A sense of me
“we tried our best to preserve that illusion
because we knew no one else would ever
understand the way we really are, nor did we
expect them
to.” — from the poem empties by Charles Bukowski
We’re born into this world free.
Free of:
being
knowing
seeking
and wanting to be something.
Of course, this is pure conjecture, unless you can remember those first few weeks and months.
And then it starts up: our self-identification with the me, the I and the contracted sense of ‘self’.
Before you know it, there is a separation between everything that is — i.e. just this unbounded freedom — and us.
Dualism, by any other name.
And that always sets up a sense of lack which we try to cure through hedonism, psychotherapy, guru worship (which includes religion) and even, for some, a search for a higher realm (think of The Master Game by Robert S. de Ropp — still a great book for those that like that sort of thing).
Imagine though — and you really do have let go of all beliefs, ideas and thoughts at this stage — that there existed (not that it’s a thing to covet) emptiness appearing as fullness, the uncaused appearing as the caused and subject appearing as object. That would mean, and don’t laugh, there’d be no you, me or I to perceive or understand anything, save that whatever you were doing, how you were expressed and whatever you thought this all meant would be part of the great cosmic dance — unbounded energy without meaning or purpose.
But this is risible, right!
To disappear completely — or at least the separate self.
But this is what a lot of so-called teachers would have you believe. Try hard enough, or don’t try at all (two sides of the same coin) and everything will fall away.
Good luck.
Fingers crossed.
I wish you well with your search.
Truth is, there is no template, scheme or process to what I’m trying to describe. Words, in fact, can’t touch this is-ness.
And that feels as perfect as everything else and will always subsist whilst we remain trapped in our dualistic compass of the world.
Blessings,
Julian