Beliefs
Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn’t fall away.
This maps the path as much as anything. Wisdom does not require knowledge. It is simply the absence of obscurations. It is innate. The path towards liberation does not require you to acquire a single thing, only to shed your skin. Initially it takes a great leap of faith, to start digging in to your beliefs. Because of the lack of guidelines, its a stumbling in the dark. There’s no outside perspective, and so it seemingly demands the impossible. It’s like changing tires as the car is driving. This is the point of faith. The willingness to trust the unknown. It is the greatest leap. Only afterwards, you see its necessity, you see its ‘correctness’. This is the second important point. Verification. It is not a blind faith. Only a faithful search. But the whole point is that you must see it for yourself. It must be felt, experienced, lived.
How can we trust oneness more than seperation? Is the leap of faith in fact not creating the destination? How can we claim to know? Is not the faith itself betraying a deep desire, a want, which creates an inclination in the mind? A placebo? Wouldn’t the belief in a fundamental happiness, love, be the ultimate coping mechanism? Just like the belief in God saves us from despair in the face of the void, the absurd, the meaningless. It’s the way we come out of it with our humanity intact. The benefits are numerious, are obvious.
The cynic thinks himself skeptical, inquisitive. But the road he travels is the one well-trodden. Instead he should open his eyes and take a breath in. Assess the situation. Skepticism claims to question but does so from afar, is not willing to sacrifice itself in the search for truth. The healthy distance is the one the leap must overcome, lest one step in a trap. Time and time again, the process transcends itself.
When I look at you, what do I see? The projection of my own beliefs, my desires? When you laugh, is it your happiness I feel? Or is my heart only resonating to an imaginary tune? As I gently smile in return, is my compassion stuck in my mind, or does it grow wings and fly into yours? Who am I, this Self, this Subject, residing so desolately in a barren desert of Other? A mirage? Or the bedrock upon which the empire stands? Wherever we look, there is only illusion. In such a state, who dares lay claim to Truth?
Looking at myself, this is what I see.
A long-winded narration of a story playing out in front of me.
But they are two, not one, and their conjunction is the slight of hand the mind has practiced for eternity.
My, Myself, and I, such a persistent whine.
Its worries captures my attention, makes me forget about space and time.
Or is it this, in fact, it creates, the fall from grace that allows the difference?
Like how the sharp scream in the dead of night brings out the silence that was there before.
Without time, what is eternity?
We’re shedding skin. Illuminating beliefs, in order to see their transparency. It’s a walk towards stillness, towards silence. Slowly the narration reveals itself. The externality of thougt. Here we find the greatest belief. The Self. What is it, more than words, symbols, labels, language, narration, a story? It’s the story we tell ourselves. But it’s not a part of experience itself. It’s not.. life. When it’s not believed, it falls away. I feel anger. The emotion has bubbled up. Then the narration starts to explain it, and justify it. My belief in its story prolongs the anger, deepens it. But I don’t have to believe the story. I can just sit with the anger. The emotion exists apart from the story of it. It’s felt. Maybe the story is about how bad anger is, and my belief brings aversion towards it. Then anger creates shame, guilt. The story is what spins the wheel of samsara. The belief in the self. Slowly, experience starts to unfold. Rather, it always has been. But our awareness of it is developing. Like a muscle that’s never been trained before. A great relief is felt, an opening, an expansion. Things are, and there’s no responsibility on us to make them. How then, can we believe in oneness over seperation? Because it’s not a belief. It’s just a vain attempt at describing what is unfolding. Things are. We experience them as such, we abide alongside their is-ness. Without interpretation, or judgement. Without thoughts, beliefs, mind. This is what we describe as oneness. But as language is dualistic, “oneness” just sounds like another thing, another side of the coin. It’s not a dichotomy, oneness and seperation. If you must choose, go with neither. It’s the transcending of the system itself. But again, it’s not a truth that is upheld. It’s value is nothing. It’s not a belief. It’s just an attempt to point towards that which is left once everything has fallen away. If it was a belief, it could be doubted. But who can doubt experience itself? It’s beyond judgement.
Silently I pray. That my mother looks forward with strength. That my brother endures the pain. That my father does not shy away from stillness. With compassion, for all of those I’ve left behind. Family, friends, strangers. That they may find relief from the heaviness that surrounds us. With gratitude, towards the opportunity I’ve been given. To all of life that supports me on my way.
What is the meaning of my prayer? It resonates in my heart, creates intentions for my actions. An orientation, a grounding. To others, it might be communicated in a smile, a small gesture, or an energetic shift across the continent to that place called home. The difference? 9 words and 6000 kilometers.
Extract from chapter 10 of the Bodhicharyavatara of Master Shantideva.
May all beings everywhere
Plagued by sufferings of body and mind
Obtain an ocean of happiness and joy
By virtue of my merits.May no living creature suffer
Commit eveil, or ever fall ill.
May no one be afraid or belittled,
With a mind weighed down by depressionMay the blind see forms
And the deaf hear sounds.
May those whose bodies are worn with toil
Be restored on finding repose.May the naked find clothing,
The hungry find food;
May the thirsty find water
And delicious drinks.May the poor find wealth,
Those weak with sorrow find joy;
May the forlorn find hope,
Constant happiness, and prosperity.May there be timely rains
And bountiful harvests;
May all medicines be effective
And wholesome prayers bear fruit.May all who are sick and ill
Quickly be freed from their ailments.
Whatever diseases there are in the world,
May they never occur again.May the frightened cease to be afraid
And those bound be freed;
May the powerless find power,
And may people think of benefitting each other.For as long as space remains,
For as long as sentient beings remain,
Until then may I too remain
To dispel the misries of the world.