Nothing at All

Last night, while driving around Toyama, the emptiness was there. Looking at the night lights across the river, there was no sense of self. Thought ceased, and all that could be seen was perfect. Direct perception. All that was here was the organism, without thoughts of good or bad or right or wrong. The universe was within, and there was great energy. When thought fell away, there was no sense of negativity, and all that was left over was immense energy and pure action.

Even though I was seeing something in front of me, I was not aware of it. Things passed by, and when they passed they were gone entirely. There was no desire for anything to continue. No desire for any experience to be had. Everything had come to an end, and therefore, every moment was a beginning.

Everything at every moment is new, and experience and memory finally stay put, and only arise when needed.

This occured last night, but I am writing this the next morning. I wanted to wait to see what would be here, if anything, the day after. But the only thing here, is that immense energy and emptiness. Everything is still new at every moment. As I type, each letter appears as a new entity, something that has never been before and will never be again. Only here for an instant, fully expressing itself, and never to be seen again in the same way.

I, or rather, this organism, is still here, but everything else has gone.

I am not sure what to call this kind of seeing. Maybe, meditation. But for most people, there is some kind of action involved in meditaton. But there was no action here, in this body. This state came about on its own, without any outside desire for it to be there. Oneness? Wholeness? Perception? I'm not sure.

Takuin Minamoto