sitting at 2am, at 3am, at 4am
awareing distant thunder-rolls
pattering rain, the throb
the sweet silver singing
on the other side of thinking
watching the dance
of candle flame and curling
smoke from incense stick
the soft shifting shadow-shapes on
brick, the floating lace on invisible
at 5am the first timorous bird wakes the kookaburras who are sleeping late this dull dawn, and the chorus of craw, cackle, warble and trill begins
at 6am the eastern rim is softly lit
the earth stirs, exhales, mist rises
I make tea
Self-inquiry, for she-who scribbles, is pretty straight forward. There’s no agenda involved and conclusions are avoided. I simply sit (or whatever – it happens as often as remembering does) and watch the arising of thoughts. There’s now no inclination to consider that thoughts are ‘mine’ or that they have significance. Nevertheless they ebb and flow, as is their nature, and I’m curious by nature so I watch them like a researcher.
In my ‘thinking’ research, I find two distinct types of ‘knowing’ seem to occur. For ease of reference, and without being esoteric, I’ll call them alpha and omega.
So-called alpha thinking is linear (think alpha-bet/language) with all lines of thought moving out from and returning to me. The lines form ruts with habitual use, ruts of conditioned reflexes. My alpha thinking corresponds with intellect.
Omega ‘knowing’ is different and calling it thinking is inaccurate for it’s beyond language, beyond all that can be conceived. I’ll call it Omega-mind. It’s unconditioned, has no centre, is ubiquitous. It probably corresponds to impersonal intelligence.
When creative learning or action is occurring, omega-mind is in action, and when that learning needs to be recalled and written-up, alpha thinking comes into play.
Alpha thinking’s arena is the past and the future: it’s the inventor of the persona that plays in the field of time.
But omega-mind is always present as the background unknowable knowingness that alpha thinking arises within. There’s no persona involved, and time and space aren’t relevant. I wonder if my omega-mind might correspond to the original-mind of Zen?
what entertainment, to watch the things Life gets up to
in this dream-spun cocoon!
unburdened, thanks to a mini-mindshift,
there’s no longer a sack of guilt or blame or duty
on my back
what about responsibility?
Life knows how to respond to anything that can be dreamed up
in any of ITs dreams
Life is amorality
amorality is an interesting word –
means transcendental love
Solving the ‘what am I?’ riddle is surprisingly simple really – you just keep on examining all the answers presented by the concept-weaving machine (imagination, thought) until you realize it’s impossible that you could be any one of them.
As long as they exist as objects to be considered, there has to be something – a subject – pondering them. Eventually you realize that however deep you go into this crazy-making Hall of Mirrors there is always an awareness of what is being pondered, and you notice that this awareness is a pure Subjectivity. It cannot be objectified. It cannot observe itself from any perspective whatsoever – just as your eye cannot see its iris.
You know it’s impossible for the ultimate version of ‘you’ to be anything other than that pure Subjectivity, which is pretty interesting because at the same time you know there’s no ‘you’ to know!
Put bluntly, if you say you know the answer you’re wrong. You can only be the answer.
wherever one goes,
all places are ‘here’
whatever one perceives,
all phenomena are ‘this’
whenever one’s alive,
all time is ‘now’
this is my acronym-based version
of the mathematician’s ‘n’ degree (nth)
– the now-ing, this-ing, and here-ing
awared by the ‘I’ thing
or rather, no-thing,
that’s their source
On the Blackall Range the sun shakes itself off and emerges from the gleaming Pacific earlier than on the coast. We sit sipping our steaming green tea, awareing the birth of the new day.
Gradually the little motel room floods with golden light called up by the bird-lords of the mountain, who take off for breakfast elsewhere once their work is accomplished. Other fellow-travelers stir: a dog barks at a jogger, a gecko jumps at a huntsman spider, a TV begins to quack in the next unit . . .
The apparent shift to another place, another space, is just that – an appearance. Phenomena may change, will change, are ceaselessly changing . . .
But this Light of awareing doesn’t rise or set, and knows no time or space. Wherever we go IT remains unchanged, yet IT births all that appears to change. Wherever we place our cushions for a morning sit, there IT is. And when we get up again? There IT is. Beloved!
When Jiddu Krishnamurti was asked for the most important point in his teaching, he replied: “The observer is the observed.”
For 20 years those 5 words haunted me wherever I went; they were a koan stuck in the neurons.
Intuitively, it was easy to grasp; intellectually it was entertaining.
But who or what (I wondered) was understanding and being entertained?
While Krishnamurti was one of the great mindshifters in my life, he failed to explain – in a way that this brain could grasp – exactly why the observer cannot be anything but the observed, and further, why it is impossible for that observer to self-exist as an entity.
For those clarifications, I bow deeply to Wei Wu Wei, and it is to share that savage wisdom that I write. Just in case there’s another brain out there that is as stubborn and slow and opaque as mine; a brain with a little slit that this ruthless arrow of truth can fly through.