Who Are You?

“It really doesn’t matter.
Here goes nothing.
It will be interesting to see what happens.”

~ Sloan Wilson – The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit

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I mostly do not write on my own blog, because I figure everything that needs to be said has already been said a million times, and why add to the cacophony? But I’ve just come out of a rather intensive self-imposed retreat, and there is something that wishes to explore its findings to itself. After all, there’s only this One Thing talking to itself all the time, attempting to get its own attention, wanting to remind itself of its true nature.

There’s only one story ever told and it goes like this: first, there is harmony, then chaos ensues, and then there is a successful (or sometimes unsuccessful) attempt to resolve the chaos in order to return to harmony. All stories have this same central theme, though the details vary.

This is the story that all of Life is telling itself, as it attempts to resolve the appearance of separation. What has been forgotten is why this world was created in the first place.

Consider a vast nothingness, an infinite womb, and then out of nowhere, an idea, a spark of creativity appears, the possibility of nothing knowing itself as something. The essence of this appearance could be called love, this sudden desire for nothing to become something and look upon itself. And Life begins to multiply upon itself in its vastness and create more and more diverse and fantastic depictions of itself.

Fast forward to this moment. The experiment has turned in on itself, so successful in its degrees of otherness that it no longer recognizes itself as one. The story has become so vast and complex that the One is completely distracted from the only story, which is the one that returns it to harmony. This is your story. Everything and everyone who you seek out to help you resolve your lack of harmony, every teacher, book, workshop, whatever, is you looking in a mirror to find yourself. The trick is to turn around and look at who is looking.

The battles within and without are an attempt to continue the story of separation. Why? Why do you want to continue to live a fragmented version of yourself? You say you want wholeness and healing, peace and freedom, love and harmony, but who are you kidding? If you truly wanted it you would have it. You are still somewhat entertained by all the craziness and chaos, admit it. All the loneliness, all the suffering, all the pathos, you’re making it up as you go along.

On the other hand, this story has been played out in so many versions over the millennia, in some ways it has become tiresome and rather ho-hum. Really, I mean how much more violence and mayhem, the self against the self, this holding onto a concept of otherness, how much longer do you want to hold out? Aren’t you tired of it all? Maybe not…..

Because the ET’s might come, and the Ascended Masters will show up, and there will be heaven on earth, and no more struggle for survival, and yada, yada, yada. More story, keep it going, play some more. That’s OK. It’s all perfect. It’s your story (satori).

Well, in my version of this story, the One finally recognizes itself as Not Two, never was never will be. And in the final gazing, One into the eyes of the One, the love is so huge and tremendous that it bursts the boundaries of creation and dissolves back into absolute Nothingness from which it all arose in the first place. End of story. Wow!

And then I woke up this morning, and the cats were meowing to get in, and the phone rang, and I made coffee, and I sat and watched the wind blow the leaves and branches of this giant tree in my backyard, and this idea began to form in my brain as to writing something on my blog. Go figure.

So will this little missive change anything? Probably not. Maybe. I think there are only two people in the entire known Universe who read this thing, who knows?. In turning to look upon what is inherently true in one's consciousness, perhaps what arises is a sense of responsibility for everything, a realization that outside is only a projection of what has become unacceptable inside, and even the very idea of inside and outside becomes erroneous. The enemy is whatever you have said no to. Neti, neti, not this, not that. But how can that be, when everything that exists is you? Everything! Even the idea of an enemy exists because we wish to annihilate whatever stands in the way of Oneness, we just made the mistake of thinking it was out there! As if that were possible…

Every conflict is the resurrecting of the same story, over and over, countless scenarios, one after the other, always seeking something more. I guess resting in sublime contentment seems rather blasé in comparison. But not for this one. I can’t seem to find anything that wants something other than what’s right here. The addictions have fallen away. I know where it all leads. It no longer interests me. My attention keeps turning to what is looking through these eyes and stopping there. Even food is a distraction. I don’t even care why this is so. This questioner has no questions left.

There is still a narrative playing in this mind, but it is its own merry-go-round of entertainment, slowly winding down because the ticket booth is closed. It’s closing in on itself, no where to go but a leap into the void. Like a caged animal it paces, the mind seeking some escape, but all the avenues are shut down and there’s no place left to land.

Why am I writing this? The invitation is for all parts of myself to enter this exploration of what has always been and forever will be the only truth, and that is YOU ARE IT!

Got it? Good.

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One of the strange properties of being me
is I don’t want to be ignored,
but I don’t want to be seen either.
Sometimes I am my only witness.
I AM a mirror within which
I reflect myself;
my own mind and consciousness
a vast and fascinating playground
where I dance for myself
and engage myself
in scintillating conversation.

I argue with my ghostly
and mostly imaginary past,
shaking my fist at the inner critic
who boasted its way
into becoming a feature of my brain,
and while I drag my neural sea
for the anchoring point,
and practice eroding new paths
into presently pristine fields,
my own voice narrates.
Each corner turned, each breath taken,
each mundane and extraordinary task is
noted, verified, examined, reiterated,
some flushed, some filed,
some deified, others exiled.
It is constant,
my rambling and eloquent
talk with myself.

If I found a way
to package, publish, and exhibit
this artistic performance and
masterpiece of life,
I would be no different
than all the other needy, greedy
children crying for worldly attention,
and I would miss the lone applause
that only I can gift myself.
I would forget that
in closing my outer eyes
I see everything,
have everything,
am everything,
and opening them again
just brings into sharp focus
the state of the romantic interlude
I’m having with me.

I remember now.
The rest doesn’t matter.
Solid things are more ephemeral than
soap bubbles
when the attention shifts.
Only looking closely
makes it real and tangible,
brings it to human life,
a form through which I may
caress my skin,
kiss my lips and breasts,
and make my heart pound wildly
until passion, exhausted,
closes again my eyes,
and I surrender, smiling,
into luxurious sleep.

I dream of new ways to awaken
while the old familiar faces/places
appear once again on the horizon,
imploring me to continue my line of thought
for one more day.

I comply.
If only to follow the story line
and take in the surprise ending.
For as many things I think I know
I don’t.
As far as I may have come,
every point in eternity is
a beginning place.
I might as well be a child forever,
in wonderment at my own fingers
and the timeless pace of snails.
Today I am fresh as tears,
watching from the center of everything,
and no one is here but me.

~ Suzen