Thursday, 29 January 2009

The Seeker Hides What Is Sought.

It seemed that before this energetic change of perception happened, there was an imperative not to feel anything even remotely unpleasant. Addiction is the most rampant form of seeking. There is a seeking to change what is happening, to change what the feelings happen to be, almost no matter what they are. Whatever feelings arise, there's a feverish gripping need to change them. If they are "bad", if they are regret or sadness or fear (especially fear), they must be changed. If they are "good", they could be even better, and held onto. Whatever was, was not enough. Whatever was, was not good enough. Whatever was, was mine to change. Now there is no need to change. Not only is there not a need, there is no one to change it. Yet everything carries on. It only ever did. This is not some bright and shiny enlightenment, coupled with great serenity and pervasive wisdom. This is just simple, ordinary being, unfettered by any need to claim it. There is no one who could claim it anyway. In this, it sometimes seems that "me-ing" still happens, that "I" long, "I" want, "I" need to be loved or validated or comforted. Yet there is very little for these arisings to stick to. They slide away, another apparent feeling in this, this that is all. Pain may come, but suffering doesn't need to. It was only the dreamed self that suffered in her separation. There is no way to really describe this, it is just what's happening, seen for the beauty that it all is, with little doubt or judgement. There is no one who needs to get this. Those who long, who work, who strive to make their life and world a better circumstance, their seeking is what veils what is sought. When the seeker dies, there is the fullness of life that was always there, even in the seeking of it. Even in the feverish need to change what is, there is simply what is. There is no point to it. That is life's great beauty.


Anonymous said...

Cogent and colourful as always. How nice to be disturbed like this.

Good to know that nothing will come from nothing. King Lear knew waht he was talking abouot, then.

See the self is feminine here. Gender still holding sway in the ground of unity. Which is pretty neat.

No One In Particular said...

There is the appearance of gender. There is the appearance of a lot of things. Loads. Scads, in fact. A surfeit, a plethora, a profusion, a massive churning tidal wave of STUFF. Yet it is all nothing being something. Totally cool.

Hysterical Boredom said...

Have a good look -- stop the breath, peel off the skin, and everybody ends up looking the same. No matter how long you live the result is not altered (even for emperors). Cast off the notion that "I exist". Entrust yourself to the wind-blown clouds, and do not wish to live forever. -Ikkyu