The Mirage of Separation

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by Billy Doyle




  The Mirage

  of Separation

  THE MIRAGE

  OF SEPARATION

  Billy Doyle

  Non-Duality Press

  First published March 2008 by Non-Duality Press

  © Billy Doyle 2008

  Billy Doyle has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as author of this work.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the Publishers.

  Typeset in Dante 12/16 & Syntax 11/16

  Cover image: Landscape by Sesshu Toyo, Tokyo National Museum

  Non-Duality Press, Salisbury, SP2 8JP United Kingdom.

  ISBN 978-0-9558290-0-0

  www.non-dualitybooks.com

  “When you step back from stressing the parts, when the mind becomes still, the rose comes to you, unfolds in you in all her glory.

  The perfume invades you completely. The rose is you. You are one.”

  Jean Klein

  Introduction

  These writings come from a non-dualistic perspective. Our focus is on the nature of our real identity. Until we come to know it, we are lost in a world of ignorance.

  Our basic mistake, and from which all other mistakes arise, is to identify ourselves with an object: the body-mind.

  In doing so we lose sight of our true nature, conscious-ness, pure awareness, taking ourselves to be an expression of life, rather than life itself. Thereby we become engrossed in the world of a personalised I; it is this pseudo-I that usurps our real identity.

  This I-image, the ego, is no more than a collection of shifting ideas and experiences, with no independent reality. In taking ourselves to be a separate entity we have come adrift from our homeground, and inevitably fear and desire arise. In compensation we pursue happiness and security and try to escape pain and sorrow.

  It is only when we understand the illusionary nature of this projection that we become open to our real nature, that which is beyond the mind.

  The Self is not something new to be attained, for it ever is; it has only to be recognized.

  However we can never know the Self as we would an object, for it is the ultimate knower, neither perceivable, nor conceivable; we can only be it. Its nature is self-luminous.

  Billy Doyle

  January 2008

  Index of first lines

  The Mirage of Separation

  there was life

  then there was life

  and somebody living life

  then there was life

  but nobody living life

  then there was life

  can I live with the question

  never touching it

  waiting for the sun to rise

  not anticipating the colours

  living in this not-knowing

  waiting for the inhalation

  dissolving with the exhalation

  letting the question take its form

  letting the answer say what it must

  the great understanding

  is that you can never understand

  the great relief of seeing

  no matter how hard I try

  I can never understand

  I have to leave it to it

  that is the understanding

  the mind can never take you

  to the understanding

  but the heart already knows

  the fool says

  I have understood

  but when understanding takes place

  there is no one left to say

  I have understood

  in truth there is

  nothing to understand

  and there is nobody

  to understand it

  time is not

  where is time when you’re not thinking

  or in deep sleep

  the past, memory, is just a present thought

  the future, also a present thought

  the present moment, illusive

  the instant you try to grasp it, it’s gone

  there’s only the timeless present

  the eternal now

  you say the journey needs time

  but who needs time

  inventing time is itself the problem

  be free of time and its inventor

  rest in the eternal

  where time does not encroach

  we’re invited to sit at the king’s table

  and worried whether we will eat today

  we stand in front of the divine

  and talk of the power we experienced at a shrine

  we stand in the divine

  and discuss how we can find it

  we are the very Self

  and ask what practice to do to attain it

  what comedy do we have here

  on hearing the fish in the water

  was thirsty, Kabir laughed

  if the nightingale asks me for instruction

  how to sing, what am I to say

  if I visit you in your home

  and you tell me you’re not there

  how am I to believe you

  if the Self says it does not know the Self

  what deceit is this

  the Self cannot be other than the Self

  even if it tries to masquerade as the fool

  the sunlight cannot penetrate through

  the thick foliage of the jungle

  reality cannot penetrate the

  thick layers of our defence

  let go your resistance

  drop your shoulders

  and let yourself breathe

  put away your armour

  and give the light just a chance

  to see the orchid

  you need to get off the express train

  simplify your life

  stop day-dreaming

  take a retreat from the I-concept

  and the paraphernalia

  of trying to be somebody

  then see what’s in front of your eyes

  Proprietor:Can I help you?

  Customer:What can I get here?

  Proprietor:There is nothing to get,

  but tell me what you are looking for.

  Customer:Peace, happiness.

  Proprietor:There are no promises here,

  we have no carrots and no sugar lumps.

  Customer:So what’s the deal?

  Proprietor:You have to give everything

  and expect nothing.

  Are you still interested?

  Customer:That’s why I’ve come, the enticements of the world have proved hollow.

  But what must I pay?

  Proprietor:You have to pay with your dreams,

  fantasies, images, every vanity,

  your past, your future, and every

  last cent.

  Customer:It sounds very reasonable, but do I not get to keep anything?

  Proprietor:If you still want to keep

  something you’ve come

  to the wrong establishment.

  These are our strict regulations.

  Customer:So what will be left?

  Proprietor:Why do you ask me such a question?

  Are you not finished with the toys of the phenomenal world? All
that is unreal will be taken away from you. What remains you’ll have to wait and see.

  But perhaps you should go to the

  establishment down the road; they have a three-year course with a recognised certificate at the end.

  Customer: No, no, I have a drawer full.

  But could I think about it and come back tomorrow?

  Proprietor:We don’t do tomorrows.

  There is no time.

  There is only now.

  the ego seems to take on

  a life of its own

  and like the devil

  likes to play tricks

  what to do with this slippery customer

  who craves attention

  best ignore it

  and enjoy your cup of tea

  the little I that has taken

  up residence inside the head

  likes to appropriate everything for itself

  only seeing from its blinkered standpoint

  claiming to be the doer and thinker

  the enjoyer and sufferer

  only in the clear light of day

  is it seen for what it is

  the usurper of the Self

  and vanquished to dust

  what you really desire is me

  you may think it is that new car

  but what you really desire is me

  you may think it is that other woman

  but what you really desire is me

  you may play fast and loose

  but I know what you really want is me

  one day when you’ve had your fun

  you’ll just have to admit it

  what you really desire is me

  desire is a black hole

  impossible to fill

  nothing in space and time

  can satiate its appetite

  it devours everything

  and still seeks for more

  only that beyond space and time

  fulfills its longing

  and leaves it desireless

  when you’ve gone to the

  four corners of the earth

  searched under every stone

  had lovers throughout the seven seas

  explored the eleven dimensions

  spoken to all the wise beings

  it’s time to come home

  and sit by your own fire

  and see what you’ve never seen

  just waiting for you

  bring back your centre of gravity

  scattered over the four winds

  enticed by every fickle

  promise of the world

  and let it embed itself

  in the only reality

  why do we impose

  form on the formless

  make words of that

  which is silence

  why localize that

  which is non-localized

  why reduce to a little me

  that which is the vastness

  why capture the bird that

  soars in the skies

  and enclose it in a cage

  when you take yourself

  to be with form

  you will see the other

  also with form

  and project deities possessing form

  when you have understood

  you are formless

  what “other” can there be

  and “who” is there to see “them”

  when you use the word I

  let it be free of all images

  let it be free of I am this, I am that

  when you use the word I

  let it be free of yesterday and tomorrow

  let it reside in timelessness

  let it resonate in space

  without any border

  without any centre

  let all the small ‘I’s dissolve back into it

  do not try to grasp or touch it with the mind

  for it is always beyond, and yet closer

  this I, you can only be

  pure subjectivity

  non-differentiation

  don’t clutter beauty

  with personal pronouns

  form is an expression of the formless

  time is an expression of the timeless

  words are an expression of the wordless

  all that is perceived

  is within the perceiver

  so why emphasise the outer

  forgetting the inner

  let form come back to the formless

  let time come back to the timeless

  let words come back to the wordless

  let the perception come back

  to the perceiving

  let all rest

  in its homeground

  after eliminating each layer

  that you are not

  body, senses, mind

  and arriving at nothing

  don’t stop there, proceed

  and eliminate the nothing

  in the Self

  there is neither Arab or Jew

  black or white

  Hutu or Tutsi

  high caste or low caste

  male or female

  remove the coat of paint

  and only consciousness is revealed

  the Self only sees the Self

  the scent of the rose

  is not in the flower

  it is in you

  the sound of the Beethoven quartet

  is not in the instruments

  it is in you

  the taste of the mango

  is not in your mouth

  it is in you

  the poem

  is not on the page

  it is in you

  the sunset

  is not in the sky

  it is in you

  meditation

  a practice no one can practise

  abandoning all hope

  free of a doer

  no intention or goal

  accepting and surrendering

  all that arises

  going nowhere

  for where would one go

  and who is there to go

  giving all to the moment

  the moment that cannot be thought

  not knowing, not knowing, not knowing

  there is not

  when the clay pot breaks

  where is the space inside and outside

  where is the you and the me

  the here and there

  the rising and the setting

  the day and the night

  the pure and the impure

  there is not

  volition is the devil

  makes you think you can attain

  but the ultimate is not

  to be attained

  all volition ensnares you

  deeper into the black pit of illusion

  thinking you’ve achieved something

  your compassion for the world is admirable

  but where is the compassion for the Self

  smothered beneath a mountain of concepts

  it can barely breathe

  see through the illusion

  of being a separate entity

  of being I am this, I am that

  and let the Self breathe forth

  fighting the ego is a great battle

  that monster from the underworld

  every minute you must be vigilant

  and ready to take up sword

  but does the creature really exist

  have the sightings been verified

&
nbsp; are they any more than your thoughts

  are you not wrestling with a phantom

  where is the ego

  when you’re not inventing it

  the ego is as sticky as glue

  all the debris collects round it

  producing karmic layering

  burying you deep in your individuality

  but to the Self nothing can cling

  being nothing, insults pass unregistered

  praise, adulation likewise

  nothing invades sacred space

  for there is nothing outside

  and nothing to defend

  the winds of thought

  puff up the sails of the ego

  and blow you hither and thither

  from crest to trough

  from pleasure to pain

  but if you just observe

  these thoughts with disinterest

  they will subside

  and the sails of the ego

  will go slack

  and you will be

  one with the ocean

  not the faintest whiff of objectivity

  not a speck of its corrosive dust

  no-thing to touch or see

  and no-body touching or seeing

  where past and future

  have no echo

  no borders, only I

  Maybe you know this story:

  There was once a fish called Agonda

  that heard of this marvellous thing called water.

  It went on a long search from ocean to ocean

  asking many a wise fish where water was to be found. After years of fruitless journeys and much misleading advice, Agonda was discussing her plight with a rather ordinary-looking fish she met by some rocks. It told Agonda:

 

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