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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Perfect Days

’Perfect Days’ – by Wim Wenders (with Koji Yakusho)

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All my films deal with how to live.”
~ Wim Wenders

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Why do we watch a movie or enjoy any piece of art but for the joy, happiness, or relief we derive from such activity? Well, sometimes we use a movie not so much to feel, but rather to stop feeling. We want to be alleviated from our sense of boredom, or be distracted from our constant worry, or have the lowest ambition to be rewarded with pleasure, plain simple pleasure which, if not delivered, will make us move on to something else. Film as an art form is ambiguous, for it has in itself an entertaining power which makes it the prey to our most suspect desires. Well, Wim Wenders, in this movie, wasn’t going to give way to that ubiquitous trap and fall. With ‘Perfect Days’, he made a movie in which there is no desire to be had, which offers no suspense, no excitement, no resolution of any kind, but from which you would never want to move away. A movie that describes the quiet, plain, orderly living of a man whose job is to clean public toilets in Tokyo.

Hirayama lives each and everyday as if it was a perfect day. For him, there is no possibility of failure in life. And he makes sure that boredom is an impossibility. So he cares. Hirayama cares about everything he does, and seems to be profoundly related to his modest home, to his morning toilet, and to the watering of his plants. He does what he has to do, with no judgment or resistance. He doesn’t mind. He feels his inner freedom. He has everything he needs, so he smiles at life and life smiles back at him. He breathes when he steps outside and looks at the sky as for the first time, the wonder of it all. Then he buys himself a can of coffee from a local vending machine, opens his van, sits, drinks a sip, chooses a song from a bunch of cassette tapes, lights the engine, drives, and listens to ‘The House of the Rising Sun’ by The Animals. For that’s where he is now, in the house of the rising sun, going to his work through the sprawling suburbs of Tokyo’s morning, undisturbed, confident, present.

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A reflection on the film ‘Perfect Days’ by Wim Wenders… (READ MORE…)

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An Explanation of Reality

You may not be interested in these matters. You may be an atheist, a non-believer. You may have an aversion towards all things spiritual. It doesn’t matter. You will get it all the same, that the world, the universe, everything — including yourself — are not there. Nothing is really there. Not in the way you had imagined. This is not like everybody has been telling you. Not at all. And you will see it with your logic, with your scepticism — a golden value by the way —, with your Cartesian, rational, solid mind. I will explain. You just have to listen carefully. There is no world, and I will expose to you how it is so. I will demonstrate it to you.

You may think there are billions of other people, countless other versions of suffering, a multitude of experiences, a world teeming with crowds and achievements, and all manner of things, from the most sublime to the most appalling. And there are indeed multiple points of views. But all of the world’s sufferings will always ever be experienced as yourself. It will be for whoever you may be now, and be experienced in whatever experience you may be experiencing now. The whole world is always only a first person experience of the world — in whoever you happen to be at this moment. When another person experiences suffering, it will then be this person’s only reality, and so on. So you will always ever be yourself. There are no ways to be another than yourself, to have another experience that your own experience of being yourself — which you experience right now. So the totality of humanity is contained in that one subjective experience of being. It is all there — in being. The billions of subjectivities, the myriad of experiences, the unspeakable suffering, the expansion and the veiling, the gruesome and the awe, the glory and sacredness of truth, and the compelling ignorance. Every experience of every possible being in this world is in essence made of that one experience of pure, ethereal being. And suffering is when you don’t know that.

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An explanation on how the reality of everything is only being… (READ MORE…)

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A Speck of Light

What you are is nothing ordinary, nowhere near being ordinary. We have gotten used to seeing ourself small, a speck of consciousness in the wider picture of the universe, with its trillions of other specks. We have made consciousness a mere apparatus, something that allows us to apprehend reality. For most of us, reality as the world is the real thing. Consciousness is nothing to speak about or even mention: just a tiny, taken for granted sparkle in the mind. A mere instrument at the service of a limited, separate entity. This instrument is nearly transparent, hardly worth considering, and is often reduced to what is called conscience, which is in fact only mind. But could it be that the most important aspect of our lives resides there, in and as that speck, in and as that sparkle that we have ignored and misunderstood for millennia? We have been exclusively fascinated by the content of our minds, by our bodies, and by this enthralling world, and we have stopped there, leaving the most precious jewel of our lives aside. But this attitude is in fact an elaborate system of avoidance. As Krishnamurti once said: “Your whole concern is with escape.”

We are constantly privileging the content at the expense of the vessel that holds it, and the known at the expense of the unknowable. We want to possess and control, and feel the satisfaction of it. We prefer having experiences to exploring the nature of all experiences. But there is a seed waiting in the tender soil of our mind, that needs our attention and care. It thrives when being observed. It grows under the scrutiny of a loving contemplation. Its infinite proportions are a thing to watch, that can turn your life upside down, and sweep it clean of its erroneous foundations.

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Consciousness: from its being veiled to its being realised… (READ MORE…)

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The River of Peace

‘Landscape with a River’ – Aleksey Savrasov – WikiArt

I think it is important to rest in the peace of our being. To gain that position and stay there, rejoice in it, find one’s home in it. To have peace as our perennial identity. To live in its aura. Then we might hang one thing on the door of our sweet cabinet of peace, a notice with these simple words written on it: ‘Do not disturb’. Why should I be disturbed? Should a thought come, out of habit, and visit me, claiming to break my peace for an adventure out of myself, in search of a moment of excitement, a share of happiness, or an elusive instant of peace, then I might gently tell her to stay away. Why should I break my peace for an activity whose only purpose is to find the peace that I already am? Peace then becomes my best manual to navigate through the many demands of life. It will ease my many battles with choice. It will bring my thousand little craving digressions down to a few necessary ones, that will serve me with something that I don’t already have. It will simplify my quest. I won’t have to be so dispersed, grabbing every opportunity to gain a shadow of peace when peace shines for me like a thousand suns. Peace is like a wide, silent, powerful river that follows one destination only: itself. It won’t deviate from its course. It is already made of the many rivulets that come unable to really feed it, of the thousands raindrops that fall and won’t trouble it, of the ocean that it never in a thousand years needs to expect. As for the storms, they only become an opportunity for the river of peace to flood every single thing found on the shore of experience, drowning them in its everlasting course and presence. What would a storm of peace be? What could it be but the sweetest of contamination, where every possible experience is discovered to be peace itself being stirred out of itself, and landing back within itself. This is when you might change the notice on your cabinet’s door and write simply: ‘Come in for peace.’

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Text by Alain Joly

Painting by Alexei Savrasov (1830-1897)

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Website:
Alexei Savrasov (Wikipedia)

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Hidden Vastness

‘The Monk by the Sea’ – Caspar David Friedrich, 1808-10 – WikiArt

Infiltrated with your experience is hidden a vastness. Don’t let it be unseen, a thing lost, blind to itself, and yourself mistaken with merely a few passing sensations and some thoughts erring with little purpose. You’ve got to notice, just notice, quietly, almost inadvertently, that most of your experience consists of a shy, unassuming, happy presence that stands behind every single occurrence that proceeds proudly in and as your experience. That shy being is not to be missed or snubbed. That background blessing is of utmost importance in your life. It is everything to you, although you may not know it. So you’ve got to thin your experience out, and not let it be so loud, so invasive — maybe snub it for a while, to make it transparent to what is saturating it. This shy presence is in fact yourself wanting to be truly seen. It is yourself pushing the boundaries of experience, to befriend you. It is your lover who seeks to seduce you, and that you push away every time you give objective experience this undue, primary importance. So be attentive, sensitive to the discreet manifestation of presence. Don’t be so rude for once.

Let presence reveal its shining, pervading nature. See every appearance through. Notice the presence of your self through and behind every experience that forms before your eyes. You’ve got to give yourself all the attention you deserve, to see that you are everywhere, all at once, and that you in fact pervade the world. And the more you see yourself as you are, the more interesting will the world become to you. You will be in love with your fellow humans and with the world, and that love is nothing but the presence of your self pervading every experience, being one with it. To love is to witness the disappearance of your old, limited, worn out sense of self, and the discovery of a limitless, incorruptible, astounding self. A self with no substance, yet highly substantial, highly present, overwhelmingly so. A self that is the very hum of the world, and its vibrating essence. A self that is but the simple feeling of being when it is disengaged from the filter of experience. A self that is fresh, untamed, vibrant with its own innate innocence. So learn to simply be, in spite of all your so tantalising experiences. Life is solely composed of this one, single, ravishing experience of being. Stay firm with that fact.

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Text by Alain Joly

Painting by Caspar David Friedrich (1774–1840)

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Websites:
Caspar David Friedrich (Wikipedia)
The Monk by the Sea (Wikipedia)

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God’s Blind Spot

Understand that there is something present now, that stands ready to record your experience. This something or presence is massively here. You cannot budge it no matter what. It is here the moment you are seeing anything, and the moment you are hearing what you are hearing. No matter what it is you are perceiving, that thing is here to allow you to do so. Should you be thinking, and your thinking is immediately known. Should you be feeling, and your feeling spreads itself in the very thing that is knowing it. Your body is under its scrutiny, through its being aware of a sky of sensations. It will follow you no matter where you go, and yet you cannot make it go anywhere. You cannot hide anything from this observing eye — he’d be the one hiding it. This thing has no shadows. It is bright day and night. And should you undertake an inquiry about that sun, she’d be the one conducting it. In short, the whole of life is being played within something without which there would be no life to be experienced. It is conditioning everything to itself without itself being conditioned by anything. But the most extraordinary of all is that we manage to miss it, to not notice it, and finally conceal it. Which means that this presence is itself the one concealing itself. And that bit of shadow that is left behind is who we think we are! We therefore only exist in a vacuum. The self that we believe ourself to be is the only thing that can neither experience nor be experienced. It is not in the picture. Nowhere to be found. Evaporated! Just an invention. The unreal cannot in a thousand years be experienced by the real. So the real is left completely alone. One with itself. And we are that: An ocean of knowing that knows nothing of the wee self we pretend to be. It only knows our having never, ever been here. In other words, we are God’s only blind spot.

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Text and photo by Alain Joly

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Suggestion:
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