Wonderlove – A Pretty Good Place
13/
It seems I’ve broken the Eleventh Commandment: “Thou shalt not give up!” a lot lately.
I have given up practically everything I don’t need. Well, everything I don’t think I need. There’s a kind of abandonment of thought in favor of simple being. It’s as if the fist of my mind has relaxed. There’s a relaxation into this which is beyond mind, and way beyond words and the stories they tell. It’s a kind of in – dwelling. A situating of ones self smack dab in the middle of life, yet not so much in it as on it. On in the sense of turned on, like a lamp. Not a lamp in a specific place; not a lamp over there in a corner of the box we call our room, or our mind, or our body. The lamp is on there, but it is not located there.
That light has no separate location in space and time; it is not now here, now there. The light of our awareness glows within the very stuff of life. It constitutes who we are and who we think we are. This awareness is impossible to describe; all words about it cast a mindspell that merely hints and alleges and never knows. Any and all words about it are as true as anything else, and as false.
One pretty good word to describe this pretty good place is Reality. Not the one we all speak of; not the one we think we know. That reality is our concept of it. And not the “reality” we feel emotionally, or smell, or touch, or see and hear all around us. That reality is our sense of it.
The reality we wildly attempt to speak of here is this which permeates all that, this which not only creates all that, but is all that. This is the source. This is the ground of our being. Call it Truth, or God, or Love. Call it what you like, we know it when we know it.
The thing here is that we doubt we know this truth. So we reach to the ends of the earth for that which we already are. For that which will, at some future time and place, finally, truly make us happy. And we read books like this, and meditate on our Teachers teachings, and practice, and repeat in our life and in our heads, all that seems worth repeating. All with the hope and expectation that we can and will become that which we would love to be, but aren’t. Yet.
Then comes that magical timeless time; we have a breaking through, a thoughtless now. And we hum; all life hums, and we know we are all life, humming. We see there is no need to change a thing. And that every thing is constantly changing, and no thing exists separately –all is, indeed, one. And we are not more or less happy. We are happiness. We see that we have never done any thing but live as the wind lives. We cannot start or stop, or begin to begin, anything. We are infinity, infinitely expressed in this finite form commonly referred to as “you” and “me”.
And that’s a pretty good place to be.
