A Ghostly Thing

We only ever become within the course of time. We seem to always want to move cautiously, step by step. We don’t consider a becoming that could be achieved in an instant. Quicker even. A becoming free of the constraints of time or place, that could not be influenced by our thoughts, conditionings, beliefs, desires. A becoming that doesn’t find its worth in objective experience. A becoming that has no movement, that is still, confident, ever present. A becoming which bears in itself no change, and that was here before you even had the idea to change, or become, or evolve.

After all, when it comes to our identity, to who we truly are, ‘becoming’ seems to be a very poor idea. What could we become that we are not already? What is here in our very being that could become, that could be different, or better, or more? Our identity has been settled from time immemorial. It was here before even the appearance of time, which is but the product of our patterns of thinking. Before the appearance of place, which is but the product of our ability for sensing, seeing, hearing, touching. We have our identity and our perfection — our changelessness — hidden in being.

So, could we not become what we are? That’s the real question. How do we become our true identity? How do we espouse who we truly are, or be that thing which we are that cannot be deformed, changed, soiled, or even defined? That implies understanding both the one who wants to become, and that which he or she wants to become. There is a becoming, a change, a better or a worse, a less or a more, for the body-mind. But is there a becoming for ourself? Is there anyone here that could ever achieve becoming? Look for the one who wants to become, and notice that you will never find it. Becoming is a ghostly thing.

You cannot become. That’s a lovely idea, one that comes from another idea. From the belief that you are something, someone, that can change, evolve. There is in our being no room for change. Being is complete. It cannot be bent according to our beliefs, hopes, ambitions. So there is no becoming that which we are, and no one to become being — a better being, or a worse being. Being is the only thing shining in our being. There is no one here that could ever want to become. We may give to our body-mind more skills, more strength, better abilities, but to ourself, we can give nothing but the faculty of being only being.

So go only for what you already are. That’s truly what you want to become: what you already are. There is not a better becoming than that. That will spare you being a person caught in the effects and weariness of time and place. That will spare you being in the prison of a self, all the separation and loneliness involved in becoming anything or anyone. That will free you — to not become. That will give you exquisite joy — to only be what you are. That will give you certainty, confidence — to have your own being as your changeless, unbreakable horizon. May you become what you are. Believe me, this is heaven.

.

Creatures of a day! What is anyone?
What is anyone not? A dream of a shadow
Is our mortal being. But when there comes to men
A gleam of splendour given of heaven,
Then rests on them a light of glory
And blessed are their days.”
~ Pindar, 5th century BC (Pythian 8)

.

~~~

Text by Alain Joly

Quote by Pindar (c.518-c.438 BC)

Photo by Alain Joly

~~~

.

Website:
Pindar (Wikipedia)

Suggestion:
– Other ‘Reveries’ from the blog…

.

How Difficult is That?

Isn’t this strange to have that constant race towards being when we are already fully being, and furthermore, doing it with absolute perfection? We keep projecting another better being than our present being, which we have judged not enough, un-sufficient, un-perfected. But we couldn’t be being any more or better than we are now already doing. What would I want to be but what I am? Why this be-coming? It is such a plain, inescapable evidence: I am this awaring presence. Presence, or being, is my natural abode. This is who I am.

Yet I’ve had all sort of ideas about it. And fanciful ones, believe me! That this presence was a me-person located inside a body. That it was an idea, a point of view that needed nurturing and developing as I — the me located inside this body — desired it. And if ‘I’ couldn’t do so, that would make this ‘me-majesty’ a sad, upset little ‘me’. And that sad little ‘me’ would go on living the life of a body located in space, projecting all the beings and things it senses as representing an ‘other’, a ‘world’ out there in which he roams about alone, gets scared, and craves, until he finally dies. That’s the end of ‘sad little me’. Body dies, he dies.

Hell no. That’s not the way it is. God forbid. There is no sad little me. That’s not there. It’s an idea, an image with no reality. I am not sad. I am not small. Not located. I am presence itself. I am this sweet, loving, sensitive, subtle knowing of everything that presents itself in this field. I am this field of knowing. This tenderness taking all in. I am the big, soft, loving eye of knowing. Knowing is my home. As for the rest, I am homeless. I don’t need to crave, grab, grip, grapple, grabble. None of that. God forbid. I am free. Unattached. Deep diving into the very substance of my self. Experience is my constituent and I am in love with every bit of it.

How difficult is that?

.

~~~

Text and photo by Alain Joly

~~~

.

Other ‘Ways of Being‘ from the blog…

.