A journey,
or a poem... here
When I close my eyes, then I look at nothing, I look at myself... I see the back of my eyelids... When I "close" my ears, I hear myself, I hear silence... I hear the pumping of my heart in my veins. And here lies my confusion. Because what I hear and see there, is not all that I am. Just like when I point to my shadow at the ground.
He exists because of me, but I am not the shadow, the shadow is a consequence born out of my existence. I can play with it and think of it as me, control it, dance with it...
But when the light is switched of, then the shadow is gone...
I am still here It is the same realisation as to look into the mirror and to say "this is not all of me! This is a reflection of me! The opposite of a shadow and that is not all of me but equally a consequence of my existence!"
But when the light is switched of, the reflection is gone...
I am still here What I fully am is less than nothing, more silent than silence, emptier than empty and gives birth to the silence I hear, the blackness I see, the nothingness I feel. That is why I can't find all of myself in silence or emptiness, no more than in noise or fullness or whiteness, as both are still creations born out of me. I am the beingness that both nothing and everything spring for and from, that is both nothing and everything together, not either of these. So I have a good look at my shadow. Does my body identifiy with it and say, this is me? I keep a steady focus on that shadow self. The identification vanishes and there is no more difference between the seer and the shadow but it is an artificial void.
A impermanent oneness, that vanishes with the snap of a finger, collapses back into an inside and an outside.
But knowing remains.
Through knowing the shadow can be objected, identified as an object "that is not all of me, that is my shadow!" I look at my hand and say "this is me."
And a knowing appears that says "this is not all of me, it is my hand, it is a part of me."
I look into the mirror and a knowing exists, it is a reflection that is looked at. Not the whole self. There is a difference between the two. A reflection of me is a reflection of me and therefore less than me, a reduction of myself, just like the shadow is a lower dimensional distorted form of myself. An extract, a part of me. I can never see all of myself, only parts, shadows, reflections, distorted by the mirror, the other self that casts it back to me. I can never hear all of myself, i can only wave existence from me and get reflected from my other self back to me. I know myself, know that I am and this is always, permanently and undoubtedly true, while I can also play that I'm not. Neither seeing nor not seeing, neither hearing nor not hearing, nether doing nor not doing can show me that, only pieceses of it. I cannot experience no experience, therefore my existence can't be shown, or demonstrated to me. The experience of something or nothing is already a demonstration of my existence. I know my existence to be absolutely true. It is, what is, without doubt. But that knowing itself is empty. I simply know that I am, not who I am and it is the search for the who that birthes joy and love or casts the shadows of doubt, as many things tell me what I'm not and when that hits with enough force then it threatens the knowing that I am. It clouds it with fears and painfull experiences. So I may seek comfort in others telling them who they are, so that they can tell me who I am. An audience needs an actor just as much as an actor needs an audience. A child that dances in innocence, that dances for the pleasure of the dance, is also its own audience. And like the audience that watches a good actor, they are lost in the beauty of the play. Instead of two, for a moment they are one. It is only when the child grows and suddenly knows, that his own audience is empty, that it then starts to crave others, the promise of the real reality. The promise of meaning.
But when the child detaches from the dance and becomes aware of the emptyness...
What happens, when that knowing grows?
When the emptyness of the self contaminates the other?
When everything that is seen becomes just an empty reflection of one self?
When innocent joy becomes vain narcicissm?
When the actor realises, that he is nothing without his audience?
And that there is no audience?
What is the poodle's core?
What is truth?
In the end
Eventually, here, rested and comfortably fed at the warm fire, surrounded by a familiy of others, I want to know what it is, that is. But to be all, is to face the absolute. It is to take the knowing of my existence and then throwing everything into the abyss. It is gazing up into the infinit void, calmly resting in mother earth's lap. The doubtful mind sees eternity and says that can't possibly be me, I can't bear that thought. The restful mind, the mind resting in knowing leaves itself open for the roaring in the depths of the heart. So that when the gazing eye and the silent mind peer into the cosmos, there is no fear of the void. In the sprinkling of all the light of the universe, of billions and billions of distant stars the heart bursts open in a seemingly unbearable love and gratitude, surrenders to the infinite glory and blissful beauty of the absolute. There a mind recognises it's shadowness, the echo of what it was and is and becomes stillness, in awe, while the heart relishes in unity with the father and the mother, with the devine, the "..."
where all springs from, that is more than I am and of whom/what/which I am part of.
I align as if one, in the awareness of my shadow, and the knowing of my self being the shadow of something greater than me. Audience and actor become one in an eternal play, lost in perpetual contemplation of an infinite glory. I stop chasing my shadow down the rabbid whole into eternal nothingness and emerge from the depth as a son and daughter of all there is.
I hear the silence within the noise.
A smile appears
a joyful breath
a beating heart
and a knowing
that is...
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