As I am sitting at my computer writing these words, I become aware of the sensation of thirst. Simultaneously comes the thought, "A cup of tea would be nice." This all happens spontaneously without me first deciding to be thirsty and then to think of tea. If you watch your mind, you will see that thoughts arise of their own accord. Please, do not simply accept or reject this. When you honestly observe and investigate, it will become clear that you are not the thinker of your thoughts. What this chapter will try to show is that you are also not the doer of your deeds. This may go against your deepest convictions and beliefs, so I ask you to suspend the judgment that may come up as a reflex and see what is really being offered here. All apparent decisions and choices are thoughts. To act upon a thought feels like choice and is labeled choice by the language, but choice is really just the expression of whatever thought arises most predominantly. I did not choose my desire for tea, nor did I choose the stronger desire that I should finish the paragraph first, but that is what is spontaneously happening. This is not to say that I am an apparatus without free will. There is actually no individual here to be deprived of free will. The thought of "I" and the thoughts of tea and typing merely unfold as a manifestation of the animating energy of Pure Awareness. From this perspective, there is a sense that life is simply living, thinking, and acting through you and as you. The Taoists call this Wu Wei, which loosely translates as non-doing. This does not mean doing nothing in the sense of inertia, but rather that everything -including "your" thoughts and actions- is happening naturally and of its own accord. Lao Tsu describes it in the Tao Te Ching as follows: Tao, without doing anything, Leaves nothing undone And again: Less and less is done, Till only non-action remains. Nothing is done, yet nothing is left undone. In Buddha's words: Suffering exists, but none who suffer, The deed there is, but no doer thereof. We all know the feeling of being in the flow of things. At such times, we lose ourselves in our activity. Writers frequently have this experience when the words seem to simply pour onto the page and they have no idea what the next line is going to be until they write it. Most athletes also have moments when suddenly everything clicks and they manage to perform beyond their normal capacity. There are sometimes moments during lovemaking when lovers melt into a union that knows no separate individuality. Or what about narrowly averted accidents on the highway where you later wonder just who was steering the car? I'm sure if you think about it, you have had several such experiences in which you forgot yourself and everything seemed to magically fall into place. This forgetfulness is very different from forgetting your friend's birthday or where you put your glasses. Nor is it like the absentmindedness induced by too much booze or too many tranquilizers. It is a forgetfulness that is alert and alive. This losing oneself in the flow is a taste of what is meant by "the action of non-action." All works are being done by the Gunas (or the energy and power) of nature, but due to delusion of ego, people assume themselves to be the doer. Although being in the flow feels wonderful, the idea of our actions happening by themselves instead of through our free will can be upsetting. This is especially true for the western mind, which tends to view free will as either an inherent quality of one's prized individuality or a gift/test from God to see if one is strong enough to do the right thing. For the atheist, his doing or failing to do the right thing may be a measure of his true character; for the religious person there is a lot more at stake, since for him it determines the quality of his after-life. From the free-will point of view, the idea that something is living through us can be quite objectionable. It seems to reduce us to mere marionettes, implying a helplessness, which is hard to accept. Furthermore, there arises a fear that if nothing we do is truly our own action, then people have an excuse for undesirable behavior. What is overlooked in such arguments is that all activity is of the one Self, appearing as the multiplicity of characters that apparently do the thinking, acting, and choosing. To excuse our undesirable behavior on these grounds does not work, for there will still be consequences. You may protest that the thought that led you to steal from your employer simply arose, and you are not responsible; but then neither is your employer responsible for the thought that led him to fire you and press charges. Ultimately, since the ego is an illusion, it cannot be deprived of free will nor can it be the victim of predestination. The ego is neither the doer nor the non-doer; It simply does not have an existence independent of the Self, any more than a character in a novel exists independently of the author who portrays him. He and all other characters in the story arise from the imagination of the writer.
a field, transparent expanse no inside, no outside no boundary through all things underneath all things before all things from which all things arise - just movement rising and falling
no agitation no naming no reference - one thing to another nothing is object and no attributes thus nothing strikes - one thing against the other no agitation
It is peace, utter peace 'the peace that passeth understanding' the words 'peace' and 'calm' are limp slivers of linguistic conceit they cannot transmit this knowing
HOME of pure freedom all-embracing no me - no past, no identity - completely unbound immersed merged dissolved no-longer only awareness deep unfathomable peace
just the gift that always is Reality's Self
emerging through the door of this transcendent HOME one last kiss and wave off: "this is The Stillness. people live in this Stillness" a respectful, gentle invitation ... with a dash of humour, like ... 'you might like to give this a try ... there's nothing stopping you' (nudge, nudge)
a white liquid light poured through the head into the crevices of the brain down into the body filling every vibrating molecule with exquisite sweetness scintillating divine light nectar of which I had never known before nourishing this material form. A loving embrace - divine LIGHT pouring itself into 'me' Every part of this body responded with delight and fell asleep.
Last night I walked the streets of Oxford with Kabir The night before it was Jesus And the night before, Rumi visited, uninvited!
Every night a different companion but always the same Friend Why go anywhere when the Beloved always comes to you?
I pointed out the smiling houses to Kabir (Have you noticed that houses have a face?) ‘It is I who am smiling’, he said.
‘I am happy to see you’, I said to Atmananda the next night ‘You are happiness itself’, he replied.
I stood outside a chapel And listened to a choir with Brother Lawrence ‘Our love for God is God’s love for us’, he said.
And the next night, Meister Eckhart, ‘There is a huge silence inside each of us That beckons us into itself’ ‘Know nothing’, Socrates said the following night ‘Be everything’, added Parmenides.
I showed Plotinus the gardens But he said, ‘I see only one thing’ I talked with the Buddha But he remained silent I was silent with Moses But he started to sing
I uttered the word ‘I’ But Balyani held his hand to my mouth I asked Huang Po if he could hear the stream ‘There is only the hearing’, he said.
I found William Blake naked in the park ‘Do you see how, through perception, the infinite gives birth to itself?’ he asked
‘He’s right’, Ramana said, ‘The universe is born every moment Through the portal I Am’ And later, when I suggested we rest, ‘I am always at rest’, he smiled
‘Thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair, Thyself how wondrous then?’ Milton asked ecstatically as we looked at the sky
‘Everything shines with being’, Wordsworth said I offered Jesus a drink ‘I am the water of life’, he said.
I walked in silence with Francis ‘My silence is my question’, I said ‘My silence is my answer’, he replied I walked alone one night With the world for my Friend
The next night I found Hafiz drunk on a bench ‘Come taste this wine!’ he called Shams came to join us ‘I am looking for the Friend’, he sighed.
‘I love these night-time walks’, I said to Anandamaya Ma ‘Love only love’, she said I listened to barking dogs with Abinavagupta ‘Know only knowing’, he said ‘I am…’ ‘Shhh! Don’t add anything to it’, Sri Nisargadatta exclaimed.
I danced down the street with Mozart I prayed in every step with Bach I leaned with Primo Levi against a wall Watching friends and lovers and strangers ‘Each of us’, he said ‘bears the imprint Of a friend met along the way; In each the trace of each’
Yeats joined us ‘There are no strangers here’, he said ‘Only friends we haven’t yet met’ And Rembrandt agreed ‘If you look at anyone for long enough’, he said They will eventually become your friend’
I watched the sun set with Shelley one night ‘The One remains, the many change and pass’, he said And then, as the moon arose, ‘Heaven’s light forever shines, Earth’s shadows fly; Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, Stains the white radiance of Eternity, Until Death tramples it to fragments. Die, If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek!’
And last night Rumi followed me home ‘Kiss the ground with every step’, he said ‘Good night’, I said, without words ‘We part without parting’, he smiled
Just live your life as it comes. Keep quietly alert, inquiring into the real nature of yourself. Perception is based on memory and is only imagination. The world can be said to appear but not to be. Only that which makes perception possible is real.
You agree to be guided from within and life becomes a journey into the unknown. Give up all names and forms, and the Real is with you. Know yourself as you are. Distrust your mind and go beyond. Do not think of the Real in terms of consciousness and unconsciousness. It is utterly beyond both. It gives birth to consciousness. All else is in consciousness.
Nothing you can see, feel or think is so. Go beyond the personal and see. Stop imagining that you were born. You are utterly beyond all existence and non-existence, utterly beyond all that the mind conceives. Question yourself: Who am I? What is behind and beyond all this? Soon you will see that thinking yourself to be a person is mere habit built on memory. Inquire ceaselessly.
Just be aware of your being here and now. There is nothing more to it. In reality you are not a thing nor separate.
You are the infinite potentiality, the inexhaustible possibility. Because you are, all can be. The universe is but a partial manifestation of your limitless capacity to become. You are neither consciousness nor its content. You are the timeless Source. Disassociate yourself from mind and consciousness. Find a foothold beyond and all will be clear and easy.
There is no where in you a paradise that is no place and there You do not enter except without a story.
To enter there is to become unnameable.
Whoever is there is homeless for he has no door and no identity with which to go out and to come in.
Whoever is nowhere is nobody, and therefore cannot exist except as unborn: No disguise will avail him anything
Such a one is neither lost nor found.
But he who has an address is lost.
They fall, they fall into apartments and are securely established!
They find themselves in streets. They are licensed To proceed from place to place They now know their own names They can name several friends and know Their own telephones must some time ring.
If all telephones ring at once, if all names are shouted at once and all cars crash at one crossing: If all cities explode and fly away in dust Yet identities refuse to be lost. There is a name and number for everyone.
There is a definite place for bodies, there are pigeon holes for ashes: Such security can business buy!
Who would dare to go nameless in so secure a universe? Yet, to tell the truth, only the nameless are at home in it.
They bear with them in the center of nowhere the unborn flower of nothing: This is the paradise tree. It must remain unseen until words end and arguments are silent.
