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Wednesday, June 24, 2020

Hafiz - There are so many positions of Love!

artist unknown


 There are so many positions of Love!
Curved branches of sacred trees
Dancing through canopies of light...
Spring's orchestration of breezes
Floating through soft lilac nights,
Currents of stars sparking Passion
In Earth's celestial orbit,
The revolution of Existence's skirt
Whose folds contain unknown worlds...
Ten thousand different ways!
Eternal eyes gaze lovingly upon us
In which every sigh
Falls softly against The Beloved's
Inconceivable Omnipresent Breast



 

Monday, June 22, 2020

Bernadette Roberts - In the absence of self/The Silent Mind




The following is an excerpt from a biography self-written by Bernadette Roberts for the book Mystics, Masters, Saints and Sages by Robert Ullman and Judyth Reichenberg-Ullman.

The moment was unheralded, unrecognized, and unknown; it was the moment “I” entered a great silence and never returned. Beyond the threshold of the known, the door upon self was closed, but the door upon the Unknown was opened in a fixed gaze that could not look away. Impossible to see the self, to remember the self, or to be self-consciousness, the mind was restricted to the present moment. The more it tried to reflect back on itself, the more overpowering the silence.

By steadily gazing outward upon the Unknown, the silence abated and the emptiness of self became a joy. But the search for the still-point–God within–revealed not one emptiness, but two, for when there is no self, there is no Other; without a personal self there is no personal God–without a subject, there is no The still-point had vanished, and with its disappearance it took very sense of life the self possessed–a self which could no longer be felt to exist. What remained was not known. There was no life, no will, no energy, no feelings, no experiences, no within, no spiritual or psychic life. Yet, life was somewhere because all was as usual.

Though it could not be localized or found within any object of sight or mind, somewhere out-of-doors, life was flowing peacefully, assuredly. On a bluff above the sea, it revealed itself: life is not in anything; rather, all things are in life. The many are immersed in the One, even that which remains when there is no self, this too, is absorbed in the One. No longer a distance between self and the other, all is now known in the immediacy of this identity. Particulars dissolve into the One; individual objects give way to reveal that which is the same throughout all variety and multiplicity. To see this new dimension of life is the gift of amazing glasses through which God may be seen everywhere. Truly, God is all that exists–all, of course, but the self.



At one time, the Oneness grew to an overpowering intensity, as if drawing itself together from all parts, drawing inward and obliterating all that existed, including the eye that saw it and that which remained. At the threshold of extinction, the eye flickered and grew dim; instantly, that which remained, turned away. To bear the vision, to enter in, the light of the eye must not go out. Somehow it must become stronger, but what kind of strength is this and how could it be acquired? There was something still to be done, but what? No-self is helpless; it has no strength; it is not the light of the eye nor the eye itself.

Nine months passed before the eye upon Oneness became the eye upon nothingness. Without warning or reason, all particulars dissolved into emptiness. At one point, the mind came upon the hideous void of life, the insidious nothingness of death and decay strangling life from every object or sight. Only self can escape such a vision because only self knows fear, and only fear can generate the weapons of defense. Without a self, the only escape is no escape; the void must be faced–come what may. On the hillside, the epitome of all that is dreadful and insane was confronted–but who, or what beheld this terror? And who or what could endure it? In the absence of self, all that remained was an immovable stillness, an unbreakable, unfeeling silence. Would it move–crack open? Or would it hold? This could not be known, surmised, or even hoped for. What would be, would be.

~~~


 ~~~

 
~ From The Experience of No-Self: A Contemplative Journey. © 1993 Bernadette Roberts.

 I wish I understood the mechanism of self-consciousness, or how it is possible for the mind to bend back on itself, for if I did, I could more easily convey a better understanding of no-self and its most noticeable effect—the silent mind. But whatever this mechanism is, the state of no-self is the breaking up of a self-conscious system whereby the mind can no longer see itself as an object; and at the same time it loses the ability to find any other object to take its place, because when there is no self there is also no other.

I might add that the mind has never had the ability to see itself as a subject—this would be as impossible as the eye seeing itself; yet I think this very impossibility may be the clue to the type of consciousness that remains when consciousness without a knowable subject or object becomes the whole of it. This type of consciousness is not available to our ordinary way of knowing, and because it cannot be experienced or understood by the relative mind, it falls squarely into the realm of the unknown and the unknowable.

I used to believe that in order to know of the self's existence, it was not necessary for the mind to reflect back on itself—to make itself an object or to be self-conscious, that is; instead, I believed that the basic awareness of thoughts and feelings went right on, and was present whether I reflected on them or not. Now, however, I see this is not the way it works. I see this is an error, but an error it is only possible to realize once self-consciousness had come to an end. It seems that on an unconscious level this reflexive mechanism goes on so continuously, it makes no difference if we are aware of this mechanism on a conscious level or not. In turn, this means that when the mechanism is cut off, we not only lose awareness of the self—or the agent of consciousness on a conscious level—but we lose awareness of the self on an unconscious level as well. Stated more simply: when we can no longer verify or check back (reflect) on the subject of awareness, we lose consciousness of there being any subject of awareness at all. To one who remains self-conscious, of course, this seems impossible. To such a one, the subject of consciousness is so self-evident and logical, it needs no proof. But to the unself-conscious mind, no proof is possible.

The first question to be asked is whether or not self-consciousness is necessary for thinking, or if thinking goes right on without a thinker. My answer is that thinking can only arise in a self-conscious mind, which is obviously why the infant mentality cannot survive in an adult world. But once the mind is patterned and conditioned or brought to its full potential as a functioning mechanism, thinking goes right on without any need for a self-conscious mechanism. At the same time, however, it will be a different kind of thinking. Where before, thought had been a product of a reflecting introspective, objectifying mechanism—ever colored with personal feelings and biases—now thought arises spontaneously off the top of the head, and what is more, it arises in the now-moment which is concerned with the immediate present, making it invariably practical. This is undoubtedly a restrictive state of mind, but it is a blessed restrictiveness since the continual movement inward and outward, backward and forward in time, and in the service of feelings, personal projections, and all the rest, is an exhausting state that consumes an untold amount of energy that is otherwise left free.

What this means is that thinking goes right on even when there is no self, no thinker, and no self-consciousness; thus, there is no such thing as a totally silent mind—unless, of course, the mind or brain (which I view as synonymous) is physically dead. Certainly something remains when the mind dies, but this "something" has nothing to do with our notions or experiences of a mind, or of thought, or of ordinary awareness.

What I call a "silent mind," therefore, is a purely relative experience belonging to a self-conscious state wherein silence is relative to its absence, its opposite, or to some degree of mental quietude. But in a fully established non-relative state—which is non-experiential by ordinary standards—there are no longer the variations, degrees, or fluctuations that could be known as the silent mind. This does not mean we cannot pass beyond the mind to "that" which remains when the self-consciousness falls away, but it does mean that whatever lies beyond the mind has no such tool for its description.



~~~


~~~

 

 

The Cloud of Unknowing (2nd post)



Written around the year 1375,  The Cloud of Unknowing was written as a letter of advice to a young novice just setting out on the path of contemplation.  The author, believed to have been a country parson, writes in a personal, direct style, hoping to share his knowledge of contemplation with the young would-be monk.

  The theme of the Cloud of Unknowing is of turning one’s attention within, away from the mind and its objects. The attention is turned inward upon itself, and since it is now focused on nothing the mind can understand, sees only a ‘cloud of unknowing’, a seeming nothingness. For most seekers, this can be frustrating, if not impossible, for it gives no immediate reward, or even an object or image for their mind to grasp. To simply aim one’s attention at its own source is to look back up the ray of one’s awareness, where the mind and ego cannot go. This also takes the attention off of the body and its desires and fears, along with the senses and outer environment.


 For when you first begin to undertake it, all that you find is a darkness, a sort of cloud of unknowing; you cannot tell what it is, except that you experience in your will a simple reaching out to God [a naked intent unto God]. This darkness and cloud is always between you and your God, no matter what you do, and it prevents you from seeing him clearly by the light of understanding in your reason, and from experiencing him in sweetness of love in your affection.

 – You are to smite upon that thick cloud of unknowing with a sharp dart of longing love. -… no man can think of God himself. Therefore, it is my wish to leave everything that I can think of and choose for my love the thing that I cannot think. Because he can certainly be loved, but not thought. He can be taken and held by love but not by thought. – Cloud of Unknowing




The gift of The Cloud is its simple message of going beyond the mind. We cannot find our Source, or “God”, by thinking, or through worded thought, but only through what it calls love or longing. This may be called a vector, a direction we follow through our intuition, even after we have gone beyond our mind. It leads us into an uncharted realm, a cloud of unknowing in the back of beyond, where we lose our ‘self’. If we continue into this Great Unknown, guided by this longing, perhaps we will meet our Self,  and find we have been there all along.


.
For whoever hears or reads about all this, and thinks that it is fundamentally an activity of the mind, and proceeds then to work it all out along these lines, is on quite the wrong track. He manufactures an experience that is neither spiritual or physical. He is dangerously misled and in real peril. – Cloud of Unknowing



PDF 


 

Monday, June 15, 2020

Jeff Foster - The end of spirituality




My yoga mat has disappeared into the ground under my feet.

My ashram has become the coffee counter, a bad joke exchanged with the barista, a friendly smile creeping over a frozen face, and the whole world willing us along.

My temple is the shopping mall, the dentist’s waiting room, the empty meadow in the morning with its soft yellow light and virginal air.

My guru is the incubating roar in the belly, the melancholy of the evening and the hope and despair of raw existence itself.

Nothing needs to be added.

My enlightenment is the ordinary moment, this mundane experience drenched in the sweet nectar of my own attention.

My origin is the breath and the breath is my destination.

My lineage is the hungry cat greeting me on my evening walk, ambling beside me awhile, rubbing her fur against my shin, her fur soft like the cashmere blanket grandma used to wrap around us as the nights came in early, fur becoming skin, and the cat nonchalantly moving on to peruse a discarded sandwich wrapper, and me walking on.

My spirituality is deep in the earth; it is in the mud, the heat, the bowels, the awkward and the inconvenient, the cry for mother and the courage to penetrate unexplored regions of the psyche. It is the yearning for home and the happily exhausted return.

My bliss is nothing the mind could ever grasp, not in a billion years of searching.

My joy is simple, like those who have lived a full life and are ready to die.

I lie down in the meadow, my backpack my pillow, my hands entering into the silky, sticky grass, my entire life reduced to a single thought and memory and momentary vision, and then that is gone too, and I am gone with it all, replaced by the meadow itself, its soft yellow light and its clean invigorating air, its hope and its promise, its fullness and its mercy.

Do not look for me. You will not find me here, or recognise me if you do. I am invisible because I have become all that is seen and all that is known and unknown still.

I do not practise spirituality. I have been destroyed, deconstructed, de-boned and born again, reconstituted as man, formless as form. I have been recreated inseparable from this ordinariness, resurrected with the birds belly laughing on the electric wires at dawn.



 
 

Rumi - The story of Love can never be told.




When I calmed my mind
And entered my heart,
The Love of the Lord
Leapt like a flame within me.
All my old ideas and beliefs
Just blew away like chaff in the wind.
It wasn’t because of anything I am;
It wasn’t because of anything I did;
But only because of Him and His wild, miraculous, grace
That I learned at long last the lesson of Love.
My coming and going have ended;
My mind has melted in the Mind.
Don’t ask me to speak any more –
The story of Love can never be told.



Sufi stories PDF
 
 

Sunday, June 7, 2020

Longchenpa - Wild wood of inner calm

The Jesus Cave near Vashishta Guha in the Himalayas


 Even if you intellectually understand what things are in themselves,
if they linger on as objects of inspection
there is no benefit in such understanding.
In order to acquaint your intellect with what intrinsically matters,
you must go into the wild wood of inner calm.


 

Saturday, June 6, 2020

Mahmoud Shabistari - Reason/Free will



Reason

Let reason go. For his light
Burns reason up from head to foot.
If you wish to see that Face,
Seek another eye. The philosopher
With his two eyes sees double,
So is unable to see the unity of the Truth.
As his light burns up the angels,
Even so doth it consumes reason.
As the light of our eyes to the sun,
So is the light of reason 

to the Light of Lights.

~~~

Free will

You say, "I myself have Free-will,
For my body is the horse and my soul the rider,
The reins of the body are in the hands of the soul,
The entire direction is given to me."

Oh ! foolish one, these are falsehoods and delusions
That come from an illusory existence.

As your essence is nothingness,
How can you have Free-will ?
Seeing that your being is one with not-being,
Whence comes this Free-will of yours ?

Imagination distributes actions
As in a play or a farce,
For when your actions were planned,
Before your existence,
You were created for a certain purpose,
By the desire of the Truth.
Therefore is man predestined, before his existence,
To certain appointed work.
. . . (Oh, wondrous ways of Thine, without how or why I)

The honour of man consists of slavery,
In having no share of Free-will.

Of himself man has nothing,
Yet of good and evil God asks him,
Man has no choice, he is under control.
Oh ! poor soul, he seems free, yet is a slave.

Give yourself up to the Truth,
For you are helpless in his grasp ;
Freedom from self you will find in the All,
And, Dervish ! in the Truth you will find riches.


from The secret rose garden


Sunyata Emmanuel Sørensen - Silence is the one, eternal Reality

A sign "No visitors - Silence" every would-be
visitor would see near the gate of Sunyata's
home


Silence is the one, eternal Reality, which suffuses and sustains all the actual and temporary
manifestations in the divine Self interplay or Swalila. In his Gita, Sri Krishna sings, “Of the
mountains, I am the Himalaya and of the men of mystic wisdom, I am their Silence. Out from
the eternal Silence issues the Word made Flesh and Phenomena, and into Silence it all returns... With one fragment of myself, I projected all these universes: I remain.”

Sunya Silence is all-comprehending. It innerstands all forms and functions in the divine Maya Lila. It is a poor term symbol for the “ineffable experiencing.” It is the cessation of desires and of false identity with ego. “I”, “me” and “mine” are naughty word symbols in the Advaita mode of
experiencing. In the light of Self-controlled spontaneity, we are naturally fear-free, ego-free and
death-free. 


I was four times in the darshan of Sri Ramana Maharshi at Arunachala. His dynamic and integral
radiance is our living beacon of actual sahaj a samadhi. I asked no question and stated no problem in his presence. Like Dakshinamurti in earlier times, Sri Ramanaji taught us and his fellow rishis, chiefly in mature Silence, in natural, ego-free Self-radiance. Integral grace and inherent freeness radiated from the Maharshi’s pure consciousness. It is transmitted or awakened into, silently and effort-freely in a kind of empathy, according to our receptivity and our maturity. That which recognizes itself is within. The initiation into intuitive and conscious Self-awareness is often conveyed by a look, rarely by touch, and usually in pure Silence. 
It is for us to be ego-still and to attune to receive it.

This Shunya Silence, or advaita Self-experiencing, is essentially name-free and ineffable. Intuition
for the experience can be trained and purified, but assertion or trying to share or to explain is futile.
Words are metaphors and they falsify the Real. Names and labels hide the name-free, the invisible
Reality. Even our beliefs and ideals, concepts and abstractions, are hindrances to the authentic,
integral Self-experiencing in non-dual awareness. Can we be inwardly still to reflect purely? Can we, in graceful empathy, recognize and be our Self in the Silence of fellow pilgrims? Can we experience our Self at joyous ease and in the anandful grace of natural spirituality?

In the light of Self-controlled spontaneity, all our questions and our quest ceases, or ceases to
matter. Ego oblivion is Self-awareness. In ego transcendence, we experience that we are more than
human, more than fussy, fearful and mortal egojies. 
We experience that there is no death of the Real— that we ever are.

Resuming our dharmic interplay in actualities after such advaita experiencing, we are naturally
fear-free and ego-free in tune with our unitive Self—everywhere. In Shunya Silence, we can meet and merge time-freely and ego-freely. This is empathy and karuna grace and gratitude. 
All is well 





 “In this life play I have not
been in quest of Guru, God,
Truth, Grace, Salvation, nivana,
or power lust. I had no ambition
to be different from what I
am. Blessedly, I had escaped
headucation, and I was free
of any imposed knowledge.
I had no property. I did not
marry, I did not belong to any
cliques or creed. I felt all is
within our Self. I had nothing
to assert or resent. Nor had
I anything to boast about or
regret. I was fully contented.
I had joy in ‘that which is” 

~~~~~

 

Full text of "Sunyata Dancing With The Void

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 Sunyata – The typewritten manuscripts 

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Nectar of Sunyata