It seems as simple as seemingly two concurrent and complementary processes: Unselfing and Recollecting Wholeness. Unselfing has to do with becoming aware of the mental mechanics that only appear to create a separate self,
and recollecting wholeness is becoming aware of what is, in the absence of that mechanism.
Thereby, unselfing facilitates and obviates the recollecting of wholeness; abiding as that wholeness, facilitates that unselfing, as an effortless and natural occurrence.
There’s no place for an objective state called enlightenment in that description. It’s irrelevant in the organic unfoldment of what is, or what isn’t.
Something falls away; something is thus rediscovered.
What remains after wind, water, and fire work their magic?
“The Great Way is not difficult,
for those who have no preferences.”
~ Hsin Hsin Ming, by Seng T’san
Summer is the substance of things hoped for; winter, the evidence of things not seen.
So that what is seen in summer is not made out of things which are visible, but out of what is invisible in winter.
This morning, seeing the spider webs glistening, the ants everywhere, busy–the flowers still blooming, the dog sleeping, breathing, chest rising and falling.
Last night, the spider crawling on my arm. It was felt before it was seen.
I am in the web. Not caught, but weaving.
The head moves,
What other world exists,
In this economy of interjection?
A symphony, perhaps.
What is paid attention is what is noticed. “Notice” is derived from gnosis. What is noticed is what is known. What is known is what is, is what you are. To know is to be, I am. Why attend to “the problem,” when the whole world shows its perfection? We have only to pay attention, to notice.
If only there were something I could tell you,
That you don’t already know.
Like in the night we lie awake in a tent in the backyard,
Flashlights towards our faces.
We pretend to be scared, but giggle instead,
While parents sleep, in a room.
We are out there with the crickets and stars,
Sounds and brights fill up the space.
We are children in a wild short night of summer,
Tentatively committed to losing…this.
That’s what we tell each other in that airy encampment,
Pinky-swear we will never forget.
We imagine boys, girls, cars, the Beatles, and houses with sticky children,
And scrunch up our faces, like grandmas look.
Till we fall asleep, somehow, between the hoots of an owl,
And dream of a time before Adam’s silly rib.
Someone, maybe a kind but unruly God, or the Owl Himself,
Puts the little rib back where it belongs.
Though we sleep, we never really lose ourselves this night in Gemini,
My twin. We have a deal! To remember.
You are always a terrible liar, but a great pretender,
And promises we keep, with imaginary friends.
Remind me of this starry night where we make it all up,
Never-ending, as per our agreement.
Together, we are back in that night of freedom and audacious crickets,
Where we imagine, to make a world out there.
You tell me; did we ever? Were we ever?
The intent of these videos is to change the mind, shift the attention, towards the peace and freedom that is here, always, inherent as the true nature of this that you are. May your eyes turn toward the ineffable joy, win your heart and engage your fullest attention.
Music by JC Lemay. You can find more at deepsound.net.
Thanks for watching.
In a prior post, I wrote, the “seeing becomes the teaching,” meaning that what is experienced goes beyond any teaching. Experience here, is the thing–not the context, the words, the method, or the framework. We can read Wu Hsin, the Bible, Adyashanti, Nisargadatta, or any contemporary teacher, and what we have is context, the shell around the kernel. All of this, as experienced, is outside of and in many ways, limited by, context.
What is the experience of watching a radiant sunset? Of spending time in play and foolishness with children? Of reading a finely-crafted poem? The intoxicating smell of lilacs? These are the true pointers. In fact, they are not even pointers, but the experience of–what seems to be something other than self, but is nothing but Self, knowing ItSelf.
Words may point to this, but too often the mind, or the me gets involved, a context is created and appended to, and the experience is overlooked. The experience of knowing the words, not understanding, but being in that place where something is touched, where any sense of division falls away, if only for the moment: Seek no further. Continue reading