Saturday, 9 May 2009
To Sue To Live, I Find I Seek To Die; And, Seeking Death, Find Life: Let It Come On.
There is very little to write that hasn't been written before about this. Reading about it isn't the message; writing about beingness isn't beingness, yet it is. There's no words that can communicate this, or bring about some moment of enlightenment when "everything changes". Advaita Classic adherents (apparent) will tell you that if any vestige of the ego remains, enlightenment is not possible. Yet whatever seems to come up is just as it should be. Whatever the seeming appearance, that is what is. The Advaita police will say that every word that is written has been written before, and is meaningless; and continuing to write about what is not a concept or a feeling or an experience is hopelessly futile. Perhaps, but what is wrong with hopeless futility? Whatever seems to happen, no matter how navel-gazing, no matter how ironic or paradoxical, is simply what seems to happen. No matter if this is seen or not, or if it is seen, incongruous thoughts and feelings and apparent experiences arise; this is it, no matter what, exactly as it is. There could not be anything "wrong", or "right" for that matter. The Advaita police (nothing wrong with them either) will whine a bit about spending ungodly amounts of apparent time practicing yoga and clearing the mind and dissolving ego concerns, and probably feel miffed that this seems to happen spontaneously for some dreamers, who never worked hard at being enlightened. It's all just more interesting stories - it doesn't matter what seems to be happening at all - but to answer those who have worked so hard, consider that life itself, however it was presented, may be sufficient practice. The disciplines honed with a gifted guru can also be gleaned from the circumstances of life, especially if they are apparently extremely challenging. But there is no formula to this. There is no right way. There is no wrong way. There are no millenia, no past rolling behind us, filled with the lineage of properly qualified gurus or teachers. There is the spark of memory of what was apparently learned, and the spark of memory of learning it. There is no inspiring teacher, or ready student; there are those characters. There is no time for these supposed events and profound experiences to have unfolded in. There is no karma, or past lives; there is memory of learning of such things, or memory of leading other lives. Just a memory, a thought, an image, and that is all. There is what is. This. Whatever it seems.