Emptiness, Beside Itself

A conversation with another, is a conversation with oneself.

Two Chairs

How to describe something, That cannot be described... Maybe there is a way to point to it?

That is the only thing, - The Pointing - But afterward, It is out of our hands.

We cannot really influence the listener, To be free with the words. Most will make something out of it, Another thing to have or build up to.

All we can do is talk, Or write, Or whatever.

It's the hardest thing, To NOT have something to have, Or build up to. I wonder if it's, A necessary process?

When seen from the eyes the doer, The one using force to create, Existing to build up and have more, Perhaps, yes.

But we can't say for sure.

People going through a process always say, "We all have to go through the process."

We should be suspicious.

Some have said, People who hit enlightenment 'out of the blue,' Like Ramana Maharshi, Did the tedious work in a previous life.

That we can never know.

There are many explanations, And none of them quench our thirst.

Perhaps they are not past lives, Living in a past time, Doing things, In a different body, As we've been told.

Perhaps it is some bizarre remnant of memory, Passed down through the genetic codes of our ancestors. We can't really say either way.

I have talked to many about past lives, They absolutely believe in them. But if this concern over past lives is important, Why do we remain so dull and violent?

It may turn out, The talk of past lives, Is absolutely right. But so what? Will it really make a change, For human beings?

Most likely, Things will go on, As they always have.

That we can never know.

It is a mental exercise.

People who are miserable, And do terrible things, Don't really have a choice. They lack the power, To do anything else.

Perhaps they do not realize, There is something other than, Their way of life?

It is such a closed way of living. The sphere of their 'personal' consciousness is such, There may never be a way out for them.

We could say 'closed mind,' But it is not quite that. For whatever reason, For them, The capability is not there.

We can't say it will NEVER change, Because there is no way to know.

I had anger and rage, And fear and all that, And i knew it was wrong, But i kept doing hurtful things. The power to change, Just wasn't there.

The 'person,' Can change over time. One can go from terrible, To loving.

The self can make changes, In its outward 'appearance.' These things can take time.

But what if there was never a person there?

People can change, From this to that. If we analyze it, After the fact, We can see a progression.

One can live a wonderful life, Making conscious changes, To their personality, To the self, Or whatever.

But some beings, For whatever reason, Skip beyond all of that, To a kind of no man's land, Where the very idea, Of a separate person, Is just so odd, So unbelievable.

There is just no way to see it, As a possibility within oneself.

And in that nothingness, There is no time or progression, As we mentioned residing, Within the self.

No self-development, No becoming, No someday I'll be, None of that.

Then others come along, - other selves - And decide they want to have, Capture and own, That nothingness, And they try to progress up to it.

In the end I suppose, If one is there, They will have no way of knowing, If anything they did to achieve, Was at all helpful.

The whole teaching of no-self, is frustrating to be honest. What about those, Who've never heard of all this? They're not making any effort.

We are told, We have to do this or that, To be free.

But what of the person, With no access, To that 'knowledge'? Are they doomed, To live terrible lives?


They just live, According to what, They are born with.

That is all any of us can do.

Of all the teachings you've studied, Did it solve problems for you? Or did you have to look, Seeking it out, For yourself?

We all begin, With the same material. We are all born, With the same stuff.

It might seem we lack, Compared to others, But this is only a shadow, Of the outer world, The physical, The phenomenal.

Freedom is here, Available to anyone, At any time, And it does not depend, On anything outside of us.

There might be a time, When one is not aware, They are not aware. Maybe it is helpful to hear, "Have a look over there for a bit." But i am not convinced, It is necessary.

If there is some inner turmoil, We usually run outwardly, For a solution. But the solution is here, Not there.

It is the turmoil that best teaches us...

But how do we know, The turmoil is a teacher, If no one has told us?

We rely too heavily, On the 'people who know.' We cannot take a step on our own, For fear of doing something wrong.

Certainly, It has to start somewhere, But if one lives a completely selfish life, It may be impossible, To see it clearly.

It might take an event, Life changing, Destroying everything one holds dear. Unable to cope, One might kill themselves, Or hide, running in-to a bottle.

Or they can take a stand, Resolving to see it through, To the very end.

It is not easy.

Turmoil, Greed, Envy, Jealousy, Or whatever it might be. We run.

We run to the person that can help, Or attack outwardly the object, We hold responsible, For our pain.

Or we simply run away.

But why do we never say, "For the love of God, I am going to see this thing, For what it is, And find out at last, if it has any power over me."

This teaching is within all of us. It calls to us constantly, Like the Sirens on the rocks. But we have plugged our ears with beeswax.