Wednesday, 18 March 2009

Nothing Is Better.

There are no deals, in fact there is no one who can make a deal anyway; but the dreamer cannot make deals with oneness. When the dream of separation dissolves, as it can any "moment", there are no guarantees that everything gets "better". It may seem to unfold more efficiently, since there is not the extra added "me" trying to control and understand and make right choices and accept and reject and generally make a mess of it; but there is the same appearance of the usual mind/body organism, the same old human character, with all the same apparent memories and conditioning, and things go on pretty much as they always did. When this is seen, it is also seen that that's all that ever happened anyway. Even in the many parables, the stories we tell and the stories we live, freedom is not always the fantastic thing it's cracked up to be. But to see this - that all there is, is this - is liberation. It is unlikely, in the story that seems to unfold "after" this is seen, that there is so much concern about getting everything right. There is no one to get it right. It is right. It is what it is. What is seen is that what happens is eternal and wondrous, and a fragile appearance, yet a fantastic and fascinating one. Perhaps it's likely that there's less despair, less hand-wringing, and less yearning for what is missing. There is nothing missing. The apparent reality, filled with politicians and hunger and suffering and joy and birth and charity, is a mere appearance, and is appearing as it must. No one owns it. There is no choice at any level. It is gloriously and divinely this.


phigs said...


I discovered your blog just now after writing this..
( was googling
" nothing is, there is only becoming " )

this immediate splendor

any attempt the same
in this
field of becoming

any known thing
elaborate self foolery echoing in the resonant pool of space

all effort to form this into particular meaning
the shimmer of some concentration
arriving and gone

ciao, patrico

No One In Particular said...

Hi Phigs,

Poetry sometimes arises. It's just as meaningless as anything else, but beautiful. Or shockingly mediocre, and I'm talking about "my" poetry not "yours"!

I notice you've not added to your blogs since 2005. And that you're Canadian. So this apparently happens to Canadians too, eh? I'm surprised. I'm teasing you, there's apparently a joke in my household that I dislike Canadians, and blame them for everything in the spirit of the Southpark Movie. But I don't really. Nothing wrong with Canadians either! They muddle along fantastically well considering they have no national identity. As Canadian as...??!??!. (Again, joking.)

I am honoured you spent so much time perusing my blog, which is getting repetitive now. It's amazing how many ways there are to say "all there is, is this."

You have a good one.