‘n’ – the ubiquitous dimension of ‘now-this-here’ – is not a thing; it could never be any kind of fixed object with independent existence. It’s easy to understand that nothing perceived can ever be a solid separate ‘thing’: in order for any ‘thing’ to be an object, it needs a subject. And we cannot provide any subject without it turning likewise into an object. So, what perceives ‘n’ and all its phenomenal contents?
When I stop and sit and shut up, the suchness of ‘n’ is simply apparent as ‘now-this-here’-i n g.
Try as I might, I cannot find a separate perceiver of this suchness. If it has no subject how can it be an object? It flies solo. Yet – it is my source and substance.
Sometimes one gets frustrated trying to find clean and accurate phrases to wordify this immaculate suchness – ‘n’ – the ‘what-is.’
Language – this English one at any rate – is quite useless for this purpose. Whatever is uttered immediately needs qualification, adjustment, explanation.
Perhaps poetry is the medium, but its technologies aren’t known to me.
(Are they knowable at all?)
The problem is the subject-object split.
If I say, “I am sad”, for example, I lie.
I cannot find an owner of sadness (or any-thing else).
Sadness simply is ‘what-is.’
Perhaps one could say, “I is sadness.”
But that would be grammatically clumsy. And also irrelevant, because the ‘I’ seeks no reason for it; ‘I’ has no aversion towards it; has no need to express it.
The sensation of sadness is an energetic body-brain response to apparent conditions, often appropriate and inevitable in the grand scheme of dream-scenarios – as is all suffering, at the bottom line.
And, like the dreams, changing, always changing.
How then to write about That which never changes?
Poetry is the medium.
Like creativity, knowing nothing about how to ‘do it’ is probably the only way for it to happen.
‘I’ is the subject that cannot be objectified.
Each attempt to turn ‘I’ into an object for scrutiny or description
shows ‘I’ turning up again as subject regarding that object.
Talk about a slippery fish!
But ‘wee-me’ keeps on casting its net,
hoping to catch that fish,
hoping to dissect it,
label its parts,
write a learned paper about it,
teach the world how to catch it
transform and transcend it once and for all.
The big fishy I-eye just watches.
No comment. No preference. No change.
Image: Trigger Fish Eye, by Bill Atherton
what does surrender mean?
who does it?
and to what?
in the context of these notes, it’s a verb that takes no subject or object
it attempts to describe what ‘happens’ when the self-as-doer-construct dissolves, and the body-mind-being understands that it is purely and simply lived by Life
there’s no one feeling either happy or sad about this
but the sense of spaciousness is immense