please don’t lie to me

 

Echoes from Emptiness: Please don't lie to me....

 

please

don’t tell me you don’t know
exactly WHAT you are

(that you ARE the peace and sweet release
you seek)

. . .

I know you’ve looked;
you’ve seen, you’ve conceded
that
– nothing you know
–  nothing you think
–  nothing you feel
– nothing you remember
– nothing you experience
can be what you are

since

– all these phenomena
–  all these perceptions
– all these peculiarities

come and go

yet

your bright alive Knowingness remains

. . .

Beloved – even your pain
your suffering, your grief,
rise and fall –
you’ve seen how they wither
(along with your hubris)
when you drop out of your story
and into mind-fucking
immeasurable
timelessness
that never changes

don’t tell me you haven’t yet fallen
back/forward/down/across/into
THIS
that can’t be known
or experienced

don’t lie to me, Beloved

I don’t believe you

. . .

 


I toppled into the Venus flytrap

364

propelled by memories of childhood intimidation
I toppled into the Venus flytrap called wee-me
my body’s ultra-sticky reflexive reactions
instantly creating a powerless self
that set about consuming itself

impressive!

propelled by the practice of presence
I fell back into the changeless nameless
numinous no-thing-ness
where nothing can stick or stain
and neither self nor no-self are on the menu

nothing special

~

hairy caterpillar horror

340

It’s difficult to describe the intense pain and excruciating itch experienced on contact with Australia’s notorious hairy caterpillars.  I had a tactile taste of it today.

 

Echoes from Emptiness - Australian Hairy Caterpillar

 

These caterpillars march along in head-to-tail formation – long columns of fluffy wigglers in search of tucker.  As they travel they drop miniscule invisible hairs which carry some kind of poisonous irritant.  You merrily dash out to the clothesline in the morning and unwittingly walk over these hairs in your bare feet.  The effect is instant – the body’s immune system sets up a red alert.  If you’re a baby or a toddler you could die.

Searing itching agony creeps up the feet to the ankles, then up the shins to the knees. The hand that scratches picks up the poison and becomes affected as well.  You dive into the swimming pool to escape the fury of itching and to wash the hairs away.

Sheer agony.  Undeniable.  And yet …

Why is it that the pristine awareness in which this hairy horror movie plays out is utterly unaffected?  Beats me, but turning to that ultimate changeless refuge never fails to sabotage the arising of suffering.

~

a riddle in three parts

313

What has neither parents nor offspring
yet knows existence as its family tree?

.

What has never had a mind to ‘make up’
yet sees everything directly and intimately
and acts freely, without choice?

.

What has no body, no form
yet the ten thousand things
and the ten thousand no-things
fit it perfectly?

~

making up with dear wee-me

295

what is, is always a somatic event, whether it be a mental or physical experience, whether it be of the ‘external’ world, or the ‘internal’ one

this body teaches me, guides me; it has its own way of regulating its miraculous system

when it’s happy it lets me know: it sleeps soundly, thinks clearly, stays centered in imperishable knowingness

I write “it lets me know” and instantly need to correct the illusion of two: it lets itself know, and a wee ‘me’ thought claims receipt

dear wee ‘me’ thought – you serve me well

now that you’ve revealed yourself as the ephemeral indispensable servant of the changeless Real, the Beloved, we are friends, we can make up, we can stop pretending this default dualism

at last

~

have you found that which never changes?

274

this thusness
is the body of beingness
yours, mine, and all the appearances taking the verb
‘to be’

it never moves yet it contains all that changes

have you found that which never changes?
that which  never moves?
that which never knows, labels or holds a belief about anything?

find that – it’s closer than your next thought
and Totality will at last embrace ITself

~

it’s all the same to I

272

this soundly sleeping body was the scene of a mozzie-massacre in the night:
today an insect screen will be mended!

.

sleep or no sleep
comfort or discomfort
peace or irritation –
it’s all the same to I

sob and bitch and moan
laugh and giggle and grin
gossip and lies and satsang –
it’s all the same to I

.

I is simply I:
no conditions affect It
no purpose distracts It
no preference confuses It
no definition contains It

I is YES! to everything
without even being asked

~