Sunday, 15 March 2009

There Is No Story.

Despite all that seems to happen, there is no story. There is no time in which a story can unfold. We seem to be creatures of linear time, learning from our mistakes (or not), waxing nostalgic for a past where things seemed better, or yearning for a future when this contingency or that expediency will happen, and life will, at last, be happier. We crawl into the memories that arise or the speculation of the future and think that it proves that things have, indeed, happened before, and things will, absolutely, happen again. There are cartloads of regret for things done wrong, and barrels of planning for doing the next right thing. Yet all there ever is, is this. This is all we ever have, all we ever are. The timeless void that is this - not now, for now suggests then - is all there is. Perhaps it can be labeled presence. All is presence, whatever form it seems to take. Even if there is a sense of separation, you live in boundless infinite light. The sense of separation only hides it, it doesn't destroy it; this is eternal being, it is all there is. The dropping away of a separate person - which is, after all, only a fragile concept - simply reveals what has always been there, what always is, what is. It doesn't change what appears to happen, but what appears to happen is seen for what it is. Boundless, changeless being. You don't have to do a thing. Here it is. If there is still some sense of being apart, it doesn't matter, for that is just as it must be. For goodness' sake, enjoy it. Just relax and be. Everything will still appear to go on without you just fine.


Anonymous said...

very clear

where does 'this' all come from?
and where does it all go?

don't tell me they're ideas, right?



No One In Particular said...

There is no end, or beginning. This doesn't "go" anywhere, or "come" "from" anywhere. It simply is. There is only aliveness, or consciousness, or absolute awareness, or whatever it is we're labeling it today. Boundless, timeless being. I can give it a go describing it, but it is indescribable; it is, in fact, not a concept, or an idea, or a feeling, or a "state of being". "You" can never get there; "you" are already there. Coming and going infer time, which does not exist; time is just an idea. This is. The apparent complexity and beauty and ugliness of the manifestation we're all so busy trying to understand and make work is really all the same thing, looking and feeling different. There is nowhere to go, and no one to get there. This is it. It is blindingly obvious, but totally elusive to the seeker. The seeker hides it by seeking; yet the seeker is also being, seeking. I'm sorry the answer to your poignant question seems such a load of gobbledygook. Such is the nature of oneness. Oneness is also the idea of coming and going, appearing as coming and going. Your question is being, questioning. This is it. There is nothing else. No beginning, no ending, just this.