And she whispered gentle silence to still all toil and striving. Ah the newness, oh the newness…
Life doesn’t give a fuck how you think you are or how you want to be. All the while there is something sought, something looked for in life. Constant striving to be what you imagine or who you imagine yourself to be. Looking for experiences, states, achievements, power, status, money, on and on and on… always something. Moving in time, apparently, moving forward and never quite arriving. But you know my friend, my dear friend what you’re looking for can never be shown to you because it has never been lost. It cannot be known or experienced or seen or understood. It is the listening not whats heard, it is the seeing- not whats seen, it is the touching not whats touched… It is no thing. It is life itself not what’s apparently happening in it. This is boundless freedom, boundless and unconditional love and it doesn’t give a fuck about how you think you are. It doesn’t care because what you experience and feel yourself to be as a separate self moving in time, negotiating and relating with other apparent separate selves and objects- is a total illusion. This addition of ‘Me’ to whats apparently happening, this ‘me’ that shifts like sand through your fingers.
This is liberation- liberation from having to ‘get there’, from having to be accomplished, happy or whatever carrot the mind throws up. Life itself, Being- is whats sought. Simply This, not the content or story or whats apparently happening.
No teachers, no masters, nothing to learn, nothing to do. Simply and unconditionally this.
When the separate individual falls away This (no thing) is recognized as what was always looked for and it is seen that no thing is also everything. So instead of focusing on something or wanting something (to happen perhaps) it is seen that nothing and everything are the same, they are not two separate things. It is seen that life as an illusionary separate self was a half life, everything was secondhand. It was secondhand because it was filtered through an imaginary “me” who thought they could know the world. So the newness wasn’t seen. Everything is always new as it both is and isn’t. Amazing. So ordinary and so amazing, totally beyond any effort to describe it (this).