the ‘me’ that I have always loved

The end of becoming is knowing that you never could, and never have, become anything in the first place other than what you already are.  And what you already are has never been subject to becoming ever.

When the Gordian knot of ignorance (taking my self to be the body/mind) slips apart, then I see, Wow!  This existence consciousness which I am, never becomes, never changes, is ever the same, and it is the most wonderful constant ‘me’ that I have always loved in every changing moment.

It is what I always wanted to be!  And what I always wanted to be, I am!  Amazing!

There is nothing that I can do to become my self, because I am already my self, and the recognition of that is called freedom!

~ Durga

self portrait

38

‘I’ has no body;
the ten thousand things
and the ten thousand no-things
these are the skin ‘I’ wears

‘I’ has no mind;
direct seeing is its mental modality
intelligence flows from its well-spring
action is choiceless and free

‘I’ has no parents;
existence is its family tree,
breathtide its bridge to hallowed homeland
and Itself its sustenance

‘I’ has no history;
childhood and adulthood
yesterday and tomorrow –
all rest in its momentary eternity

‘I’ owns no experience;
no sorrow, no happiness, no hatred
no bliss, no blame, no freedom or burden
neither ignorance nor awakening

‘I’ is ever-innocent awareness
shining, shining as perfect presence

‘I’ is now!

‘I’ is this!

‘I’ is here!
 
– miriam louisa
(with a deep bow to a certain samurai warrior)
echoes from emptiness
 

a naked lie

I sit on my cushion holding a burning question:  What do I know that I can assert is real and true and beyond question? 

My brain is packed with knowledge: records of every incident and feeling from the past – including a constantly updated commentary; imaginings about what will come to pass, along with a mixed bag of emotional preferences and aversions.  I can’t claim any of this to be true – how can anything that constantly changes be true? 

There’s another brain category that fails my test for truthfulness: conclusions.  Conclusions are beliefs concretized, non-negotiable.  Conclusions about my everunderconstruction self.  Conclusions about my life and how it should really be.  Conclusions about the meaning and purpose of it all.  Conclusions about God and Creation and the sacred. 

I know lots of stories about all manner of things, and I acknowledge that they are only the current version of complex commentaries.  But I only know one thing for sure, and it’s not an ‘about’. 

It’s this:  Something exists here on this cushion.  Something is alive here.  Something is being breathed here.  Something senses Life here.  I refer to it as ‘I’, but I cannot claim possession of it.  It is just this.  Now.  Here. 

This is what I can call real and true.  It passes my test.  It has never changed one iota in this lengthening lifetime.  It can’t be fragmented, measured, observed, described or denied.  All that I call ‘existence’ appears within it, and cannot be separated from it.  There are no words about it that are true.  So I will tell a naked lie, and call it this unlit light.