The Coveted Jewel

‘Meera and Krishna’ – City Palace Museum, Udaipur – Wikimedia

With god, or with our utmost being, one shouldn’t be too clinical. Presence is better seen, better felt, as our beloved. That’s how you have truth nearer, when you’re in love with it, and want to bring it close, so very close to you. Because its most intimate essence is not at a distance from you, but has merged in you, and as you, from the eternal now, so that you could remember him on all occasions, and feel her, feel him, as the very core of your eternal being. So your beloved is already hugging you, forever holding you in its infinite, most loving embrace. That’s where you draw your unabated search from, for who wouldn’t do anything, anything at all, to seek to reunite with the love of his life. And how could you not cross the most ruthless torrent to marry the intimate essence of her wondrous being. So go through love. Seek her in your tender heart, where she has been aching for your presence. Look for him in your innermost bosom, where only he longs to surrender. And feel the pang of separation, for it is itself the pathway to your beloved.

And there is more to it: love is uncompromising. So you won’t fancy being separated, won’t like finding yourself away from the warmth of your beloved. So your gaze will never wander far and away from your lover’s tender eyes. And you won’t find difficult to spot her even in the wildest display of experiences and activities, where objects come to assail you. You won’t be easily seduced by another than your beloved, for who would want to leave the bliss of a shared love for the chill contained in seeking an outside pleasure, far so far away from your lover’s beating heart. But be careful now, for this love for the beloved is a unique love. Beware! You can never love your loved one as an other. Love is indivisible. The love you feel is always only the expression of your own silent being. So you will have to let your lover go, not because you separate from her, but rather because you merge your being with his being, and in so doing become one being. This one beingness of the lover and the beloved is the truth of eternal love. Love cannot be split in two, and the love you feel for the beloved — for any beloved — doesn’t belong to you. Love is a burning flame that consumes itself into itself. For there is always ever one mind, one love, one being, regardless of the number of apparent lovers. This is what makes love the most coveted jewel of our lives. Because you disappear, and in that disappearing, you find your gorgeous, luminous, infinite self.

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Text by Alain Joly

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A Gorgeous Feeling

Have you ever tried being yourself? Being me is the most valuable experience one can have. But most of the time, we are not being ourself, we don’t know what it feels to simply be me. We are being anything but me. We are being our thoughts that haven’t asked for this, that were just passing by, and never solicited our identifying with them in such unreasonable proportions. We are being our so-called material body that limits us all the time, even more so when growing older. We are being our identifications, our justifications, our longings and stubborn desires, our most hideous feelings, but never do we simply stop and remain with the gentle expression contained in simply being me and nothing else. We are being our attachments to fear, worry, hope, security, avoidance. We love them and forget ourself in them. And we are being our beliefs, all kinds of them — endless expressions of them — especially the ones which tell us that we are separate from everyone and everything around us. These are the worst ones, rendering us sad, lonely, insecure, suffering from not simply and courageously being ourself. ‘Being me’ is being crushed under the weight of it all.

The feeling of being myself doesn’t come from our various experiences, qualities, memories. These may be feeding our conceptual idea of ourself, yet our formidable inner state of corruption makes us believe that we are them, that this is what ‘being me’ is: to be caught in a forest of objective experiences, to be coloured by their endless expressions, and to be filled by the dark shades contained in them. But the feeling of being me is not located there. It is not coming from any particular. On the contrary, it derives its gorgeousness from its being whole, unstained, unqualified, unconditioned. We owe this feeling of ‘I am myself’ to the pure, simple, hidden reality of awareness. ‘Being me’ is like a sumptuous light that is intimately connected to our deepest reality, and is teeming with beauty and simplicity. Let’s imagine a life where I would be me all the time, with clarity. The feeling of it all. Being me. Being me being all there is. Being me being not anything in particular. Being me being the essence of life — its most intimate and gorgeous component — common to all beings and all things. Being me is the purest expression of ourself, the jewel contained in every possible experience, but which is felt only when being independent from every such experiences, while containing them all. All beings ought to be feeling that very quintessential feeling of ‘being me’, that gorgeous self which was prepared for us all, and which we have longed for again, and again, and again. In fact, it is as simple as this: finally being me — who I am — and that is that.

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Text and photo by Alain Joly

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A Trail of Glory

‘The River of Light’ – Frederic Edwin Church, 1877 – WikiArt

If you happen to feel your being one day, don’t let it go out of sight. Follow it everywhere it is. Let it be your only guide. Be gently intoxicated by it, by yourself, by who you are, truly, when you have relinquished this obsession of being a body, and a mind. This is your one and only duty, to stay there, with being, to abide in it, and let yourself be moved by its unmoving current. Don’t go off at a tangent. Don’t take a single step, unless you have with you, as you, this being that you are, and that you could crush at any time, with the single thought that you have your own, separate being. Remember it to be your ultimate identity, the widest circle of your self, without any border, limitless, unfettered by any condition whatsoever.

Feel it in you, as being you, when you go to apparent places. Being tends to stay at home and let your body do the moving. For being never goes anywhere — it is not the travelling type. This is how you can simply go to buy some bread in your street and live a captivating adventure, or explore the farthermost recesses of the earth while feeling quietly at home. Feel that you as being are housing the world, that being is the landscape in which your life is taking place. So be only concerned with the landscape and life will then flow of its own accord. Don’t start believing that you have a life of your own. That’s only the prerogative of the suffering self. No life can be lived happily with an architecture or a design outside being.

And remember that being is a love affair. A renouncing of your own limited self, for a marriage with the beloved truth of your being. A free, princely, bounteous bowing to the infinite. So don’t start making an effort to be, for any effort is an attempt from the part of a belief to reassess its position as a distant, separate, other being. That’s how your nature becomes unseen, when you have replaced it with your own fake one, with your own invented self. For being never hides, if you don’t let it disappear under the weight of your seeking it, of your being somebody that is lacking. So don’t let your being escape you. Don’t lose its trail of joy and glory. Don’t be the one fleeing, running away, desiring to be yourself, by yourself, and then seeking to bring yourself back to the happiness that you have lost, in so many, so many immoderate, superfluous, inappropriate ways. Seek your bliss in being — where it only lies.

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Text by Alain Joly

Painting by Frederic Edwin Church (1826-1900)

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Website:
Frederic Edwin Church (Wikipedia)

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A Light to Yourself

‘The Sun’ – Edvard Munch, 1911-16 – WikiArt

There will come a time when words will slow you down. When you will want to explore yourself on your own, without the help of a book or a teacher, free from explanation or guidance. You will want to follow your own trajectory, to be a grownup, and experience your beloved, impersonal, undivided self by yourself and through yourself. You will want, as Krishnamurti said, to “be a light to yourself“. You will find your own security there, in this light, at the source of your transparency, where you will find no division from where to be insecure. You will find your happiness bubbling from your infinite being, where no self can be located, and therefore no suffering. And you will be under the authority of your own being, that will show you the way, through a door eternally open and inviting. You will be on an eternal visit of yourself. And you will meditate, not to reach who you are, not to get there, but to rejoice in it, and give your whole attention to your beloved — though you already have her, have him, all day, on all occasions, near you, close, so very close to you. And you will feel her love as being so fully yours, that you will need no incentive, no set hours, to be being her own being. And you will see around you, and within you, so much beauty, that you will not have to look for it, other than by being with him, and within him. And you will be in need of no thought, of no TV show, to distract yourself from yourself, for how would you want to be distracted from being so wholly in love with the love of your life? So books will have become a bore to get you there, but you’d still read them as you read poetry. And a teacher will be of no use to you, but you’d still be eager for the company of a friend. And you’d go about your life with confidence, because you’re not alone to deal with it. Rather, your life will have become your being, and your being, your life. And at the same time, you will be alone, self-sufficient, in no need of anything, of anyone, to be fully yourself, to be happy. Therefore, you’d give yourself to all, to everything, you’d be a sharer of being, and a passionate lover of beings, and of things. Yes. That’s it. You’d be a light to yourself. A light to yourself.

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Text by Alain Joly

Painting by Edvard Munch (1863-1944)

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Websites:
Edvard Munch (Wikipedia)
J. Krishnamurti

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The Fall

‘Storm Clouds Sunset’ – J.M.W. Turner, 1825 – WikiArt

What a strange thing to have believed that we are not enough just as we are. That we need to be something other than this very sweet being or presence that makes us whole in a superb manner. Well, there must have been a belief that got in the way, that separated us from this plain and natural contemplation of our self. We must have come across a division, must have lost the thread, fallen down somehow, sometime, from this inner, blatant clarity. Where did the fall take place? How did we come to lose that which makes our very being, and can therefore never be lost, unless we were to disappear into oblivion? Was it just a simple belief, a little thought that did that? That made us think that we had to start from scratch, from a position of being flawed, insufficient, and that we had to do it all ourself: to succeed or fail, achieve even our happiness or our miserableness? That there was no given in being ourself? That we were small, incompetent in just living contented and blessed?

In fact, we have spoiled the game. We started with the wrong move. We have introduced a defect, a grain of sand that jammed the whole machine. That is: we have made ‘I am’ into ‘I am this’, have blemished being by objectifying it, have introduced a new entity where there was no need for one. I suppose we just wanted to do well, to bring our own contribution, presupposing that something was lacking when all was already perfectly whole and harmonious. So the first thing now is to stay away, to not indulge in being anything, to stop characterising our self when it is already fully characterised by itself, full to the brim with its own being, in no capacity of being more or better than what it is. How would you embellish splendour? How would you add anything to the sublime? Try it and it is but a fall from heaven to hell, from the inherent happiness contained in being complete to the suffering induced by separation and lack. So stop thinking that you can bring anything to yourself. Leave your ambition to be perfected, arranged, aggrandised. Notice that the simple fact of being cannot be improved on. You will never do better than God. Leave your self as pristine as you found it when you first breathed into its transparency.

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Text by Alain Joly

Painting by J. M. W. Turner (1775-1851)

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Website:
J. M. W. Turner (Wikipedia)

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Being’s Glorious Life

There is no being inside you. Being is a presence that knows no inside and no outside, unless the inside is outside, and the outside inside. What a strange thing to have believed that there is a space inside us that could accommodate being. It would make ‘being’ just a wee sensation, maybe located in our chest, side by side with the pressure experienced at the moment of anxiety, or any other kind of sensation. We would have being like a thing that we possess in our body, a feeling that belongs to ‘me’, that would be one just for me, cherished as being me and only me, and to which I would attach all the things that I believe belong to me — like my qualities, my thoughts, my experiences and failures, and that sticky, stubborn feeling of suffering. And that’s how being gets lost: because of these many other grandiose feelings and sensations in ourself, that bring much excitement, when being is so discreet, so unassuming, doesn’t want to show off, and gets forgotten. Really—we think—there is not much to it.

But being has resources. For being is not only being. It is not just that I am. I also feel that, know that — that I am. Being has the capacity to know, to be aware. So it extends itself to all things. It has no frontiers, doesn’t like to be located, doesn’t fancy being imprisoned inside something, anything, be it a body. Being is adventurous. It likes to go for an outing, and experience its intimacy with all things that can be seen, touched, heard, and multiplied to constitute a world. So being creates the world by being aware of it. Being is the architect of everything, for without its patient knowing and nourishing, nothing would be in capacity to exist. I don’t like to say so, for you won’t fancy that, but you are superfluous to being — I mean you as your body, your thoughts, qualities, excitements, failures, sufferings, all the mountain you have accumulated, all that: just a small, secondary, inessential, barely noticeable expression of being. Being has stolen the show long ago, and you haven’t yet noticed it: That your body is just an interface between being and being. That what seems to be inside you is in fact just as much outside you. That what seems to be outside you is in fact just as much inside you. That your wee sense of being is all there is, and all that you are, of all infinity and of all eternity. That being’s glorious life is what love is, and where it lives. That being is one for all. And that there is no else or besides it.

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Text and photo by Alain Joly

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The Unknowable

‘I don’t know anything about myself’. That’s where to be in life — in this position of not knowing. We are always piling up informations about ourself. We are so eager to. That’s our money. Knowledge is our currency. But see what knowledge has done to us. This constant knowing that I am this, and I am that. This knowledge hurts us, brings shame on us, or regrets, judgement, suffering, hope, belief — it fills us with what we are not. I understand that you so want to fill yourself up, that you fear being nothing. But try it. Try it once — to not know anything about yourself, which is a position of truth. You can know about anything in life, but see that you can never know yourself as an object. If you know something — anything — about yourself, this thing is in fact what you are not.

Therefore know that what you are has to be kept thoroughly empty. Believe me. Don’t fill it up ever. Yourself must be left unknown, pristine. This is from where you can fully watch and listen, from where you may invite anything and anybody in: In yourself — which is not yourself — and which you cannot know. I know, you have been told on other occasions, to know yourself. But they in fact meant: Know yourself as that which is spotless, innocent, untouchable, and absolutely unknowable. Keep it that way. Don’t crowd it with ideas or beliefs. Don’t think that you know it. You can’t. Keep yourself virgin of knowledge, and invite anything or anybody you meet along the way in that place of emptiness, in that clean spot of sacredness. That’s the place to be in, the place which you borrow from God’s being and which you can never know. This is the place of no suffering, of no shame or regrets, of no hope, and of no thing to battle with. This is what happens when you don’t know yourself: you don’t judge, you have no contempt — for you know that the other is as yourself, unknowable.

That’s the beauty of it, that I cannot know anything about myself. I remain free — free of accumulation, free of being something. Therefore open, available, fearless, which means peaceful and contented. But it is not something you should do or stop doing. Just notice it, that you yourself is the only thing in the picture which you cannot know, that you yourself is the unknowable element of your living experience, the one thing that you cannot touch in any way. Anything that you may do about yourself will be a corrupting factor. For what you are doesn’t need to be changed or improved. In fact you cannot, so you might as well not start in the first place. Stay away. Keep your deepest self or being as that unknowable portion of yourself. Leave it as it is: uncorrupted and incorruptible. Experience the space and freedom that you acquire as you take your stand as that deeply cherished and unknowable self. Be unknown to yourself.

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Text by Alain Joly

Photo by Elsebet Barner

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