I was asked to find my mind
I was asked to find my thoughts
I was asked to find my self
So then it seemed timely to try to find
that was so successful at failing
it couldn’t be found
it can’t be escaped
oh how I love being so deluded
that simply watching words leak out of a pen
can deliver shameless delight!
Image: Andrew Wyeth – Wind from the Sea
Tempera on hardboard, 1947, detail
[What moves – the curtain or the wind?]
Source: Washington Post
All writing on this blog leaks from the pen of Miriam Louisa Simons. Over at my other blog this unlit light, you’ll find more of a smorgasbord of writing, including some of my own.
I chose this WordPress theme for its uncluttered minimalism, and because it’s responsive (i.e., it displays readably on all devices). All the links that normally appear in a sidebar or footer are hidden behind the menu icon at the top of the page. If you feel inclined to explore the offerings posted here since 2010, please click that icon. You’ll also find a way to follow this blog by email there. I promise you won’t be overwhelmed – emptiness has erratic and unpredictable habits. Posts turn up. I marvel.
Copyright © Emptiness
I keep on checking
but I always fail to find
a ‘within’ or ‘out there’
apart from thoughts in mind
so how can I ‘go within’
to ‘nurture’ the Immeasurable
or ‘cultivate’ it in the world
when ‘world’ and ‘me’ are inseparable?
if there’s no ‘there’ out there
(and this isn’t hard to see)
the buck stops right here
in this matrix called ‘me’
with nowhere to go
and nowhere to hide
no inner, outer, higher or lower
the heart can open wide
can kiss each wondrous moment
with a love that can’t be taught
the only way you’ll stop it
is to entertain a thought
Sculpture: Meditating Woman by Dorothy Frankel
In all these decades of stalking
the sages’ “who am I?”
I’ve only learned what I’m not.
I thought I was this body,
these thoughts and feelings
and the timeline on which
they inscribe their stories.
But how can I be anything perceived
or felt or conceived?
Or remembered or imagined?
I’d have to split myself in two:
one bit of me to be the viewer
and one to be the view.
If I can’t split myself in two
(have you tried it?)
well, um m m m m
how can I claim that I’m even one?
Indivisible T H U S N E S S is present;
yet to claim that it is ‘one’
turns out to be
a thought too far.
Is Advaita* philosophy fatalistic? Escapist? Depressing? Negative?
Perhaps, if you’re asking from the perspective of an assumed independent entity, one who claims personal responsibility and purpose and is driven by either the carrot dangling from the stick in front, or the pressure of the ‘thou shalts’ from the rear. Perhaps, if you believe in goodness and evil, right and wrong, and that it’s ‘you’ that exercises the power to choose between them.
Perhaps not, if you’ve looked deeply and discovered that the independent person you took yourself to be is (gulp) a construction built up from thoughtstuff. Perhaps not, if, having profoundly understood this, you see that beliefs aren’t something you have but what the imaginary person is.
In the world of appearances, it always depends on where you’re looking from.
Looking from the absolute impossibility of independent person-hood, to whom could it matter? Looking from the relative reality of a daily life however – the one we apparently inhabit – it matters all right. Damn right it matters.
But there’s something about the weird knowing (weird in that there’s no knower) that ‘I’ is the ball of thoughts bouncing back and forth in an infinite rally creating the illusion of separation, as well as their very source, that bestows the freedom to be fully and fantastically human.
This is life’s ultimate brain-numbing and head-shaking paradox.
*Advaita = not two. Actually, not even one. Indivisible thusness.
thoughts are ceaselessly arising:
the ones that get attention
w o w