illusion

You went from my life right into my dreams,i can hardly tell,If i'm cursed or blessed ;I am sure things aren't always as they seem,but i drift away,mesmerized, possessed.Memories i have uncertain and fragile,Is what i have left and i have no peace,At dawn fades away,all that i imagine,i crave for your closeness,i need more then this.Perhaps you are meant to guide and inspire,to be ever timeless in the veil of mist,flowing through my being in flaming desire,the one i can't reach and cannot resist.My darling,unique,outstanding perfection,so utterly complex you can't be recreated,I may be unworthy of your smallest fraction,But you've never loved,nor anticipated.Every great passion is a work of fiction,when we long for something that we cannot find,Single thought of you is like an addiction,yet,you're not exalted,except in my mind.

Blame is a Defense Against PowerlessnessBetrayal trauma changes you. You have endured a life-altering shock, and are likely living with PTSD symptoms_ hypervigilance, flashbacks and bewilderment__ith broken trust, with the inability to cope with many situations, and with the complete shut down of parts of your mind, including your ability to focus and regulate your emotions.Nevertheless, if you are unable to recognize the higher purpose in your pain, to forgive and forget and move on, you clearly have chosen to be addicted to your pain and must enjoy playing the victim.And the worst is, we are only too ready to agree with this assessment! Trauma victims commonly blame themselves. Blaming oneself for the shame of being a victim is recognized by trauma specialists as a defense against the extreme powerlessness we feel in the wake of a traumatic event. Self-blame continues the illusion of control shock destroys, but prevents us from the necessary working through of the traumatic feelings and memories to heal and recover.

The devil is the most stubborn verisimilitude on earth!

Beware! Success is not what you think it is. It's a trap.

...for if a woman's body can attract the holy angels, how much more the unholy man.

THE DEVIL. As far as I went, yes. But I will now go further, and confess to you that men get tired of everything, of heaven no less than of hell; and that all history is nothing but a record of the oscillations of the world between these two extremes. An epoch is but a swing of the pendulum; and each generation thinks the world is progressing because it is always moving. But when you are as old as I am; when you have a thousand times wearied of heaven, like myself and the Commander, and a thousand times wearied of hell, as you are wearied now, you will no longer imagine that every swing from heaven to hell is an emancipation, every swing from hell to heaven an evolution. Where you now see reform, progress, fulfilment of upward tendency, continual ascent by Man on the stepping stones of his dead selves to higher things, you will see nothing but an infinite comedy of illusion....

Good becomes perfect, but perfect is an illusion. And illusions are like all spells__emporary and soon broken. And when that happens, feelings change.

One day it may feel as if energy and enthusiasm are quenched, feelings dried up and emotions scorched, love and affection tangled in a harsh and uninviting setting. Nothing seems to grow anymore. No seed. No flowers. No foreseeable hope. No conceivable prospects. Any blossom of expectation seems to have become an illusion and life appears to have come to a standstill. If no seed of loving care is sown in the untilled, abandoned land, no bud can come into flower. Singer Amy Winehouse felt like lying fallow in the ground of a wasteland "with tears dry, dying a hundred times, going back to black" and leaving eventually for a place of ultimate sorrow and heartbreak, for a point of no return. ( __mour en friche_ )

What we feel is a choice.

Illusory universality is the universality of the art of the culture industry, it is the universality of the homogeneous same, an art which no longer even promises happiness but only provides easy amusement as relief from labour.

Culture and collars had gone together, to him, and he had been deceived into believing that college educations and mastery were the same things.

Every culture that__ ever existed has operated under the illusion that it understood 95% of reality and that the other 5% would be delivered in the next 18 months, and from Egypt forward they__e been running around believing they had a perfect grip on things and yet we look back at every society that preceded us with great smugness at how naive they all were. Well, it never occurs to us, then, that maybe we__e whistling in the dark too! That the universe is stranger than you CAN suppose, and that that openness that that perception imparts is a great joy, a great blessing, because then you can live your life not in service to some fascistic metaphor but in service to the living mystery: the fact that you__e not going to understand it; it is not going to yield to logic; or magic; or any other technique that__ been developed_

Normality is an illusion, created by a conservative culture to control behaviour

As much as love is the source of power for those who are centred in their hearts, as much fear is the source of illusionary power for those who insist on being led by their heads alone.

When you're emotionally weak, but psychically smiling. When you want to be loved but can't be loved. When you try to feel special, but realize you're just one out of many. When you cry about every little obstacle and disappointment. But hey I'm fine

The Vitarags (attachment-free enlightened one__) say, __ake whatever intents that are suitable to you. If you get sensual intents towards Me, then do those sensual intents and if you have celibate intents towards Me, do celibate intents and if you get religious intents, do religious intents; if you get reverence-intents, do reverence intents and if you want to curse, then curse me. I confront [challenge] no one._ A person that doesn__ confront goes to Moksha and the person who confronts, resides here [worldly life bondage].

As long as one is ruled by illusion, one__ thinking process is also illusory and that is nothing but misery. In Gnanis_ [the enlightened one__] language, there is no such thing as happiness or unhappiness.

Philip thought that in throwing over the desire for happiness he was casting aside the last of his illusions. His life had seemed horrible when it was measured by its happiness, but now he seemed to gather strength as he realised that it might be measured by something else. Happiness mattered as little as pain. They came in, both of them, as all the other details of his life came in, to the elaboration of the design. He seemed for an instant to stand above the accidents of his existence, and he felt that they could not affect him again as they had done before. Whatever happened to him now would be one more motive to add to the complexity of the pattern, and when the end approached he would rejoice in its completion. It would be a work of art, and it would be none the less beautiful because he alone knew of its existence, and with his death it would at once cease to be.