Time

There is no past.

Past is just memories.

There is no future.

Future is just dreams.

There is no now.

For now is the illusion

Of the divide between

Memory and dreams.

There is simply this.

This happening.

This arising.

This dissolving.

Time is a construct

Of the me

Sleeping in the dreams

And reveling in the memories.

Me

I’m not worthy. I’m worthy.

I’m not special. I’m special.

I’m anxious. I’m at ease.

I’m exhausted. I’m energized.

I’m a failure. I’m a success.

I’m divided.

I’m at war with myself.

I’m separate.

I’m me.

Me is an illusion.

There is no me.

There is no one worthy or not worthy.

There is no one special or not special.

There is no one at ease or anxious.

There is no one energized or exhausted.

There is no one succeeding or failing.

There is only oneness.

There is only wholeness.

There is only emptiness.

Thoughts arise and fade.

Feelings come and go.

No one is observing the thoughts.

No one is feeling the feelings.

There is only this.

Life happening.

Full on.

Non stop.

This Is It

I remember reading a story about young men and women joining a monastic order. These young people had high aspirations of becoming monks with great spiritual enlightenment. The older monks set these young aspiring monks to working long hours clearing the many steps on the path leading up to the monastery. The monastery was high in the hills nestled in a wooded area. The path up the hill was paved. In the fall, the raking of leaves seemed endless. In the winter the shoveling of the snow never ending. When the young acolytes were not sweeping or raking, the monks had them cleaning toilets or dishes or floors in the monastery. After a few weeks of this some of them left, protesting that they didn’t join the monastic order to just do chores and clean all day long. Others, the ones that stayed, would also complain but had a higher tolerance for the hard work. This continued for many more months, with a few more leaving each week. The monks wished them well and bared no ill feelings toward them.

Eventually the few that stayed began to notice that it didn’t really matter that they were sweeping, or shoveling, or scrubbing, or cleaning toilets, or sitting quietly in meditation, all of these activities took on a feeling of sameness. They noticed that thoughts arose and then dissolved like drops create ripples in a bucket of water and then disappear leaving the water still once again. Feelings flooded the body and then fell away as leaves bud in the spring and then drop from a tree branch in the fall. They noticed that there was no need to grasp or to seek or to cling to those negative thoughts and feelings they had experienced.

After some period of time the acolytes were encouraged by the older monks to leave the monastery and visit the nearby village during a harvest festival. Several of them met family during the festival. Others met past friends. Still others made new friends. And still others took lovers for the brief time during the festival. Many felt great joy and relief to be away from what seemed to them now in the bustle and energy of the festival activities, to be endless drudgery of monastic life. Some mourned the loss of loved ones or the loss of time wasted sweeping, shoveling and cleaning. They dreamed of futures filled with marriage, having a home, raising children, going on travels and having adventures. They turned away from the monastery and went out to seek these things in the wider world.

A few of them felt those same feelings and had those same thoughts and responded not with dreaming or seeking but with a simple intuitive feeling of “this too.” They returned to the monastery with a lighter step and a freer heart.

The older monks were waiting to greet the younger monks upon their return. The young monks smiled with a half smile and a twinkle in their eyes. The older monks returned the gesture in kind and said “welcome home, for you had never left and there was never any place to go.” And the younger monks said “yes, this is it. This has always been it. There is only wholeness. There is only emptiness.”

And they returned to their chores and their meditations only now there was no one doing the chores, no one doing the meditations. There was simply this and this was all there ever was and all that ever could or would be.