Monday, June 9, 2014
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Saturday, September 8, 2012
We cannot possibly say or express more than this. Still, This One appears clearly and is consciously known and clearly seen, though invisible while even visible. Source sees and hears invisibly and, just as Love speaks, beloved to beloved, face to face, heart and soul to heart and soul - so the One Who by nature is God speaks to and through those whom by grace It has begotten as gods, in order to reveal Itself to Itself. They in turn become the Lover Who loves so fervently that they become like mirrors in infinite reflection of each other, with not a trace of self between.
Thereupon, your heart may find itself merged in the form of an effulgent light of deep peace and radiant joy. However comforting, this light is but the prelude of the immortal and primordial light; it is the reflected brightness of Source. When this Glory appears, every selfish thought will vanish and every stricture of the soul be loosened, even as every bodily clinging is released.
The light already shines in the darkness, both by day and by night, both within and without. It shines on us without change, without alteration, without form. It speaks, works, lives, gives life, and changes into light those whom it illuminates. We bear witness that "God is light," and those to whom it has been granted to recognize this have all beheld the Lord as light.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Saturday, July 14, 2012
The wise know that there’s neither unity nor plurality – the world is neither one nor many. It's more like a virtual reality game, and we have taken our places here in these game bodies to test ourselves, to see what we are really made of deep down at the core. Whatever appears in life or vision is part of that test, to gauge what our reaction will be. We are not here to acquire some enlightenment that is not already true of us, and progress through various stages until we arrive at some exalted destination. We ourselves are the destination -- we go nowhere. There's never been a human being in need of honor, protection, and freedom. That's all props and stage sets for the game, the play of consciousness, the dream.
The external world has no existence independent of the consciousness which perceives it. Mere perception and practical utility cannot prove the reality of the world. For even in dreams there is perception and practical utility – water in a dream can quench the dream thirst as much as real water can quench real thirst. The waking state is on par with the dream state, and both are real within their own order -- that's important to recognize. But from the ultimate standpoint, both are unreal.
Reality is the pure Essence of Self – the ultimate subject, which is radiant consciousness. It is not the empirical self, because that which has empirical existence cannot be ultimately real. The real is pure consciousness, awareness itself, which is immanent in both the subject and the object and yet transcends them both. It transcends the trinity of the knower, known and knowledge. It has neither attachment nor connection nor relation to anything else. It is self-proved, self-existent, innate and uncaused. Even to say that it is the “unborn” is valid only from the empirical standpoint – for it is beyond the intellect.
The self-luminous Source, by the power of its own illusion (Maya), imagines itself by itself and it is this Self which cognizes the ephemeral diversity of the world, with all its drama and shifts and upgrades and downgrades, and so on to infinity. Just like a rope, which is mistaken for a snake, the Self is mistaken to be the individual subjects, the mental states and external objects that constitute our 3-D take on what's what. And just as when the rope is known, the imagined snake vanishes, likewise when the non-dual Self is realized, the duality of subject and object disappears.
The non-dual Self is realized when the individual self (soul) passes the tests it has established for itself in the 3-D program and is awakened from its amnesia. The Absolute is unborn, dreamless, sleepless, motionless. It's "where" all the categories of the intellect are merged, where all duality finally ceases. There’s neither going to nor coming from it. It is the "Lord" immanent in the universe, abiding in the hearts of all. It is realized by the sages who know the essence of reality, and are free from greed, envy, hatred, delusion, and attachment to any dreamy outcome arising from virtual causes and conditions.
The Absolute is like space, and souls are like space placed in containers of various sizes, shapes, and descriptions. When the bottle is broken open, the space in the container merges into the open space. Likewise, when ignorance is destroyed through direct recognition, the soul merges into Source. Spaces in bottles may differ in form, function and name, but still there’s no difference in space. Likewise though the souls may differ in form, function and name, yet still there’s no difference in Source. All elements, subjective as well as objective, are by their nature serene from the beginning, unborn and merged in the Absolute. They are so because they are nothing else than Source itself, which is unborn, uncaused -- only. In truth, there is only "This". All else is ignorance, delusion -- virtuality.
So what constitutes the "prison", this container, which is the apparent cause of our seeming bondage? The container is nothing but ignorance, including the belief that we are the body-mind organism. The test is to see through that delusion. Duality is the product of the intellect and when the intellect is transcended, duality disappears. What’s left is pure awareness, devoid of all thought determinations and imagination. It is the serene eternal Light behind the mind. It is incomprehensible bliss, which transcends happiness and misery. It is indescribable, unborn, changeless and non-dual.
If I was to cut to the bottom line, I'd say . . .
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Some might laugh at my poems but no matter --
they’re fine just as they are, and fun besides!
They need no commentary, no studious explanation,
not even any signature.
Who even cares if they're read or not --
certainly not me!
The pine just sprouts needles,
the wind just blows.
I have no literary pretense, no wordy ambition,
but still, these poems can offer a taste of light.
If you would read my poems,
prepare yourself well: be pure of mind.
Open your tight-fisted heart; flatter none
but honesty with your authentic voice.
From the bag of Self, unpack selfishness;
refolding what remains, your Buddha-body.
This is your first assignment. Do it now,
and quickly. I speak the law of what's true.
In our hearts, I'm not the same as you --
if in your heart you should become like me,
then you can reach the core of it too.
I choose to bray at the cock-eyed moon,
to dance through mountain clouds at dawn.
Why bury my hands in my sleeves,
place a lock on my tongue, tie legs in knots
and sit like a stone?
My hair flows and cascades!
Among the winding creeks and towering crags
there lives a happy hermit of a man.
In daylight he wanders freely 'round the mountain,
intoxicated by the mere existence of anything.
At night he sleeps wherever he pleases,
at home in any cave or pine needle nest.
Let all the springs and summers pass themselves,
selfless peace and serenity wrap around him
like a robe of comfy light.
What a great and indescribable pleasure -
Suchness sometimes means just sitting,
relaxing, in a cool autumn stream.
On Tien-Tai Mountain I make my home,
clouds and fog keep the tourists away.
This very life is a magic picnic
laden with oodles of bliss!
Tzon Tze said:
`The good death you are having
makes the earth and sky your coffin.'
The Unborn is prior to this world --
it has no form, health or disease.
It's the master of all things,
following nothing, at rest in all.
Climbing Cold Mountain --
the path forward never seems to end.
In the long stream there are many stones;
on either shore the grass is the same.
White clouds silently drape the hillside,
the peaks are obscured in the morning mists.
Building my hut was easy enough -- just borrowed
some light from essence of moonshine.
Wild deer make an excellent audience!
A man beyond both existence and non-existence,
I thoroughly enjoy this beautiful life!
Birth and death are just like water and ice.
Water becomes ice and ice turns to water.
There is nothing otherwise.
Living alone --
no birth, no death!
I stand on the peak, lit by bright sunshine,
gazing out at the clear blue sky.
Crane and friendly clouds fly by, beckoning me
to pick flowers down by the lovely riverbank!
We play till dusk, watch wind rising, waves rippling,
water birds lifted on wings of flight.
Afloat in this boat my mind expands --
no place to hide, essence of space!
Now the old year is gone, the spring has come.
Flowers smile at the stream, cliffs dance
playfully in clouds and mist!
Butterflies seem so glad, while
fish and birds are sporting like mad!
Our friendship is endless, I am so happy
I can no longer sleep!
How sublime is this nature --
creation with no creature therein!
The Tao is like a stream from nowhere,
yet there is water in every mouth!
I gaze far off at Cold Mountain's summit,
alone and aloft above the crowding peaks.
Pines and bamboo sing in the swaying winds,
sea tides wash beneath the shining moon.
I gaze at the mountain's green borders below
and ponder philosophy with the puff-ball clouds.
In the wilderness mountains and forests are fine, but
I yearn for my companion to delight in this Way.
Han Shan was a Chinese hermit who lived in a world called
Cold Mountainin the T'ien-t'ai Range that spans the coast of Chekiang Province, south of the , in the late eighth or early ninth century. Mostly what we know of him originates from a mysterious intuition that is shared by that which is Free in all of us, and from a preface, written by a T'ang Dynasty official named Lu-ch'iu Yin, for Han Shan's collected Cold Mountain Poems: Bayof Hangchow
"He looked like a tramp. His body and face were old and beat. Yet in every word he breathed was a meaning in line with the subtle principles of things, if only you thought of it deeply. Everything he said had a feeling of the Tao in it, profound and arcane secrets. His hat was made of birch bark, his clothes were ragged and worn out, and his shoes were wood. Thus men who have made it hide their tracks: unifying categories and interpenetrating things."
Lu-ch'iu Yin sent clean clothes and incense to Kuo-ch'ing
Temple, near , asking that the gifts be delivered to Han Shan and his friend Shih Teh. But on the approach of the messenger, Han Shan disappeared inside a mountain cave. Shih Teh vanished too. Lu-ch'iu Yin then asked the monks to collect any of the poems they left behind. Cold Mountain
Many claim that Han Shan was the incarnation of the Bodhisattva Manjusri. People say a lot of things, but Han Shan paid little mind to the opinions of dreamers and interpretations of myth-makers, choosing instead to play among the peaks and white clouds of his beloved Cold Mountain, and leave the world behind.