Truly all that you believe yourself to be and all that you believe the world to be
and what you should be like and with the world should or could be like are all ideas
When the sense of self loses its relevance the fear of its imagined death evaporates.
In a field of remembered hues
That only life as life
You can not tell a self this
And by no means
Can it be understood
We are speaking the language
That only clouds
There comes a sublime contentment when it dawns that you will never be happy.
Life is an emotional spectrum that ranges from great joy to great horror.
Happiness is conditional.
There is a sublime quiescence in the middle of the emotional reactions.
But it is not dependent on circumstances.
It is always there......right in the middle of the swirling mnemonic debris.
You are suspended between the conceptual storm on the outside and the sublime quiescent edgelessness in the center
Most are focused on the conceptual turmoil
The search comes to a full stop.....
The dream continues.
But now it is un-owned .
You are a beautiful mental fabrication.....a tiny temporary window through which the manifested universe gets a fleeting glimpse of it own wonder.
It can be painful when it dawns on the brain that its precious sense of self never actually existed
And yet the sense of self is the only tool the brain has to consider its own ultimate irrelevance.
It means nobody else can sit in that chair but you....
The sense of personal identity is woven by the brain out of its remembered past and hoped for future.
It is a streaming phantom, appearing in the objectified momentary.
It is a frame of reference not an entity
The starkness of this understanding can alarm the seeker's mind and at first glimpse many recoil back into the familiar.
Many will dance around the fire but linger at a safe distance keeping the illusion of personal autonomy alive with cleverness and shell games.
The simple apprehension that this is it.....this ever emerging momentary...this streaming objectified perspective is all there is......is to most, terrifyingly empty.
To those who leap into the flames.....it is emptiness......overflowing.
You are awareness aware of being aware through the dream of being human....
Without imaginary separation....
There is no recognition of unicity.....
Nor awareness aware of being aware.....
We ARE the dream.