The Incandescence of Being

‘Wharfedale’ – John Atkinson Grimshaw, 1872 – WikiArt

Spirituality is not a contest. It is not in achieving something, and knowing myself is not about aggrandising what I am. It is not in holding on to an idea, be it a most noble one. It is not in perfecting my being. ‘I am’ is self-sufficient and already fully realised. Any desire for perfection or achievement will keep you at the level of a self. You won’t have let go of yourself. You won’t have fully opened the door, will have kept a space which is but an escape or exit out of your primal being — the death that it implies. It is always tempting to not let what is be, to keep colouring our essence, to still want to hold a share, a participation, a glory, an advantage. Somewhat, our desire to be something prevents us to just notice and be that which we are already, without a single addition to it — not even a last little perfecting, not even a criticism or the rectifying of something, not the desire for more freedom or less ego, nothing to compare or compete with, nothing at all. Otherwise we remain just a part longing for the One, and therefore keeping it as an object to be attained, and rendering ourself separate or insufficient just as we are. There is no comparing what is. There is no arguing with the One. So just allow yourself to be, with nothing else behind it. Let go of all that you are, or should be, or will be, in an instant, with not even a second look. Enter where you have never ceased to be, and finally come to be what you are, just as you are. Daring that — to make no further step, to cease wanting anything, to give your last breath and descend into your utmost, pristine being. For there is no ascending being, but simply recognising that being — such as it is — is all there is to myself.

You see: all the spiritual practices, all the teachings, and the long hours of meditation, are only here in the waiting of something very simple to happen. They are here to help you realise that you have it already, that you have already arrived where you want to be, that you already bask in the peace and happiness you covet, and have been trying to secure in a thousand useless, pointless ways. So really, the spiritual endeavour is nothing at all. It is the simple retirement or returning into your essential am-ness, just as it is now, right in the middle of your agony. Why is it such a tedious task: to arrive at last where you are, to be what you are already being, and accept to receive what has already been given to you? The very presence or intimacy in which you are spending your hours and days is all the light you need, and contains all the understanding that you have been striving to possess year after year. And this treasure of life isn’t even wrapped or hidden. It was there all along with you and as you, open and thriving as the very being with which you are now living your present day confusion and suffering. You have been all the way showered by its thousand glorious alleluias, while imagining yourself as deaf and blind. So don’t think that this cannot be enough — what you are. It has all been nicely packed for you, right at this moment, just as you are, offered to your noticing. So don’t keep pushing, adding, expecting. We are far too zealous. Remember that anything you may see, hear, feel, think, is contained in one essential and pristine matrix of being. This matrix is this big light of knowing that we must learn to recognise as our very self, before any sense of time, space, world, perception, quality, or doing, is added to it. We just need a little look — to precise our vision — and we may see, just now, just here, in this present experience, that all the passing objects of our life are but the colouring of an incandescence. This incandescence is our being, and our very self.

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Text by Alain Joly

Painting by John Atkinson Grimshaw (1836-1893)

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Website:
– John Atkinson Grimshaw (Wikipedia)

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