…
I am caught in the crosshairs: At the still-point of being, where the wondrous ever-presence of that-which-can’t-be-lost and the streaming sadness of my losses intersect. And cannot be torn apart.
It mystifies me that some speak of ‘Awareness’ as something separate from what it ‘awares’, or of ‘Knowing’ as separate from its ‘knowns’. As though one can step out of consciousness and still be conscious…
The idea-lisation of some kind of primary state – Atman, Godhead, Emptiness, Creation – that somehow exists apart from the activity of my experience, turned out to be a monstrous red herring. I muse that it might be the most unholy black joke, the ultimate conspiracy of misinformation that humanity has dreamed up. But what do I know?
This: Primordial* Awareness is inseparable from both the capacity to be aware, and whatever activity it is awareing. It’s also inseparable from the space in which the entire show appears. I can’t face it. I can’t escape it. Imagine the relief of realising there’s no way out and nothing to escape.
Please check it out for yourself.
Mark Nepo expresses this seamless interaction exquisitely in his poem, ‘Adrift’
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ADRIFT
Everything is beautiful and I am so sad.
This is how the heart makes a duet of
wonder and grief. The light spraying
through the lace of the fern is as delicate
as the fibers of memory forming their web
around the knot in my throat. The breeze
makes the birds move from branch to branch
as this ache makes me look for those I’ve lost
in the next room, in the next song, in the laugh
of the next stranger. In the very center, under
it all, what we have that no one can take
away and all that we’ve lost face each other.
It is there that I’m adrift, feeling punctured
by a holiness that exists inside everything.
I am so sad and everything is beautiful.
.
Art by Sydney-based computational artist Danielle Navarro
* Primordial comes from the Latin words primus, ‘first’ and ordiri, ‘to begin’.
When something is described as being primordial, it means it has existed since time was invented. No wonder I feel weary.
.
this unlit light 