When you’ve glimpsed what you really are…how do you explain to another person who passionately wants that glimpse?
During the times I’ve felt most awake words seem ridiculous. To write a single thought seems impossible. Nothing could articulate “this-ness”. To even begin to summarize places one squarely back in the world of dream, of imagination.
Whatever one says is empty. Empty of truth, empty of reality. Buddha insisted even the Dharma–the sacred teachings–were empty.
Putting anything in concepts and beliefs and thoughts somehow feels like sand falling through open fingers.
And yet, what do you say to someone suffering, someone passionately wanting that glimpse of awakeness?
What do you say to yourself who so wanted that knowing, who sometimes wants it still?
Some people counsel: Do nothing. You are already awake. Any doing will take you further from your goal.
Other people counsel: Meditate. Dance awake the dream. Inquire. Do something or you will remain in the fog of not quite realizing who you are.
If I had done nothing, I would still be asleep in the fog of conditioning without even a glimpse of what lies all around. However, it’s a tricky doing that one does. One really undoes. One does a hell of a lot of not-doing to awaken to what one already is.
I am still undoing in every awake moment.
How does one undo? How does one unwrap one’s conditioning? Possibly one witnesses, again and again and again. One witnesses clearly, without adding a story. It’s the story that binds us to identification. It’s the story of our lives which lullabies us to sleep.
One witnesses and one recapitulates. One looks at a very deep level at every single energy-bound event in one’s life and lets go. One releases endlessly. One notices when one reacts, bristles, pains, goes numb. One follows each reaction to its source, over and over again.
A person inquires deeply, so deeply that inquiry reaches the bone and gristle. One inquires to find the Truth, to discover the undiscoverable “I” which causes such suffering. One inquires as every thought rises so sure and seemingly true, cutting through the rising with the knife of truth, the Holy Grail.
There exist a thousand ways to undo oneself, to find out the ground which exists before the first story arose to create an identification with self.
At the base of the undoing is the entire world. It’s alive and constantly changing and thinking and feeling and moving and dancing. It’s sweet and painful and blissful and annoying. It’s everything it always was.
Except. One isn’t identified with it. Annoyance arises–if it arises–and it has nothing to do with a creature called “me”. Sweetness might arise and it’s nothing to do with an “I”. Sourness arises and it’s nothing to do with a solid personality, a hefty self.
As the small self gives way through the undoing gift of grace what rises in its stead?
The entire world arises. It’s everything and nothing. You are everything and nothing. Silly words will never capture the essence of this.
Life adores the stories humans create! How could Life not? Life adores everything because that’s what Life is. Take away any atom that exists and it’s not what you are.
But how can you write these words? How can you use words as pointers without someone grabbing them hard and making them into absolute truths?
When you’ve glimpsed what you really are…how do you explain to another person who passionately wants that glimpse? How do you explain without failing?
I’m not sure it’s possible. But the secret is–who is failing? Who fails to explain and who fails to understand?
Who tries–or doesn’t try–anyway?
Only Life itself, dancing itself awake…or celebrating itself in another story…another amazing creation.