we should tell Rick in the morning. He's a loose cannon and if he's coming after our own, it's not just that barn we have to be wary of." That damn barn was the last of your worries now, you were turning on each other, stupidly enough when you'd found a place safer than others to reside in. "And I'll deal with Shane. No one touches ma girl." He stated, seriousness underlaying his tone.

"I love you Daryl." You hiccuped, brushing the droplets from beneath your eyes, desperately looking up at him. Everything Shane said was a lie, it was just another one of his many ploys to have everyone under his thumb, just like how he persuaded Andrea to stand beside him in some of his brash decisions. He fed off her pain from losing Amy, and he was a wolf in sheep's clothing, prowling around and hunting for his next prey. Tonight it so happened to be you.

"Love you more." He leant down, smouldering your lips with his own, gently cupping your face. "We'll get Herschel to check your arm when he's awake, right now you need to rest. And if you want to sit outside and look at the stars, you wake me, ya got it?" You nodded, laying your head on his chest and the rest of your body weight atop of him, until you finally drifted off. And for once you didn't have a nightmare, instead you saw nothing, which was a blessing in disguise, the real blessing however were that you and Daryl were still alive, and you had each other for as long as you both breathed.

[ayaboba]

FLY ME TO THE MOON

summary: you ask them to fly you to the moon.

characters: aether, albedo, alhaitham, ayato, baizhu, childe, cyno, diluc, heizou, itto, kaeya, kaveh, kazuha, thoma, tighnari, wanderer, xiao, zhongli.

cw: gn! reader, not proofread.

stares blankly - aether, heizou, zhongli, albedo.

bombarding them with odd questions never ceases to render them completely speechless, despite the countless times you have. their intelligence flies out the nearest window. and this particular one, asked so nonchalantly, so casually, like an enquiry about the weather, a generous minute is needed to recover. to blink away the confusion, and sneakily observe you. do you seem serious? or are they just the victim of your usual dosage of self-indulgent teasing? sometimes distinguishing the difference is harder than the question itself.

“hey, could you please fly me to the moon?”

“…”

hands you some cheese - childe, cyno, itto, diluc

thinks they’re very funny. absolutely hilarious. they can’t even hide the muffled sniggers as they look into your face of disbelief, cheese dangling in your hand where it was placed. cheese? of all possible answers, you were given a block of cheese. and their face, an annoyingly smug grin plastered onto it, almost makes you want to shove the piece of cheese right into their mouth. you were expecting some romantic answer, complimented with some cute gestures, but no. all you received was some smelly piece of camembert.

“cheese?”

“yes, camembert.”

“…do you get it? well, it’s because-“

“the couch looks nice, doesn’t it?”

“how about we watch it together instead?” - kaveh, kazuha, thoma, baizhu

smiles whilst answering. kind as ever, they’re willing to do the next closest thing. if they can’t fly you to the moon, they dearly hope watching it with you will be just as enjoyable.

when you explain it was just a joke, that you weren’t serious about being flown to the moon, they softly laugh and reply with something along the lines of just wanting you to be happy. your happiness is their happiness, they will always try their best for you. so sometimes, it makes you wonder how someone could be so infinitely loving and beautiful.

“keep on dreaming” - wanderer, xiao

meanies who understand the joke but takes it seriously (to purposely rile you up ??) in all honesty, they would 100% take you to the moon and back a thousand times if they could. they tend hide the depths of their love under sentences that have double-sided meanings. all dreams must come to an end, don’t they? something (or someone) will have to wake you up. they know they can’t fly you to the moon, but that doesn’t stop them from doing something just as miraculously sweet.

“what a crazy mind you have” - al haitham, tighnari, ayato, kaeya

secretly amused. despite having a disapproving tone in their voice, their face and mannerisms tells a different story. your creativity with these questions get his mind thinking into overdrive, as he tries to come up with a reply just as smooth and unforeseen. but today, they settle with a comment on your thought process. (affectionately and jokingly, of course.)

“i was thinking… could you fly me to the moon?”

“what a crazy mind you have.”

“so that’s a no?”

“when you do find a way to fly to the moon, tell me.”

he does want to fly you to the moon <3

© ayaboba. do not copy, modify or translate in any way.

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: Just some things about the Ramshackle Prefect and Scarabia's vice-housewarden <3

Pairing: Jamil Viper × Yuu / Gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff mostly, a little bit of angst

TW: NA (for now, please let me know if I should add trigger warnings and for what ^^)

Jamil is no stranger to looks of awe and envy. A large part of it is owed to his status as a servant of the Asim family, as well as being Kalim's closest friend and retainer. But when the Prefect looks at him, they look at him in awe of his skills. Of how he expertly manages to tackle every obstacle Kalim unwittingly puts in his way. Of how his hands work quickly and efficiently in the kitchen as he stirs and mixes and makes food for the entirety of Scarabia. Of how he manages to give his best (despite the limitations set upon him by his status) in everything he does. For them, his status as a servant matters little; his hardwork is seen for what it is, and appreciated genuinely.

Jamil takes good care of his looks. As Kalim's retainer, he is required to look after his appearance, lest even the slightest of mistakes bring scrutiny upon the Asim family. The gold trinkets braided into his hair are a symbol of his status and servitude, of pride and resentment, yet he finds that resentment slowly die down as the Prefect plays with the accessories, batting at them with all the curiosity and wonder of a little kitten. His voicing of the fact only gets him a playful pout from them, which leaves him a little weak in the knees and a little short of breath. He thanks his lucky stars that they are both sitting on his bed, for surely his traitorous legs would have given away underneath him had he been standing.

Jamil stays up at night, quite a lot. His responsibilities do not end when the Asim heir finally falls asleep; for some reason, they seem to increase. Between his own studying, making rounds of the dorm so that no unruly dorm members (or housewardens) sneak off in the middle of the night, and countless other tasks, it is a miracle that he even gets time to rest his ever watchful eyes. Yet he smiles each time the Prefect stumbles over to him, half-asleep as they tug at his arms and mumble that he needs to sleep and that they are not taking no for an answer (not that he would say no to such an adorable request) and goes along with what they say.

Jamil is not one to bare his heart to just anybody. It takes time and dedication to peel back all his layers, his self doubt, to truly get him to speak about everything and anything that is bothering him. Yet sometimes, sometimes things are too difficult to talk about, and Jamil is too tired to think about them. So when the Prefect opens their arms, inviting him in their soft and safe embrace, he obliges with a soft murmur that is his thanks to them. They rub his back, and Jamil cannot stop himself from melting under their wordless yet tender care, holding onto his beloved Prefect with all the strength he can muster in that moment.

Jamil is very perceptive; very little misses his keen gaze. He sees how each incident the Prefect invariably gets roped into takes away a little part of them. The light in their eyes is a little dimmer each time they meet his, and their smiles a little more forced as they gently turn down his enquiries about their health. Each matter resolved, each overblot fought saps their energy and shakes their will, and Jamil knows it is only a matter of time before they fall down like a house of cards. He can see them working themself to the bone, running on fumes and sheer determination to save all those who had endeared themselves to the Prefect. So he insists, borderline begging even, to take care of them. Even for just one day, one hour. He just wants to be there for them, the way they always are for him.

Jamil shows his care in subtle ways in public. Carrying an extra lunch for the Prefect, sitting next to them in class, helping them with their studies, all these are ways he shows his favor to them. In private, he whispers declarations of love and devotion to them, reveling in how flustered they get even as his own heart thumps loudly inside his chest. He stumbles over his words when they carefully hold one of his braids up to their lips, leaving a kiss on the dark strands while maintaining eye contact with him; a silent declaration more powerful and potent than any of his teasing words.

[kamala-laxman]

Self-inquiry begins as a method and ends as a mirror, a mirror in which the timeless perceives its formless reflection. Mooji

[finniestoncrane]

Portrait Session

Capullo!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 1k commission: artist reader is propositioned by edward nygma to paint a portrait of him showcasing all his best features... 💚 commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: non-consensual nudity from eddie but is that really a negative? plus some suggestive stuff

Usually, the end of the day was your favourite time in the studio. There was something soothing about tidying up and cleaning things away. It provided that sense of completion, even if you hadn’t manage to get very far in any pieces through the hours you’d spent there. So it was more irritating than anything else when you were suddenly interrupted as you washed your brushes in the sink. You could smell the overly fragrant cologne before you could feel the hand over your mouth, feel the warmth of the breath before the words were whispered into your ear.

“Ok… don’t do anything stupid… because we know how this goes… just, turn around slowly and I might uncover your mouth, ok?”

You nodded, rolling your eyes as you placed the voice. Nothing surprised you much in Gotham anymore, and very little scared you. But there was one thing that you found annoying, more than anything else, and now you were face to face with it.

“Edward Nygma, The Riddler, but of course, you know who I am.”

He flashed a grin and let go of your mouth.

“Yep. Very aware of you.”

“Oh, a fan, hm?”

He raised his eyebrows a few times, smiling at you with a lewd grin.

“Hardly. How did you get in here?”

“I’m The Riddler, idiot. That’s what you’re wondering? Not why I’m here, or what I might do to you?”

He winked and you felt your eyes roll again. Everything about him bothered you, and to be perfectly honest you would rather he killed you or knocked you out to steal whatever he might need, anything to stop him from talking.

“Ok, fine. Enlighten me.”

“Well, you never replied to my email enquiry. So I thought I’d stop by in person.”

“Oh! Yes! I remember that…”

A few weeks ago, you had received a curious email regarding the potential for you to capture the likeness of him in a portrait. You had initially thought it might be a scam, or a prank, but the ludicrous amount of compliments regarding his own features, and the horribly self-indulgent signature which was filled with riddles and more compliments, assured you that it might be genuine. And of course, if it was, you wanted nothing to do with it.

“So you did read it. And you chose not to respond to me?”

“Yep. Don’t get told ‘no’ often, huh?”

“Not by anyone that matters. And ordinarily, you definitely wouldn’t matter. But… your art is… different. Better. I like it. And I really, really want you to paint me.”

You shook your head silently, but he kept pleading.

“Come on! I can make it worth your while. Very worth your while.”

“I doubt that very much.”

Ignoring the suggestive grin on his face, you chose to take a look down his body, letting your gaze linger on his crotch as you served your cutting response.

“Ouch. But I was actually thinking monetarily, for once.”

Taking a quick look around the studio, you considered what a little bit of extra cashflow could do for you. New paints, new materials, restock the cabinets. Maybe add a skylight if he was feeling extra generous.

“Ok… fine. I’ll paint your portrait. Let me get my things set up and we can bash this out as quickly as possible.”

“That’s usually how I operate.”

Scoffing at him, you turned to grab your supplies, some brushes, a canvas, some paints, and when you returned your gaze to Edward Nygma, you found him shirtless and removing his pants.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“Uh… duh?”

He spread his arms out to the side, displaying his undressed form to you as his pants slid down his waist, leaving him in just his underwear.

“You’re gonna paint me nude.”

“I am?”

He threw his head back, sighing in exasperation.

“It really is me looking at my best, and I’m sure you’ll agree once you’ve seen me in all of my glory.”

You covered your eyes with your hand and turned your head slightly as Eddie removed his underwear, but you stole a quick glance at him before he told you to open your eyes. Facing him completely, you blinked a few times to adjust to the view.

“Well… see anything you like?”

Annoyingly, you did. He was slim, not toned, with a soft patch of red chest hair, and another patch of the same bright hue around his flaccid cock. And as he grinned, the self-satisfied smirk that usually irritated you, you found yourself blushing slightly.

“Let’s just get started now, come on.”

“Ah, ah, ah! Not quite yet, still got one more thing to do.”

He reached down to his cock, gripping it in his hand, and began to stroke it.

“Woah! Hey! What are you doing?”

“Well, I’m not going to have a portrait painted where I’m not looking my best or biggest.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’ll just be a second. Maybe you could… help me out?”

You let out an incredulous laugh, and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Suit yourself then.”

It was hard to take your eyes off of him as he stroked his cock, and you could see in your peripheral that he was staring intently back at you. Eventually though, the pleasure had taken precedent, and his eyes were closing as he let his mouth fall open. Soft sighs spilled out as his hand moved up and down his swiftly growing length quicker. You could tell he was reaching climax, which definitely wasn’t the point of this at all. And you knew, unfortunately, you should step in to prevent this from going any further.

“Ok… are you ready to start now, Mister Nygma?”

“Sure am, and I’m ready for some other things too.”

With another wink, he looked down to his cock, smiling back at you, a hopeful tone to his words. If he kept this up, you’d be here a lot longer than it would take you just to finish the painting.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

You Can't Do Everything - Charles Leclerc

<word count - 1929>

It had been another stressful day, to say the least. You had been overrun with work for a while now, but it was getting borderline ridiculous.

You'd be at work for hours, then you'd get home and spend your free time doing more. There was always more.

Charles had been away all week, at a race as per usual. He could sense in your voice that you weren't your normal self, but when he asked, you just said you were tired or you missed him. He knew it was a lie.

Now, you had gotten home and allowed yourself to get changed into something comfier. The outfit consisted of some light shorts and a grey hoodie.

You logged into your computer and spent about an hour typing the typical disingenuous and menial responses to the people who had emailed.

You left for a few minutes and returned to find another barrage of around 20 emails in response or as new enquiries. Not more fucking emails.

You groaned, resting your head in your hands. You felt hot tears of frustration burning the backs of your eyes.

All of the pent up anger and annoyance that had been simmering all week finally bubbled over and you allowed those tears to flow down your cheeks.

Why couldn't someone else do the emails? Why couldn't you have a break? When did people stop sending stupid fucking emails?

You heard the front door click open and closed. Charles was home. Quickly, you swiped the tears off of your reddened cheeks and tried to paint a somewhat content expression on your face.

You knew he wouldn't buy it, but maybe it would deter him from seeing how much worse you felt.

Charles, meanwhile, gazed around the kitchen and saw the mess it was in. Empty take out containers were littered about the countertop and there was a small mountain of dishes piled up in the sink.

He sighed to himself, confirming his suspicions in his head. He knew you worked too much when he was away, but there was nothing he could do. He tried telling you to stop multiple times, but you wouldn't listen. In some ways it was admirable, you had a terrific work ethic and dedication.

In others, you sometimes took it too far. The mess of the kitchen being a direct reflection of that.

You clicked open an email and skim read the contents. Just as you started replying, your bedroom door opened and footsteps padded towards you over the carpet.

"Hey, mon amour," he softly said, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head. You leant back into his grasp slightly, wanting to melt in his arms.

"Hi," you shortly responded, feeling another lump in your throat forming. 

"How have you been?" he asked, his eyes scanning the screen and wondering how long you had been sat there for.

"Fine," you replied. If you said anything more, your voice would break and then he'd know. "What have you been doing?" Charles asked, testing if you'd bend the truth slightly.

"Just working pretty much," you told him, continuing to type the email out. 

"How much?" he pressed, trying to spin your chair around but you braced yourself against the desk is he couldn't.

"Not too much," the lie rolled off your tongue. 

"Why do I get the feeling that's not true, my love?" he asked, this time spinning the chair around with ease.

Charles saw your flushed cheeks, slightly stained with mascara and your glazed over eyes. One look into his eyes and more salty tears flowed over onto your cheeks.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," he said, crouching down and balancing himself with his hands on your thighs. His fingers rubbed soothing circles and one is his hands wiped the tears from your cheeks.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked, but as you went to respond, all that you were able to let out was a choked sob. You shielded your face with your hands, not wanting to look at him. You thought he'd be mad at you for doing this to yourself again.

"It's just-" you started, before getting cut off by your tears again. 

"Come on, get up," he told you, tapping your legs as he stood. You unfurled your crumpled figure out of the chair, which had an imprint of your body engraved into it, and stood in front of Charles. 

He took a few steps backwards and sat down on the edge of the bed, opening his arms out to you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and buried your head in the crook of his neck. "It's alright, you're alright," he cooed, running his fingers up and down your spine. 

After a few minutes, you were able to calm down and breathe for a moment. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong now?" Charles asked, holding you closer to him. 

"There's just so much work to do and I can't do it," you said, wrapping yourself tighter around him to try and combat the second army of tears that were attacking the backs of your eyes. 

"There's just not enough time," you continued. 

"Time for what?"

"To finish all of the emails and get everything set up for tomorrow," you mumbled into his neck, itching to get back up and finish the work. "Baby, you can't do everything. There is only so much that you can do, and you've done enough," he explained.

"You've done too much as it is, so now you need to stop," he said.

"But I need to finish it now," you said, pulling yourself away from his embrace. 

"No, you don't. You've been neglecting yourself, and you need a break," he told you, not allowing you to wriggle out of his grasp. "But-"

"No, no buts. You're going to get in the bath, and I'm going to clean the kitchen," he said, standing with you still in his arms and standing you on the floor. "Sorry about that... I didn't really have time," you muttered, not able to meet his gaze out of embarrassment. 

"I don't care about the kitchen, I just care that you've been overworking yourself," he started saying, "It's not good for you, and you need to listen to me when I tell you to stop," 

You knew he was right, he always was when it came to this kind of thing. At this point, you thought it would be good to relax and rewind in the bath for a while, since your back was aching due to being sat in your chair for hours.

Charles took your hand and led you through to the bathroom, sitting you on the toilet lid. He set the hot water running, drizzling some of the pink bubble bath that you had into the water. You stood to sprinkle in some bath salts, but he snatched them out of your hands.

"Sit down, relax. Let me do it," he said, gently pushing you back. Of course, Charles took care of you all the time, but it made your heart sing that bit more when you really needed it. "Can I take this off?" he asked, pulling at the hem of your hoodie. 

"Yeah, course," you nodded, letting him slip the fabric over your head and tossing it into the laundry bin in the corner of the room. It left you in a white tank top, and the shorts from earlier. "And this?" he asked, running his hands over your sides and waist. 

"Mhm," you hummed. He took the garment off, leaving you exposed. He admired you for a minute, before rooting around in the draw and producing the massage oil you so dearly loved.

Charles turned you around so you were facing away from him, before dripping some oil onto your shoulders and upper back and rubbed his hands over the vicinity of your body. You let yourself curve into his touch as he worked his hands into your muscles, allowing your body to be soothed and relaxed. 

You rested your head atop the toilet, closing your eyes. Every now and then, when he glazed over a particularly sore spot, you let out a small hum of satisfaction. "That good?" he lightly chuckled.

"You bet," you replied, groaning in disappointment when he took his hands away from your skin to stop the water before the bath overflowed. "Don't stop," you whined, looking at him with the puppy eyes that made him melt on the spot. They were the eyes that got you whatever you wanted, no matter what. 

"But the water is going to get cold, baby," he smiled, wanting to carry on. 

"Just one more minute," you pouted, watching him crack and cave - just like you knew he would. "Fine, but don't complain if you get cold," he said, returning his hands to your smoothed skin and rubbing over you. 

"Come on, now you really need to get in," he laughed, pulling his hands away again. Yes, the bubble bath looked very inviting with its white clouds of foam and light trail of steam swirling up into the atmosphere. But, his hands felt so much better.

You didn't say anything, you just dropped the shorts off and into the laundry bin, before lowering yourself into the warm water. It stung your skin lightly, but in a pleasurable way that soothed the sore muscles. 

Once you were fully submerged, you rested your head against the back of the bath. Yo allowed yourself to close your eyes and sink into the calming haven of warmth that was the water. You hadn't even noticed Charles walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.

You missed him. His company and presence could calm you at any time, and it always helped to have him around. A few minutes later, the lights switched off and all you could see was a small flicker, dancing in the darkness through the doorway. 

Charles placed the candle down, lighting the others that were dotted around the room. He also handed you a steaming mug of hot chocolate, decorated with a slightly pathetic swirl of cream, but his effort made you smile uncontrollably. 

"I tried," he smiled, blushing as he looked at the small mound of cream on the beverage.

"It's perfect," you reassured. You would take this over a perfect swirl anyday. 

"No, you are," he stated. Despite the cheesiness, he never failed to make your heart skip a beat. He just had a way to make all of your issues dissipate into the ether. "I'll leave you in peace," he said.

"Are you mad at me?" you asked. He hated when you worked too much, and this wouldn't be the first time he came home to you being a mess because of overworking. 

"No, baby, no. I could never be mad at you. I just wished you saw that what you do is incredible and it is more than enough without you damaging your mental health," he said. You couldn't find the words to respond, so you just admired his stunning face. 

"Can you play for me?" you asked, not wanting to sit in silence for any longer since you thought you'd turn insane. "Whatever you want, my love," he smiled. 

You loved when he played piano. It was the most angelic, mystical, elysian sound in the world. Charles left, then the sound of MIA23 sounded through the apartment and you were able to close your eyes and let the music take you away.

Away from the emails. Away from work. Away from stress. 

All that you had now was Charles. And that was all you needed.

|masterlist|

[shinymoonbird]

🔱  Om Namo Bhagavathe Sri ArunachalaRamanaya   🔱  

🕉️  

The Paramount Importance of Self Attention, by Sri Sadhu Om, As recorded by Michael James

Part Six - Mountain Path: July – August 2013 - Excerpt

Note of 8th January 1978

🕉️  

Sadhu Om: Bhagavan begins verse thirteen of Ulladu Ναrpadu by saying: 'Self, which is abundant knowledge [jñānα], alone is real; knowledge that is manifold [that is, knowledge of multiplicity] is ignorance [ajñāna]'. Self-knowledge shines as 'am'. Multiplicity here includes the world, God and the ego. Since nothing exists unless it is known (experienced), our knowledge of multiplicity is itself the existence of that multiplicity.

He then continues the same verse by saying: 'Even [this] ignorance, which is unreal, does not exist apart from self, which is knowledge. All the many ornaments are unreal; say, do they exist apart from the gold, which is real?' That is, even the knowledge and existence of multiplicity cannot exist apart from or independent οf 'I am'. Multiplicity is like the variety of gold ornaments, and 'I am' is like gold, their substance. Just as a goldsmith sees only the gold, so the jñāni sees only 'I am', which is jñāna. When a jñāni says that the world is unreal, he means that multiplicity is ever non-existent, and when he says that the world is real, he means that 'I am' alone exists.

Religions try to make God, who is a third person, into a second person so that he may be known directly [sākshat], but even second persons are only known indirectly through the first person. When the light of 'I am' passes through the film of our vāsanās, it appears in two forms: as both the seer (the first person) and the seen (the second and third persons). The first person, 'I am so-and-so', is one of the expansions of the vāsanās — that is, it is one of the pictures (a name and form) projected on the screen of being by the light of consciousness. It is the first vāsanā, the root of all other vāsanās.

In Tamil the first person is called tanmai-y-idam, which literally means the 'selfness-place', because each of the three grammatical persons is considered to be a 'place' [idam]. The second person is called munnilai-y-idam, the 'place that stands in front', and the third person is called padarkkai-y-idam, the 'place that spreads out'. Therefore Bhagavan is discussing these three 'places' when he says in verse fourteen of Ulladu Narpadu:

If the first person [tanmai] [1] exists, the second and third persons [munnilai-padarkkaigal] [2] will exist. If the first person ceases to exist [because of] oneself investigating the truth of the first person, the second and third person, come to an end, and tanmai [the real 'selfness'], which shines as one [undivided by the appearance of the three seemingly separate persons or 'places'], alone is one's [true] state, which is self.

[1] First person: the ego or subject, ‘I’, named ‘I am the body’ [2] Second and third persons: the objects, ‘you’, ‘he’, ‘she’, ‘it’, ‘this’, ‘that’ and so on.

Therefore 'I am' is the true tanmai, and 'I am so-and-so' is a thief, a second person posing as if it were the first person or tanmai. True knowledge [jñāna] is attained only when the body and person that were taken to be 'I', the first person, are recognised to be second persons, things that are not 'I'.

One important point to note here in this verse is that Bhagavan does not say that this false first person, the ego, actually exists, but only says conditionally: 'If the first person exists ...'. He never actually accepted its existence.

Until they come to Bhagavan, people generally believe that self will be experienced if they get rid of all thoughts, which are second or third persons. They don't understand that the first person, which is the root of all thoughts, must also go. That is why when some people come and ask me what my experience is, I say that I do not have any experience, because in the absence of an experiencer there can be no experience.

Photos by Guy Gonyea