self-fiction

there’s only one player in this game

55

there has been rain in the night
and the earth’s breath
is fresh and fruity this dawn

…

what am I?

‘I’ is the Knowingness
apperceiving that ‘me’ is not
and only ‘I-ness’ is

intellectual acceptance of this
isn’t difficult;
self thinks it has understood something
and is pleased

but as this savage wisdom percolates down
into the darker layers
something called me
isn’t so happy

the battle of battles begins but
the outcome is inevitable –
winners in every corner
all bets collectable!

turns out there’s only one Player!

~

don’t believe me for one minute

53

this is what I found out, not from a book or a teacher,
but from looking at life without looking for a way out:

the root of all evil and of all tragedy and of all pain
is the belief in a solid, separate ‘me’

that
believes
in victims and victimizers;

that
believes
what happens should not happen;

that
believes
there is a ‘me’ to suffer;

that
believes
that a way must be found to avoid such suffering

the extent to which this might seem callous and cold
is the extent of one’s addiction to belief in
self-as-body
self-as-idea
self as something – anything

but please, don’t believe me for one minute

find out for yourself

~

avoiding Grace

12

self-construct lives within a cocoon
woven on the loom of its experience

biological structure is the warp, experience is the weft

image-ination is the technology self – aka thought –
uses to patch up the rips in the cocoon

but these are the rips “through which Grace might pass”

(Simone Weil was onto it)

what inconceivable peace one patches over
with every suture stitched by belief!

~

pure and naked Presence

11

collisions between my various and sundry selves went on for years
self in heart didn’t match any of the selves that were packed away
in the rat-pack of possessions that head-self needed to keep
just in case …

head-self hung on to boxed-selves,
heart-self ached for unknowable Self beyond selves

eventually the inevitable came to pass:
the packaged persons were faced
the battleground was marked out and war raged
until all the selves – head’s and heart’s, ‘lower’ and ‘higher’
were seen as one delusion

all selves

that was the catastrophic and unavoidable end
and the sweet, fresh, ever-renewing rebirth
as pure and naked Presence

~

liberation from the ludicrous lie

07

when identification with the solid, objective self/doer falls away
and clarity reveals that the body-brain-world is wholly lived by Beingness

what then?

vast release; liberation from the ludicrous lie

brain’s technology toolbox awaits instructions…
how tempting to dig out the old id and begin
another construction of a self
– a special, liberated self…

(sly grin)

says Beingness: no big deal! there’s only one player in this game

~

a huge human hoodwink

03

fictional self hangs on its tailor-made cross

first, self swallowed its own story,
and then it dreamed up the ‘cross’ concept
to hang its guilty suffering self upon
then, of course  it needed to invent
ways out

best way out?

invent a hereafter, with exclusive admission rights
this keeps self in business – selling sure salvation

but this is what I have seen with savage clarity:
the whole ‘solid-state self’ story is a fake,
a huge human hoodwink

no self : no doership
no doership : no suffering
no suffering : no salvation


cruci-fiction

01

if peace exists at all, it must surely exist
now
it must exist in
this
and it must exist right
here

would that mean suffering is
the absence
of awareness of peace
now, in this and right here?

ignorance opinionated-ness self-aggrandizement
– the fictions making up the fiction of a self –
these are the saboteurs of my awareness of peace, now

I sit at the foot of my cross

mea maxima culpa

cruci-fiction