by Billy Doyle
is there not that which is always at peace
in the midst of ceaseless change
is there not that which is changeless
beyond all the self images
is there not the purest of the pure
perhaps in reality
there is perfection right now
what is there before the thought
and after the thought
it is not nothing, but presence, consciousness
what is there before the in-breath
and after the out-breath
it is not nothing, but presence, consciousness
what is there before you see the blackbird
and after you see the blackbird
it is not nothing, but presence, consciousness
why do we lose ourselves in the ephemeral
and forget the eternal background
oceans
horizon beyond horizon
infinite space
mind without reference
free of all frontiers
there
take your abode
no hold
no compass
no latitude or longitude
no reason why
just the dance of the ocean
the great tide
flows where it will
forest fires cannot burn it
a tsunami cannot cover it
all the concrete in China
will not compress it
a hurricane cannot blow it a centimetre
death and birth
do not sway it
the mind can never encompass it
the temple of nothingness
is not for visiting only
on a Friday or a Sunday
the god of nothingness you cannot
reduce to a form and worship
the boat of nothingness
is not going to take you anywhere
you are not already
when we reach the end of our lives
and look back, we may wonder
where did it all go
we were seldom really there
present to the moment
we were always somewhere else
escaping, fixed on some object
seeking after another mirage
running away from ourselves
all that is acquired
will be lost
all that is new
will become old
all that which was born
will die
all that which was learnt
will be forgotten
seek out only the Real
the ever present
what is this me
a bundle of yesterday’s memories
a mass of resistance to what is
a non-acceptance of the moment
a bodily contraction from the
embrace of now
a wanting to be somewhere else
dreaming of a more perfect time
a refusal of the gift in our hands
but no need to resist this me
invite it home, humour it
and when loved
can it resist any more
not a journey for the faint-hearted
not to be taken lightly
it’s going to take heart and mind
you have to be on fire with your question
no room for self-deceit
only a ruthless honesty will suffice
no time to indulge in day-dreaming
no more detours
to dismantle yourself completely
not a fragment left
to live without yesterdays
without a persona
are you willing to be nobody
it is this, here, now
but the mind would prefer
an encyclopaedia about it
than to be with the simplicity
of this message
we don’t want to hear this
we would prefer a journey
with the prospect of miraculous
experiences along the way
and to live forever in hope
than to be with this, here, now
have you noticed
nothing ever really happens
true, there’s a light show
sound show, thought show
and all that
but the screen
has it ever changed
you may cross continents
but presence is simply presence
when there is a glimpse
of our true nature
we become orientated
no longer scattered
here and there
there’s simplicity
all the iron filings
are drawn back to the core
only one question
only one teacher
only one
in the moment there is no space
for the past
in the moment there is no space
for the future
in the moment there is no space
for being a me and a you
in the moment
there’s nothing lacking
the dark muddy river
is enclosed in concrete underground
the soul is smothered beneath
the comfort of body and mind
sometimes it tries to speak to us
in the dark of the night
but is forgotten by morning
with the coming of light
the stars are all but obliterated
in our neon life
who bothers to remember the soul
though it’s all that we’ve got
the greatest joy is to be
free of the greatest burden, yourself
that ton of bricks we carry
with its labyrinth of tunnels
corridors and lines of defence
that we spend our life
crawling round like automatons
oblivious to the joy
that is the Self
silence, stillness
for the mind, boring, an enigma
like a dark cave
but explore it
go deeper into the darkness
embrace it
glimpses of light flicker
until there’s only light
nothing has ever been held back
emptiness has always been fullness
love has never kept anything for itself
nothing is missing
the well is always overflowing
only in the dream
is there a lack
after a lifetime
of struggling to know
the surprise of finding home
in not-knowing
like a return to childhood
without the child
in this not-knowing
nothing remains to be known
knowledge brings innocence
the sage is as a child
happy for no reason
his actions seem purposeless
the future and its strategies
are of no concern
he is guileless
for what does he lack
his smile melts your defences
it is born and then dies
it is not I
one day it is happy, another day sad
it is not I
it is accepted and adored
then rejected and despised
&nb
sp; it is not I
it feels rich and then
complains of being poor
it is not I
it is in health and then sickness
it is not I
without a blemish
what care I about such matters
I am no-body, no-thing
untouchable
beyond all opposites
who am I
you may look under every stone
search every nook and cranny
but you won’t find very much
just a collection of phantoms
look deeper, deeper
these disappear
leaving only transparency and space
here, if there can be a here
as at the birth of time
all is held in its potentiality
and yes, too, the expression
spread out across an infinity
and yet in all this
not a wave of a mine or a yours
in this borderless expanse
be detached from the world
and be detached from
him who would be detached
and be detached
from detachment
stack the funeral pyre high
for the cremation of the me
to burn to ash the illusion
the sacred wood is knowledge
there is nothing to obtain
all progress belongs to an object
all directions are the wrong directions
dreams are but dreams
don’t mourn the passing
it was its deepest wish
it had no more reality
than the wafting smoke
joy needs no cause or excuse
any more than the sun
needs a reason to shine
it is our essence
that’s why we all seek it
but it is us that pull the blinds
when it does visit unexpectedly
do not look for a reason
we were simply open
and not pulling the blinds
what you are needs no embellishment
there is no place to hang earrings
there is no face to paint
nothing needs to be added or subtracted
gilding this lily only buries it
its joy is its nakedness
free of man and woman, you and me
free of the drapery
of high office or low office
it needs no formulation
it shines of itself
you would like to give up
all you are not
the insanity of individuality
piece by piece
but there’s always another
subtlety lurking below
the real giving up
is seeing that there
is nobody to give up anything
wisdom is understanding
the nature of subject and object
that I am the ultimate subject
and the body, senses and mind
and hence the world
are my objects
and then to go one step further
and see the apparent subject
and the apparent object
are one
there is only this
there is no other shore
but this shore
there is no other consciousness
but this consciousness
there is no other enlightenment
but this enlightenment
there is no other to become
but what I am
one step away
and I’m already lost
there is only this
what you are is non-conceptual
it is prior to the conceptual
so you cannot possibly think it
the mind is not the appropriate tool
it is clarity itself
and nothing you can do
or say about it
try as you may
the moon has no light of its own
it borrows its light
from the sun
the body-mind has no light
of its own
it is borrowed from consciousness
you are the light
that illuminates all that is
peace is not the peace
you feel at the end of the day
silence is not the silence
when the noise stops, or a thought ceases
beauty is not
the beauty in the sunset
peace, silence, beauty
have never come into being
and have never departed
nothing can destroy
for they are not of time
thoughts come and go
in the vastness
feelings come and go
in the vastness
bird song comes and goes
in the vastness
all are but ripples
in the vastness
do not go to the temple
leave not your home
do not climb the holy mountain
leave not your home
do not wander along
the path to some nirvana
leave not your home
enough of all this acquiring and seeking
leave not your home
for the seeker is the sought
leave not your home
that which you seek
is not to be found
it is much too close to touch
much too close to see
it is the touching
it is the seeing
there are not two
or some other
the necklace you thought was missing
is still around your neck
the usurper of the Self
would like to prolong its reign
even beyond the grave
so for its comfort
and for the continuation
of the story of a me
it consoles itself with reincarnation
but if we really lived the moment
would we be imagining
some other body, some other time
or even tomorrow
it’s but name and form
chaff in the wind
why run after the dust
when you stand on the bedrock
it’s but name and form
it dies with the blink of an eye
the plaything of time and space
but the continuum
the eternal melody
is beyond all sense
if there is a path to understanding
that path is silence
all arises out of silence
and through silence
we make our journey back
in silence there’s no hold for the mind
all fabrication of the me comes to rest
the words of the sage
are bathed in silence
but we have to let their form dissolve
to let them take us from whence they came
no one can possess silence
it possesses all
silence does not come and go
you do not experience silence
it is not an object
it is the experiencing
silence has no opposite
for all is its expression
it is the eternal background
t
he homeground
Consciousness, there is no looking for, no possibility of experiencing, because you can only experience what is outside yourself, an object, phenomena. It is because you are so deeply anchored, inseparable from consciousness, the noumenon, you cannot experience it, it has no otherness you could experience. Otherwise it would not be consciousness but another object of consciousness. Not for a moment could you stand outside and look back at consciousness. There are not two.
Atmananda Krishna Menon said, ‘You feel it without feeling it.’ Jean Klein would often say, ‘The eye cannot see its own seeing.’
the silence
that is unrecognizable
leaves no footprint in the sand
not a trace of yesterday
yet knows itself
sees all, and is all seen
it leaves no signature
emptiness walks through emptiness
with no memory of itself
a vigil for the Self
long into the night
waiting without expectation
what might I be
no answer was forthcoming
but the question was no more
nothing was missing
the silence was home
follow the language
that has no letters, no words
that nobody can speak
that nobody can hear
listen deeply
be open to it
let it embrace you
it is only this language
that will take you
to the secret garden
THE MIRAGE OF SEPARATION
