I move, and it is there.

I move, and it is there.

I move, and it is there.

Everywhere is movement, and all is being. Thoughts bubble up to the surface then disappear into itself, like countless vegetables bobbing in and out of sight as the soup gently boils.

The sensation in the brain is very sharp and biting this evening. Sometimes it hits like a frozen icepick, and it is all the proof one has that some kind of head exists.

Listening to the voice on the stereo, the mind gently vibrates as the words come and go. The words are understood, but they do not stick.

Listening happens, and the brain throbs in concert with what is heard.

It is not enough to hear. Listen!

Listen to the birds, the wind, your feet on the pavement. Be with it, in every moment, right to the very core of being. Walk until you lose yourself.

I have received a few similar questions over the last week. This is one of them, but captures the gist of all of them:

I’ve been reading your recent posts, and the spirituality series at Tom Stine’s blog as well. But I have a question. I have never really thought about spirituality before and wonder how I should start. I hear about meditation and mindfulness, and the things some people do for spirituality, but after reading your posts and comments, and Tom’s posts and comments, I am beginning to think that those things don’t really matter so much.

So, where do I begin? Where did you begin?

I don’t really consider that I have done the “spiritual journey” that others speak of. I think I always suspected something else was available, but could never trust that someone else could tell me what it was.

I started with doubt. It is difficult to remember now, but I guess I thought that if I didn’t rely on anything another person handed to me, I would have to see the truth eventually. But nothing changed until I became curious.

It was curiosity that really allowed me to let go of the goal. Curiosity, in its own way, eliminates the seeker. It is very subtle, but if you are truly curious, it has less to do with the outcome as it does the moment by moment exploration.

I wrote a slightly different view in another blog post.

If you decide to get into this remember:You can go here and there, listen to him and her, read this and that, but none of that really matters. In the end you have to find out for yourself, without reliance on authority.

There will be only your own tracks in the sand. But even these will be obliterated behind you.

Over at Tom Stine’s website there have been several recent articles on various aspects of spirituality, and his post, “So What is Spirituality? Really,” gave rise to this one.

If you have a look at his article, it goes into fine detail on the various definitions used for that word and how it is generally looked upon. It is a great piece and well worth the time to read. (In fact, if you have not been to his site before, there is plenty of fine material to pore over. So check it out.)

I rarely ever use the word spirituality. In any form. Why? Because it has far too many definitions based on opinion, and seems to be rendered useless by the sheer amount of choice one has. But I will use the word in a different context.

What is Spirit?

If we look into the etymology of the word, it comes from the Latin, Spiritus. This word simply means, Breath (from Spirare, which means to blow, or breathe).

I am not at all sure of the reason, but somewhere along the line someone must have thought about the “breath of life,” as the indescribable thing that gives us animation; the thing that gives us breath.

(Not that it is all important to look into the word origins to live a better life, but you would be amazed at how clear things can become, at least on an intellectual level.)

Well, What is Spirituality? Am I spiritual?

To answer the question is quite simple:

Are you breathing? Yes? Then you are spiritual.

It doesn’t require any affiliation to any special club, and you don’t have to go anywhere to get it. Hopefully this can clear out some confusion, because if someone claims they can make you more spiritual, you’ll now know they are full of it.

Look into the wholeness of your life. It is complete in every possible way already. You may think, “No it isn’t,” but what you think about this is irrelevant. Your idea of what you need keeps you from seeing that you already are.

Every animal, every plant, and each of us has this spirit. It is inseparable from daily life because it is daily life.

Rejecting the Obvious

You can try to reject the obvious; that you are already whole and complete, a perfect spiritual being; but where will that leave you? The sun will rise tomorrow, a beautiful sphere of fire, the mother of life on this earth. Reject it all you want, but it will be there for you tomorrow. It will always love you, even if you hate it, loathe it, or completely ignore it.

Don’t let yourself get in the way of the obvious. It is all so beautiful.

It is wonderful to be alone. Not lonely, which is the feeling of lack; a need for an incomplete center to reach for wholeness; but a true moment by moment discovery of what one is.

But not who one is.

The who is the story. It may be sad, grand, greedy, lustful, reckless, wanting, or any number if things, but it is a story, and the story is always imagined.

“Doesn’t one need the story? Doesn’t it give substance, or give rise to the individual?”

This who is not an individual. It is comprised of consciousness, and this consciousness we all share. All of its contents are shared between us. No, not that it is shared; we are it. All of the neuroses, compulsions, stories, sorrow, knowledge, systems, and symbols are handed to us from the multitude of persons that have come before, and it is from this that we build the shaky stories of the self.

This brick and mortar is common to all, living and dead.

(This is not good or bad, nor is it something to accept or reject. It just is what it is.)

Who - the creation of consciousness - is made up of what we believe, experience and share; handed to us from every direction, but absent from those moments of utter silence.

Pure, passionate aloneness.

A question may arise, “What is one to do?” The only thing one can do is find out for themselves. To sit alone, reject all that has been handed down, all that has come before, and see with new eyes, hear with new ears. Sit and sit and sit until that aloneness is all that remains.

It is not acceptance or rejection, but a silent allowing of things to arise as they will. Without acceptance or rejection, one has the ability to be silent, to be alone.

It is freedom without the need to be right, or the need to avoid being wrong.

Freedom from the need reveals a new dimension of silence.

Silence, as an expression of the organism, is a strange sensation. I’ll see if words can do it justice.

First, the physical body as it appears in the phenomenal world:

The feet are square on the floor. Buttocks firmly planted on the padded seat. Spine slightly arched, not touching the backrest. Hands resting on the table top. There is a slight breeze on the nape of the neck, and the eyes are closed.

The eyes close as the blood flows. The heart beats and doesn’t seem to falter. For that, one is thankful.

Now, the physical body as it is, beyond the phenomenal:

There is a tightness in the throat, and a feeling of great pressure a few inches above the forehead. It is not quite comfortable, but is easily lived with.

There are no stories, no reason, no conclusions, and no struggle. All things known - that have ever been known - are simultaneously here and not here.

Some might call it bliss, but there is no one to be blissful. Some might call it authentic happiness, but there is no one to be happy. There is no one to want for any state or result, but it is still entirely available.

All things are available at all times. Perhaps this silence just makes it jump out; a brilliant color, against an otherwise dreary background.

This is how silence came to Takuin this evening.