The Ghost In The Works

The me is constantly seeking its place to be defined by space and time, which it perceives as real, and seems to perceive no-thing as something that is a presence it knows as “I am”. The me seeks to gain the fulfilment it believes it needs in the non-dual message by seeing it as a way to soothe its tension and reframe its thoughts and feelings, as if it were a form of therapeutic practice, holding on to no-thing as though it were something to be improved, moved, or eradicated.

For the me is the ultimate ducker and diver, the ultimate performer, the ultimate imposter, constantly asking itself what it has to do, what it has to be or not be, where it has to be, what it has to learn, and what it has to gain or lose, in order to find the fulfilment it hopes will satisfy the longing it feels for the wholeness it believes it has lost.

The me not only objectifies itself, but turns the universe into an object that appears to control it too, which it bows down to in abeyance in the hope of keeping its place. To this end, the me will instantly transform anything it hears about non-duality into a teaching to follow, no matter how many times the message states that it is not a teaching.

The me does not want to hear that it does not exist and never was real, and when exposed to the non-dual message that appears from no one and for no reason, this may be experienced as feelings of tension. In order to keep its place, it will try to turn its causeless appearance and disappearance into a story of awakening, stabilising, and final liberation, something that can be caused in terms it understands and can control.

The me does not want to hear, and resists, what feels like hopelessly bad news: that there is nothing it can do to bring about its own destruction, and that it was never real in the first place. But all this me-ing is just no-thing appearing perfectly as it is, as being, without rhyme or reason, and it disappears as inexplicably as the answer to the question, “Why does the universe exist?”. Yet, if one thing can be said, the dream does seem to end, as naturally as leaves fall from a tree in autumn and settle on the ground.

And this disappearance, which is beyond any mind to understand, despite what the me had built it up to be, turns out to be the ultimate anti-climatic collapse into the natural super-ordinariness of all that is appearing, indivisibly and unconditionally already love and wholeness and perfect as it is. The body and mind can sigh with relief at the apparent death of the me and be free, and there may be a bemused wondering of what the heck that was all about, but, like trying to catch a dream, find it impossible to find again or explain, for there is no-one who knows anything, and there is just what is apparently happening for no-reason.

With love,

Freyja