by Billy Doyle
“The water is all around you.”
Agonda was astonished, and laughing at herself felt overjoyed.
We seek happiness thinking it must be something outside us to be acquired. We look in every direction until we realise it is not outside, but our real nature, nearer than the nearest, we have always been at home.
There was once a king called Alexi, who on
waking one morning after a strange dream
found his wife missing. He sent his courtiers
throughout his kingdom in search of her.
But after a year had passed and no success
he was almost suicidal. Then one morning
on waking he remembered he had never been
married.
Our misery is created by the illusion we lack something. When we wake up in our real nature we realise nothing was ever missing.
you know the world around you
you know your house
you know your body, your thoughts,
emotions, your personality
but who is this knower
you can never know the knower
it is not an object to be known
it is the eternal background
the silence
that which you are
it is ignorance to know
the diversity of the whole world
and never to have asked
who is the knower
the tree you can touch
the grass you can feel
the Self you cannot touch it
the sunset you can see
you can see the autumn leaves
the Self is never seen
you can hear the flute
and the child laughing
you will not hear the Self
the orange blossom has a fragrance
so does the freshly cut grass
the Self is without any fragrance
there is no doubting
the taste of the mango
or the taste of honey
but you will not taste the Self
you can think about your beloved
or the nature of time
but you can never think of the Self
it lies beyond the contamination
of the mind
ever present
don’t try to be aware
for you are already awareness
just note you lose yourself in thought
don’t try to be silent
for you are already silence
just note the lack of silence
don’t try to be at peace
for you are already peace
just note the lack of peace
it’s nonsense trying to be
what you already are
awareness, silence, peace
the rose does not try to be a rose
it’s before you see
it’s before you hear
it’s before you think
how can you doubt it
it’s nearer than the nearest
it needs no eyes to see it
it needs no ears to hear it
it needs no mind to think it
the concept is an abstraction
keeps us in the fog of the mind
reinforcing the past
in pure perception we’re closer
to ourselves, to reality
simply seeing, hearing, feeling
tasting, smelling
with no space for an
interfering I
the ego is a prison
trying to escape
only reinforces the walls
you can change the decor
but still you’re in chains
until the occupant is seen
for what he is
pure illusion
then where is the prisoner
and where is the prison
the ego is like the devil
they can only exist in the
darkness of the mind
when the light shines
they’re out the back door
too embarrassed to show their faces
the sky is deep blue
jasmine fills the air
enough of all these questions
all these queries why
time to jump into life’s stream
and unencumbered
enjoy the beauty there
the sun shines
it does not choose to shine
the frog jumps
it does not choose to jump
love flows
it does not choose to flow
don’t stoke up the fire
with more grandiose illusions
don’t place more wood of day-dreaming to enflame
ignore the sparks
from the dying embers
telling yesterday’s tales
let the fire burn itself out
and feel the coolness of the ashes
that whole tale of a me
has no credibility
I’ve peered deep inside
it’s quite preposterous
I simply don’t believe a word of it any more
as that character struts across the stage
creating endless dramas
he takes himself so seriously
totally identified with his role
but I think it’s sheer comedy
as I’m trying not to laugh
too loud, at the door
eternity is in this moment
not the next
in this breath
not the next
in this expression
not some other
discover what is not born
and does not die
discover where there is no bondage
and where there is no liberation
birth, death, bondage, liberation
mind stuff
why not stand aside
get out of your own way
and let nobody do things for you
drive your car, do the shopping, pay your bills
without your hang-ups
it will do things much better
and without an interfering busybody
life will flow on smoothly
and at the end of the day
nobody sleeps like a baby
if you know whilst dreaming
you’re dreaming
what matter if the shadows
of demons cross your wall
if your boat is sinking in the sea
a tiger appears in the undergrowth
you know it’s but a dream
if you know you are the Self
what matter if the body becomes ill
your shares are in freefall
your lover takes flight
you rest untouched
forever in the Self
don’t wait to become perfect
before knowing you are perfect
don’t wait to become silent
before knowing you are the silence
don’t wait to become enlightened
before knowing you are enlightened
time is not going to take you
to the timeless
why this waiting
it’s already happened
it happened before you were born
it’s happening each moment
no, not in a parallel universe
but in front of your eyes
behind your eyes
prior to the first thought
now and always
love’s look is indiscriminate
it bathes all with the same gaze
no moment is more precious
than the next
no breath more special
than the one before
it does not choose
this or that
its fragrance envelops all
it excludes none
for all is itself
this one sees and hears only itself
celebrating forever only itself
only itself does it love
it leaves no room for otherness
and takes possession of all that is
there is no escape from this one
you may dream yourself separate
but the dream is not apart from the one
at the moment of death
there’s a saying goodbye
to all that was held dear
a closing of eyes
to all that was possessed
a laying aside
of body and mind
a falling back of the wave
into the ocean
a surrender of all
that we are not
but why postpone
this moment
there is no security in a me
it’s always crumbling at the edges
in constant need of repair
fear is the constant companion
the only security is the
dissolution of the me
silence
is beyond security
and insecurity
here is the invitation
it’s always beckoning
it’s in the air
in the birdsong
when you dive into the ocean
when you’re lost in the rhythms
of the gypsy music
when you are taken
by the eyes of another
this enticing invitation
death
death, go deep within
into the darkness
give yourself to death
let your fire burn it to ashes
there is no path to take you
any closer to me
there is no path to take you
any further away
how could there be
I abide in the Heart
sit in the Self
inhale in the Self
exhale in the Self
let the attention
rest in the Self
gold is shaped into many ornaments
yet is it not all just gold
waves form a myriad of shapes and sizes
yet they are all just water
the canvas evokes a beautiful landscape
yet it is just a mixture of paint
the film on the screen conjures up a whole story
yet it is just the play of light
the world is full of tragedies and triumphs
yet it is just the play of consciousness
when you are one of the branches of the tree
every breeze shakes you
every storm buffets you this way and that
you fear for your life
but when you become the trunk
you stay unmoved in the storm
you may feel the pull of the branches
but you are in stillness
when you are a wave in the ocean
every wind and current pushes and drags
sometimes shattering you
but when you are the depth of the ocean
what are a few gusts on the surface
you cannot become other than you are
better to take on trust from the beginning
the words of the sage
that all is gold
otherwise you may spend lifetimes
trying to convert brass into gold
a labour doomed to failure
that which is nameless and formless
knows no dust
trying to polish it
is like trying to polish the universe
perhaps you’re wasting your time
in the direct approach
the journey is negated before it begins
after all a journey would allow
you to indulge in time and space
and what would you be without
the additions of time and space
in the direct approach
there’s no time for self-improvement
and the illusions it gives you
you are up against a wall
there’s no escape
to see reality, here, now
for the divine to enter
you need to clean up your own house
open up the windows
sweep away the cobwebs
vacuum each room
clear out your basement
and chase away the ghosts
lurking in the attic
after the dust has settled
you might find
your visitor already at home
alternatively, if you’re short of time
see that there is no dust
you don’t have a home
there is no visitor
and there is no you
People spend a lifetime trying to control the mind, but to what purpose? The controller with its agenda of controlling only reinforces the centre, the I-image, that which it is trying to free itself from.
It betrays a deep distrust of life. The controller is thought, the weaver of division. Controlling the mind is setting a thief to catch a thief. It is dealing with the symptoms and not the cause. A controlled mind confined within walls is rigid, dead to the spontaneity of life. Only in understanding the nature of thought, and the mind seeing its own limits, does quietness descend. Silence is not of the mind, but ‘behind’ the mind, ever still.
there are many techniques
to stop thoughts
you can focus on the third eye
recite mantras
count each breath
until you realise nobody’s thinking
the thinker is itself just a thought
I keep myself veiled
only revealing myself to the innocent
I keep myself hidden
only to be found
by those willing to make the search
my price is not insubstantial
your life is my fee
in this game of hide and seek
the world is my reflection
the shadow will take you
to the source
the wave has the taste
of the sea
I’m not so far away
as you imagine
I’m there between each breath
but you don’t see me
I’m there between each thought
but you ignore me
I’m there when you’ve attained
your desire
but you don’t acknowledge me
I’m there in your heart
but you don’t feel my beat
I’m always in front of your eyes
but you don’t recognize me
don’t take the in-breath
let it come to you
don’t grasp the flower with your eyes
let it reveal itself to you
don’t run after truth
let it find you
don’t try to absorb the ultimate
let the ultimate absorb you
though it’s remarkably close
try as you may
/> you can never catch
the divine in your net
any more than you can scoop out
the ocean with a ladle
you can’t even approach the divine
for distance there is not
but when the mirage of separation dissolves
it’s the divine that has
scooped you up in its net
sweep out the last dust of volition
hiding in the recesses
rid yourself of the volition
trapped in your jaw
extricate the volition still
polluting your eyes
let go the volition cramping
your hands
and give yourself to the
will of the divine
there comes a time
when you have to let go
all the words
all the teaching
and trust the infinite
karma is for him who
takes himself to be an individual
for him who believes he is subject
to time and space
for him who has the notion he was born
but in the Self, crystal clear
what can karma mean
there’s not even a speck of dust
and never has been
remove everything
you know about yourself
everything objective
it is not you
only decoration
be with what remains
in the midst of a chaotic world