When sky opens blue

 When the sky opens blue, no other than Self. Just as plain as any ordinary day, every day as ordinary Self, no expression other than this, self-expression of the hum of being. What a Friend! this no-self Self, this Nothing, the best friend I’ve ever had.  The great Friend, is never far, in fact, always right here, closer than the phone in my pocket, closer than breath, closer than the blood that moves through veins, closer than the marrow of bone, more accessible than any thought or idea. Just laughter and dancing, these songs of Dharma. Nothing to put a put a finger on, no finger, Self alone. Don’t say it shines radiantly, don’t say it radiates anything at all. Nothing to distinguish it. The undistinguished one. One, only this. Nothing to contrast It. No light and no shadow. A floating dream arrives Nowhere, dissolves into Nothing. Seen through and No desires whatsoever. The sense world is burning, full of the fires of lust, anger, greed. This is maya, delusion. Seen through it becomes none other than laughter, laughing itself into Oblivion of Self, then fire becomes joy and bliss in the nervous system, which does not exist, except in the no-dream of Self.

 

Where have I wandered? What strange land is this? No one here to say anything, hence these words never arrive at anything. Even these words, hang like phantoms in the air, here one minute and then they are gone, gone, gone beyond, to where there are no mouths, no brain, no animation of being, Nothing at all, this and only this, forever, timeless, adhering to Nothing, Nothing to adhere to, no other than this, just this. How can it be said to have come into existence? Existence just a dream. The dreamer of self-created-dream-world, comes into being by fantasy alone, extinguished when awakened, then no dream, no dreamer, no dream-world, no creation, nothing what-so-ever. Only this. Even this must go. Nothing. Words only point. Peer into the projectionless film of Self. The mirror only reflects, becomes spotless, disappears when nothing projected on it. Be for yourself prior to the animation of dream-world-maya-samsara mirror and everything vanishes.

 

Then the bliss takes hold. When laughter has gotten ahold of you, you’re good for nothing.

 

Born into a prison that does not exist. This prison is mind. Mind takes hold of you when you are born into body-mind. The world around you affirmed this body-mind to be real so much so they even gave you your own name, status, beliefs. You were programmed before you had a chance to know otherwise, that you never existed, that your birth was no-birth. Your mind no-mind. Mind struggles to free itself from mind-prison. Struggles and suffers and causes so much pain for itself. This of course is the dream world suffering. Real Self untouched from such experiences. Still, they appear real on the mirror of mind and our belief in them solidifies their existence in our lives.

 

Then Grace moves. How this happens is a Great Mystery. Effort to free ourselves from the prison of mind makes mind tired, worn out, and fatigued. This is the only thing our effort was good for. Tired mind is more easily dropped, the spaces of Silence becoming longer, the duration between breaths extending, everything slowing down now. By Grace we may come upon a practice like self-inquiry. We begin to inquire into this mind-prison-self. Who? Who is there? Mind slows down. Slowly the inquiry begins to poke holes in the false projection of mind. The mind not standing up well under the inquiry. Grace begins to stream through these holes in false self. Glimpses of freedom now. Tastes of bliss here and there. We may be led to a Teacher now. Again, the Mystery of Grace. Then you are told no effort necessary. Just shut the fuck up and relax. Sink deep into your own feeling sense of self. Look for anything there you may be able to point to as you. Nothing, huh? Keep looking. Still nothing? Keep going, dropping deeper. No more person, go prior to personhood. Nowhere. Nothing. Further, still nothing. A burst of laughter. Mind is nothing but a prankster. No one to search for. No dream world to escape. Only Silence. Where did mind go? Did it ever exist? Now the questions are less important. They are asked with a chuckle, knowing no answer can be given. No truth in any of this now. Does the bliss come out of the emptiness or does the emptiness come out of the bliss? Just a chuckle now. No one here. Empty and void and beyond Happy.