by Billy Doyle
The Mirage
of Separation
THE MIRAGE
OF SEPARATION
Billy Doyle
Non-Duality Press
First published March 2008 by Non-Duality Press
© Billy Doyle 2008
Billy Doyle has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as author of this work.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the Publishers.
Typeset in Dante 12/16 & Syntax 11/16
Cover image: Landscape by Sesshu Toyo, Tokyo National Museum
Non-Duality Press, Salisbury, SP2 8JP United Kingdom.
ISBN 978-0-9558290-0-0
www.non-dualitybooks.com
“When you step back from stressing the parts, when the mind becomes still, the rose comes to you, unfolds in you in all her glory.
The perfume invades you completely. The rose is you. You are one.”
Jean Klein
Introduction
These writings come from a non-dualistic perspective. Our focus is on the nature of our real identity. Until we come to know it, we are lost in a world of ignorance.
Our basic mistake, and from which all other mistakes arise, is to identify ourselves with an object: the body-mind.
In doing so we lose sight of our true nature, conscious-ness, pure awareness, taking ourselves to be an expression of life, rather than life itself. Thereby we become engrossed in the world of a personalised I; it is this pseudo-I that usurps our real identity.
This I-image, the ego, is no more than a collection of shifting ideas and experiences, with no independent reality. In taking ourselves to be a separate entity we have come adrift from our homeground, and inevitably fear and desire arise. In compensation we pursue happiness and security and try to escape pain and sorrow.
It is only when we understand the illusionary nature of this projection that we become open to our real nature, that which is beyond the mind.
The Self is not something new to be attained, for it ever is; it has only to be recognized.
However we can never know the Self as we would an object, for it is the ultimate knower, neither perceivable, nor conceivable; we can only be it. Its nature is self-luminous.
Billy Doyle
January 2008
Index of first lines
The Mirage of Separation
there was life
then there was life
and somebody living life
then there was life
but nobody living life
then there was life
can I live with the question
never touching it
waiting for the sun to rise
not anticipating the colours
living in this not-knowing
waiting for the inhalation
dissolving with the exhalation
letting the question take its form
letting the answer say what it must
the great understanding
is that you can never understand
the great relief of seeing
no matter how hard I try
I can never understand
I have to leave it to it
that is the understanding
the mind can never take you
to the understanding
but the heart already knows
the fool says
I have understood
but when understanding takes place
there is no one left to say
I have understood
in truth there is
nothing to understand
and there is nobody
to understand it
time is not
where is time when you’re not thinking
or in deep sleep
the past, memory, is just a present thought
the future, also a present thought
the present moment, illusive
the instant you try to grasp it, it’s gone
there’s only the timeless present
the eternal now
you say the journey needs time
but who needs time
inventing time is itself the problem
be free of time and its inventor
rest in the eternal
where time does not encroach
we’re invited to sit at the king’s table
and worried whether we will eat today
we stand in front of the divine
and talk of the power we experienced at a shrine
we stand in the divine
and discuss how we can find it
we are the very Self
and ask what practice to do to attain it
what comedy do we have here
on hearing the fish in the water
was thirsty, Kabir laughed
if the nightingale asks me for instruction
how to sing, what am I to say
if I visit you in your home
and you tell me you’re not there
how am I to believe you
if the Self says it does not know the Self
what deceit is this
the Self cannot be other than the Self
even if it tries to masquerade as the fool
the sunlight cannot penetrate through
the thick foliage of the jungle
reality cannot penetrate the
thick layers of our defence
let go your resistance
drop your shoulders
and let yourself breathe
put away your armour
and give the light just a chance
to see the orchid
you need to get off the express train
simplify your life
stop day-dreaming
take a retreat from the I-concept
and the paraphernalia
of trying to be somebody
then see what’s in front of your eyes
Proprietor:Can I help you?
Customer:What can I get here?
Proprietor:There is nothing to get,
but tell me what you are looking for.
Customer:Peace, happiness.
Proprietor:There are no promises here,
we have no carrots and no sugar lumps.
Customer:So what’s the deal?
Proprietor:You have to give everything
and expect nothing.
Are you still interested?
Customer:That’s why I’ve come, the enticements of the world have proved hollow.
But what must I pay?
Proprietor:You have to pay with your dreams,
fantasies, images, every vanity,
your past, your future, and every
last cent.
Customer:It sounds very reasonable, but do I not get to keep anything?
Proprietor:If you still want to keep
something you’ve come
to the wrong establishment.
These are our strict regulations.
Customer:So what will be left?
Proprietor:Why do you ask me such a question?
Are you not finished with the toys of the phenomenal world? All
that is unreal will be taken away from you. What remains you’ll have to wait and see.
But perhaps you should go to the
establishment down the road; they have a three-year course with a recognised certificate at the end.
Customer: No, no, I have a drawer full.
But could I think about it and come back tomorrow?
Proprietor:We don’t do tomorrows.
There is no time.
There is only now.
the ego seems to take on
a life of its own
and like the devil
likes to play tricks
what to do with this slippery customer
who craves attention
best ignore it
and enjoy your cup of tea
the little I that has taken
up residence inside the head
likes to appropriate everything for itself
only seeing from its blinkered standpoint
claiming to be the doer and thinker
the enjoyer and sufferer
only in the clear light of day
is it seen for what it is
the usurper of the Self
and vanquished to dust
what you really desire is me
you may think it is that new car
but what you really desire is me
you may think it is that other woman
but what you really desire is me
you may play fast and loose
but I know what you really want is me
one day when you’ve had your fun
you’ll just have to admit it
what you really desire is me
desire is a black hole
impossible to fill
nothing in space and time
can satiate its appetite
it devours everything
and still seeks for more
only that beyond space and time
fulfills its longing
and leaves it desireless
when you’ve gone to the
four corners of the earth
searched under every stone
had lovers throughout the seven seas
explored the eleven dimensions
spoken to all the wise beings
it’s time to come home
and sit by your own fire
and see what you’ve never seen
just waiting for you
bring back your centre of gravity
scattered over the four winds
enticed by every fickle
promise of the world
and let it embed itself
in the only reality
why do we impose
form on the formless
make words of that
which is silence
why localize that
which is non-localized
why reduce to a little me
that which is the vastness
why capture the bird that
soars in the skies
and enclose it in a cage
when you take yourself
to be with form
you will see the other
also with form
and project deities possessing form
when you have understood
you are formless
what “other” can there be
and “who” is there to see “them”
when you use the word I
let it be free of all images
let it be free of I am this, I am that
when you use the word I
let it be free of yesterday and tomorrow
let it reside in timelessness
let it resonate in space
without any border
without any centre
let all the small ‘I’s dissolve back into it
do not try to grasp or touch it with the mind
for it is always beyond, and yet closer
this I, you can only be
pure subjectivity
non-differentiation
don’t clutter beauty
with personal pronouns
form is an expression of the formless
time is an expression of the timeless
words are an expression of the wordless
all that is perceived
is within the perceiver
so why emphasise the outer
forgetting the inner
let form come back to the formless
let time come back to the timeless
let words come back to the wordless
let the perception come back
to the perceiving
let all rest
in its homeground
after eliminating each layer
that you are not
body, senses, mind
and arriving at nothing
don’t stop there, proceed
and eliminate the nothing
in the Self
there is neither Arab or Jew
black or white
Hutu or Tutsi
high caste or low caste
male or female
remove the coat of paint
and only consciousness is revealed
the Self only sees the Self
the scent of the rose
is not in the flower
it is in you
the sound of the Beethoven quartet
is not in the instruments
it is in you
the taste of the mango
is not in your mouth
it is in you
the poem
is not on the page
it is in you
the sunset
is not in the sky
it is in you
meditation
a practice no one can practise
abandoning all hope
free of a doer
no intention or goal
accepting and surrendering
all that arises
going nowhere
for where would one go
and who is there to go
giving all to the moment
the moment that cannot be thought
not knowing, not knowing, not knowing
there is not
when the clay pot breaks
where is the space inside and outside
where is the you and the me
the here and there
the rising and the setting
the day and the night
the pure and the impure
there is not
volition is the devil
makes you think you can attain
but the ultimate is not
to be attained
all volition ensnares you
deeper into the black pit of illusion
thinking you’ve achieved something
your compassion for the world is admirable
but where is the compassion for the Self
smothered beneath a mountain of concepts
it can barely breathe
see through the illusion
of being a separate entity
of being I am this, I am that
and let the Self breathe forth
fighting the ego is a great battle
that monster from the underworld
every minute you must be vigilant
and ready to take up sword
but does the creature really exist
have the sightings been verified
&
nbsp; are they any more than your thoughts
are you not wrestling with a phantom
where is the ego
when you’re not inventing it
the ego is as sticky as glue
all the debris collects round it
producing karmic layering
burying you deep in your individuality
but to the Self nothing can cling
being nothing, insults pass unregistered
praise, adulation likewise
nothing invades sacred space
for there is nothing outside
and nothing to defend
the winds of thought
puff up the sails of the ego
and blow you hither and thither
from crest to trough
from pleasure to pain
but if you just observe
these thoughts with disinterest
they will subside
and the sails of the ego
will go slack
and you will be
one with the ocean
not the faintest whiff of objectivity
not a speck of its corrosive dust
no-thing to touch or see
and no-body touching or seeing
where past and future
have no echo
no borders, only I
Maybe you know this story:
There was once a fish called Agonda
that heard of this marvellous thing called water.
It went on a long search from ocean to ocean
asking many a wise fish where water was to be found. After years of fruitless journeys and much misleading advice, Agonda was discussing her plight with a rather ordinary-looking fish she met by some rocks. It told Agonda:
