Have you ever played the little game of observing – perhaps counting – the number of times in a day (or even an hour) that you express choice? If yes, you’ll know how difficult it is to think or speak at all without exercising choice – comparison, aversion, preference…
(Do you want another cup of tea? – No thanks, I’m waterlogged.)
It’s a simple example. No more tea is required, no problem. A functional decision was made on a faster-than-light assessment of the body-state, right now.
But one step down, when thoughts about rightness or wrongness, about should and ought, about what the other’s reaction to the reply might be… arise, along come the apparent problems.
Immersed in now-this-here, in the inescapable presence of suchness, choiceless awareness is problem-free.
Of course there are problems; isn’t that the nature of dreams?
If you wake up from a sleeping-dream which was problem-filled you say, “Oh it was only a dream, whew!”
When you wake up within the big Dream the response is the same: “Whew!”
As they say in the big Down Under: “No worries, mate!”
The first time I sat with Krishnamurti he asked us whether it was possible to live without problems. Just to entertain the possibility. What exactly is a “problem?” he asked.
Twenty years and much deliberation later, spaciousness scribbles: A problem is a thought believed to be real by another thought – the ‘me’ thought. It’s only by inquiring into the nature of thought that one gets a grip on problems. Or, rather, they lose their grip on the tail-chasing thinker.
Problems are as ephemeral as the ‘me’ thought. When the dreamer wakes up to the Dream, problems are seen as Life’s creative unfolding. There is nothing outside of this utterly mind-boggling miracle of Creation.
a softness in the shadowy light
slimmest sliver of peach in the east
kookaburra’s cackle piercing
the expectant marvel
problems and concerns
issues and causes
that used to be upfront in mind
are weirdly absent
the space they vacated is sometimes called the void
but there’s nothing null about it
no vacancy, no gut-gripping nihilism
this Emptiness is singing with life,
pregnant with potential
I cast about for a concept
and this falls out of my pen:
it’s the womb of all Creation