Twisted Rainbow

Posted on by Alain Joly
‘Hope’ (detail) – George Frederick Watts, 1886 – WikiArt

Unhappiness is a strange thing, for against all appearances, and under serious investigation, it is not really found. We are making it up as we go along. In fact, there is no such thing as an absence of happiness. Yet we are nurturing this absence with great consistency, designing our so called unhappiness with care, through our thoughts, our memory, our attachments, our stubborn persistence. But only try to experience its effects outside your thoughts and feelings, in the absence of your mind, and you’d have to confess that you can’t find here anything like a misery. The reason is: unhappiness is not a thing in itself. It is veiled happiness. It is the covering up of your innate peace. It is past residues and future expectations tossing the tranquillity of the now. But all such disturbances, discomforts, or distresses, are always only temporary events, passing weathers distracting us from what is always here, always faithful, always to be trusted: the peace contained in simply being. This peace is in fact the very making and backbone of our lives, its solid background. It could never leave you no matter how hard you may try. Its not being felt is a form of snobbery. You have missed your innate joy in reason of your not looking in the right place. You have neglected your true, natural being for wanting to be somebody. You have been scorning yourself out of vainglory. In fact, unhappiness is but the simple mourning of a loved one who is missed: our true self. It is but a distraction from the boredom of our ignorance. Or a warning for a wrong turn taken.

Unhappiness is not found in physical pain, or in the natural grief following a loss. These are all compatible with happiness, as is a shared, compassionate sorrow. These are wise and healthy responses to life situations and challenges. Unhappiness is of a different nature. It is more like a habit or an indulgence. Often, we would rather be unhappy than shatter a well-rehearsed idea of ourself, in which we have invested our most cherished identity. Unhappiness is also the result of a fallacy, and a form of delusion. It is a shadow which we nourish through our belief in being a person caught between seeking and resisting, and the reward of fulfilment. Unhappiness is only as real as our limited self is. One will follow the other both in death and in birth. So really, unhappiness is a self-inflicted pain. In a way, we could say that it is a sin. It is ourself being driven away from our happy, forgotten nature, and bound to the suffering self which we have identified ourself with. It is our twisted rainbow in the sky of ignorance, that appears naturally without being truly there. It is created by the rain of all our renouncements, of our constant search for security and approval, through accumulation and avoidance. So next time you meet some measure of unhappiness in your life, don’t believe it. Don’t be caught up and allured by its convincing appearance. See through it until you find its referent. See that unhappiness is not real as affliction or suffering. It only exists as the sum of all that hinders the happiness which is the nature of your self as being. Your misery may in fact only be a passing, unassuming thought, maybe an innocent, unchallenged belief, or just a feeling hovering about, which you are taking too seriously. Not very much really. Hardly enough to send you far and away from the delight of simply being.

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Text by Alain Joly

Painting by George Frederic Watts (1817-1904)

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Websites:
– George Frederic Watts ( Wikipedia)
– Hope (Watts) (Wikipedia)

Suggestion:
– Other ‘Reveries’ from the blog…

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A Gorgeous Feeling

Posted on by Alain Joly

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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Suggestion:
Other ‘Ways of Being’ from the blog…

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