I knew I was a phony

241

‘Wee-me’ loves to think of itself as being ‘what-one-really-is.’  And with the application of very odd logic it also claims to be able to change, train, control and make-up its own mind.

I looked everywhere for it, within and without.  Being led to believe that I’d found it – by believing others’ stories about me, I tried all the tricks to train it, heal it, change and control it.  I became a better story – again according to others.

But I knew I was a phony, a dissembler.

I couldn’t live with such incoherence.  I had to take the inquiry deeper.

One day, having tracked the poor ‘wee-me’ thing to its archive in the thought-stacks, I gazed into its pathetic, cowering, tear-brimmed eyes and saw my shimmering mirage-self.  I saw its terror at being exposed.  I hugged it and told it not to worry.  It fell into this Heart.

The gap between wee-me-myself and Selfing snapped shut.

That was the day the weeping ended.

mmmmmmmmm m m  m  m   m    m . . .

~

the big fishy I-eye just watches

212

 

‘I’ is the subject that cannot be objectified.

Try it.

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

great silence welcomes insomniacs

176

Habitual sleeping patterns are being trashed, like most other habit-bound activities. Initially there was anxiety about this.  All the usual fears around insomnia clamored to be heard.

When the penny dropped through the works and took with it the ‘wee-me’ that thought it was more than just a thought, it was no longer possible to be anxious about … well, anything really – not for long anyway.  This brings a new view on conditioned expectations and intentions about what ‘should’ be.  They are noticed for what they are and slip away under that scrutiny.

Sensitivity to what this energy mandala called body really needs – and it does have needs according to its unique configurations and evolution – sets conflicting mind-views at rest.

If this body doesn’t wish to sleep at night, as is the norm, so be it!  Let it sit.  Let it sink into its natural throbbing silence.  In deep sleep, with the ‘thinking’ button turned off by default, there is only this great silence.  In sitting as suchness, no stories spinning, that same great silence is all-embracing.  Beloved!
~

dream drama 101

168

Wee-me’s story is a dream dreamed by Creation via the sensory tools customized for its unique mind-body organism.  The same goes for those of all the so called ‘others’ and their stories.

How did those sensory tools – and those pesky ‘others’ – get into the picture?

Creation dreamed them up, like everything else in the Great Dream Drama.

Dream Drama 101 is basic but brutal.

You pass the exam – which qualifies you for no-thing whatsoever – by waking up to the unarguable:  there’s only one dream (1), only one dreamer (1), and it’s all your dearly Beloved self (0). You’re the salami in the sandwich!

Wrap your arms around yourself.  Huge hugs are in order.

~

memo to busy wee-me

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this pathless path has only three signposts
and they don’t point to any-thing or any-place:

stop

shut up

sink

into the unknowable Knowingness that you already are, that you are, that you are,
that you are

~

sitting in the dawn-blushed sanctuary
sitting on the zafu:  point zero
sitting with the rhythm of Life’s breath
sitting with hum, furnace of the universe
sitting with so, silver singing silence

sitting ’til the sitter is the sitting
and the blushing and the breathing
and the hum-ing and the silence
and there is only Beloved’s Beingness
and wee-me is a thought-galaxy yet to be invented

~