‘Mist. Autumn.’ – Isaac Levitan, 1899 – WikiArt
There is a time in our life experience, when we come to understand what this complex arrangement of thinking, seeing, hearing, touching, tasting, smelling is all about. The source of it all. What it comes down to be, in essence, in feeling — the simplicity of it. It all starts there, from feeling. When we have the feeling, life flows with an intrinsic harmony. When we have the love, sentiments and actions take their right place. Every experience draws its best colours from this primordial feeling of being. It all flows down from that storm of aliveness which is our true nature.
The moment of understanding is when the teaching, the path, the ‘how’, the description, the words, reveal their redundancy and are stopped in their course. When the doing recedes and leaves its place to simply and naturally being. When we cease being a person and recognise our nature as the infinite nature of everything. The words are not here to teach us a new skill, or even develop it. They only come to provoke. They form to enjoin us to look and notice what is already here, fully alive and vibrant — the final word behind our being human.
At the time of creation, a composer is singing or playing his music first in his mind, and then writes it down. Our understanding proceeds on the same line. Truth comes first. It is played, tasted, lived in and as our own being, and the teaching, the words come to only confirm it, to give it the solemn acquiescence of wisdom, or provide the map of the land before us, of which we now espouse the very ground. It is all a question of feeling. Truth is truth-feeling, visiting the land, smelling its atmosphere, merging with its fuming ground, where we are given the grace to taste of the unity of being.
Truth is that which is here before the passing events, below the ups and downs of existence, encompassing everything that forms at the periphery of ourself. Truth is the beauty that our eye or ear seem to catch, but which is in fact within our soul, in our inside, our essence, our being. Truth is only about feeling being, then, and only then, are we gifted with thinking, seeing, hearing, touching, tasting, smelling — all the world that forms and makes our experience, and is like the flower of our essence. In the accomplishment of truth, we embellish the world with our being.
The feeling of being is the crowning point of our experience. It is lacking when there is the illusion of our being a self contained within the limits of our body-mind. It escapes us when we exclude the world and take it to be outside our own person. But being is hiding in plain sight. In fact, experience itself, in its totality, is but the feeling of being. There is no experience without first feeling being. The feeling of being is our foremost experience. Yet in a tragic and absurd way, experience itself has been the one concealing that. All it contains of beliefs, identifications, and imaginations, is preventing our being to be felt, and the fragrance of life to be enjoyed. We have hidden this simple fact from our own self: that we may be nothing more than the feeling of being. All else is only added to make a good story.
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Text by Alain Joly
Painting by Isaac Levitan (1860-1900)
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Website:
– Isaac Levitan (Wikipedia)
Suggestion:
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