I watch me appear; I watch me disappear

 

I am never absent, I cannot be escaped
I watch me appear, I watch me disappear

I am unaffected, I have no preference
I watch me appear, I watch me disappear

Forget ‘Big Brother’ and CCTV:
there’s an eye there is no hiding from
and it’s known as “I” to me.

It prowls this world of dream and drama
ceaselessly scoping the cosmos and all creation:
macroscopic, microscopic and myopic too,
the outer worlds and inner…

Eyes wide open, eyes shut tight
I can never escape its unlit light.

I am unmoved, I am all movement
I watch me appear, I watch me disappear

I am never absent, I cannot be escaped
I watch me appear, I watch me disappear

– miriam louisa

I watch me appear; I watch me disappear
 

Beloved Gangaji writes:

At a certain point, a couple of years after [the disappearance of the ‘me’ as separate entity], I was aware of a sense of myself as a person starting to slowly return.  And I thought, “Oh, no, what does this mean?” because at that point I had been counseling people not to reconstruct themselves after this kind of experience.  There was a moment of wondering if this sense of myself meant I had lost anything, but by then I knew enough to check and see.  When I did, I saw clearly that the truth that needs no scaffolding was not bothered by any sense or perception of myself as being this human animal, this body-mind configuration.  Silent conscious awareness was not bothered by any disappearance of the sense of this form and not bothered by its reappearance.

The fact that the sense of me as form reappeared was actually a teaching for me because it threw me into profound inquiry.  And in that inquiry I saw that this sense of being a separate entity appears and disappears all the time, even in a day—for everyone.  It’s just that until we have an experience of it disappearing, and then discovering the true “I” to still be present, only then do we have the possibility of recognizing that the disappearance or the reappearance doesn’t really touch the unmoving truth.

It was at this point I felt myself reincarnating as an ordinary human being.  I didn’t fight the ordinariness coming back, because I was always aware that whatever came back—an emotion, a sense of me, a negative thought, etc.—it didn’t touch what had been revealed…

To this day, I can say that from that moment there has been no lack of resolution and fulfillment.  There have been negative states as well as positive.  There has been grief as well as joy.  There have been trials and there have been defeats, but nothing has dislodged the certainty that who I am includes all.

© Gangaji, 2012
[My emphasis.]
Source:  http://www.onethemagazine.com/blog/2012/10/12/answer-to-a-prayer/

Image source:  Rumi on facebook

the metamorphosis of the me

If this “me” is not afraid of losing itself,

of no longer having anywhere to lay its head,

in short, when, pushed by the magnificent dynamism of doubt,

it is not afraid of disassociating itself from everything;

of rejecting its old associations,

and rejecting the new snares laid by the objects of the world in order to bind it to them;

of destroying the new entity which is being rebuilt on the ruins of the crumbling entity,

when this “me”, transformed into an incandescent torch

mercilessly burns all that is itself then one day,

becoming supremely conscious and no longer finding anything with which to associate,

that which remains of it leaps all together into the eternal flame which consumes all,

except the Eternal,

and being dead as an entity,

it is nothing but life.

~ Carlo Giuseppe Suarès
La Comédie Psychologique

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mutation of the me


Image source: Au bout de la route blog
[If you can read French you’ll find this link very interesting – it’s a conversation between Suarès and J Krishnamurti.]

this free-falling foolishness

Black Hole

apropos of nothing
and completely uninvited
You came
and offered Your card

a most unusual calling card, thought
I, curious, attracted to its shimmer
like a magpie
to a bright thing

I reached, I grabbed, I looked
into its mirror sheen and that’s when
the piece called “me” popped
out of the jigsaw puzzle

lost its grip, back-flipped
(most unladylike: toes over head)
floated down a yawning wombhole:
dark light, dark light

and the little blip that’s broadcast
by beings – the one that positions a mebody
in time and space – became fainter and fainter and
finally faded out

leaving just this free-falling foolishness,
this cascading chortling laughter;
this trackless trace
of The Great Fool

~

image source

~

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nothing ever dies but a dream

I’m celebrating an anniversary this morning. Three years ago the dream had a daughter holding her beloved mother as she breathed the breath that would never return.

I’m also celebrating because, for the first time in those three years, the pain has vanished. The passage of time is a great healer, as is the time spent silently aware-ing on the zafu.  But I also honor the beloved mentors who have appeared in the story, their healing tools in hand. They are many, but I particularly want to thank: A kind, wise Lama, who sent me away on a retreat to find “the mother” I mourned. And a dear, dear woman whose energy healing (EFT) triggered the release of volumes of stories held in this body’s cellular vaults. And – Byron Katie. The work of the Work leaves no lie uncovered, and o-m-g some monster furphies were happily beavering away in this wee dream called ‘me’. One of them, running below the limn of  consciousness in spite of intellectual clarity about and acceptance of impermanence and the impossibility of independent self-hood, was a subtle and sneaky belief in death.

Nothing was ever born but a dream.
Nothing ever dies but a dream.

Reality is the always-stable, never-disappointing base of experience.
When I look at what really is, I can’t find a me.
As I have no identity, there’s no one to resist death.
Death is everything that has been dreamed,
including the dream of myself,
so at every moment I die of what has been
and am continually born as awareness in the moment,
and I die of that, and am born in it again.
The thought of death excites me.
Everyone loves a good novel and looks forward to how it will end.
It’s not personal.
After the death of the body, what identification will the mind take on?
The dream is over, I was perfection,
I could not have had a better life.
And whatever I am is born in this moment
as everything good that has ever lived.
~ Byron Katie

One dream ends. And here’s the beauty of it – this unlit light | reality | primordial awareness – abides, even as new dreams appear.

And I can hear her l a u g h t e r . . .

Gladness! Gratitude! Grace!

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oh joy!

Tarchin Hearn, poet, writer and Dharma teacher, sums up The Great Perfection:

.

Oh Joy!

Hearing is knowing.

Seeing is knowing.

Feeling is knowing.

Comparing is knowing.

Remembering is knowing.

Imagining is knowing.

Reflecting is knowing.

Worrying is knowing.

Hoping is knowing.

Pushing is knowing.

Pulling is knowing.

Eating is knowing.

Digesting is knowing.

Raining is knowing.

Rivering is knowing.

Mountaining is knowing.

Oceaning is knowing.

 .

Strange to see but all this knowing

draws a needed knower

And so,

Creative beings,

we make one! A terrifying fiction!

A singularity knowing everything else.

A me!  Alive and intelligent

renders all the rest as object.

While plural knowing is all around,

a fusion of awesome complexity,

a seeming con-fusion,

Resting, nowfully, here

~ Tarchin Hearn

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you can’t have your cake and eat it too!

a solid separate ‘me’ cannot be found
yet this boundless expression of the unknown still wears my name
and this unlit light illumines a world
unique to the experience of this mindstream called mine

the me I took myself to be
vaporized in an instant yet nothing happened to ‘I’
‘I’ shines as it always has – perhaps more
clearly now that the drapes have been drawn back

it’s a mistake to think
that the vast View of world-as-self means that
some super-human person is viewing it thus –
unobstructed Awareness is simply viewing Itself

it’s a mistake to think
at all, actually,
if the View is one’s objective:
thinking will ensure It stays enshrined as an object

and we all know that an object is just a story
either you get the story
or you get the View –
you can’t have your cake and eat it too!

 

– miriam louisa


 

the Presence of the absence of ‘me’

58

creativity
humility
heaven
peace
trust
love
joy

.

seven words attempting to describe one thing

a thing that can never be an object,
and therefore, can never be described

how then can It be found?

it can’t – it’s never been lost!

seven words all amounting to the same no-thing:

the Presence of the absence of ‘me’

.

~ miriam louisa
echoes from emptiness

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