SIMPLY BEING

Tag: love (page 1 of 7)

Oil & Water

It is very interesting to be partnered with someone who envelops you in a neutral, uncompromising space.

Someone who neither adds fuel to your fire nor pours water on it, someone who supplies fertilizer in a silent manner and does not intervene during a bug attack. Here is someone who is perfectly capable of watching this house go up in flames simply because they trust the structure to prop itself up. Someone who doesn’t know the I of intervention (or interference).

I must say that all ideas of love and companionship have been clear blown out of the water at this stage… NO shared goals, no real interest in each other’s aspirations, no claim to the other’s successes or failures. People would say that this is clearly NOT a recipe for harmony! And yet it is simply that… By getting out of each other’s way, I suppose we have become the way for the other to walk on.

Love is very strange because it is so spacious and it has no colors, really. It is about sweet gestures, all meaningless, of course… and it also seems to be about aloneness.

So strange, I had no idea this was what it was all about.

Like attracts like, or a moth is drawn to a flame, or we are oil and water, never to mix with each other, always floating separate and together.

Notes to Self

Don’t try to understand your thoughts or your experience. Be one with it.

Don’t act on your thoughts or experience. Fuse with it.

Experience is arising, and all is experience. Even emptiness is an experience, no different than any other.

Experience arises in you, as you. You are intimately attached to the shape, form, color, etc. of the experience. Indeed, it derives fully from you. Imagine a balloon emerging from you, inflating, deflating, disappearing. This balloon is the shape and form of your experience, and it includes the physical world, the mental and emotional stuff, all of that… Everything constitutes the balloon, and it goes away when you fall asleep.

Because each one of us experiences the world in an entirely unique way, it follows that the world is our unique creation. Just because it seems like many of us have similar experiences of the world, it doesn’t validate the existence of the world as a separate entity. It simply means that we have internalized similar ideas, hence conjuring up “similar worlds.”

Not to believe or disbelieve experience but to simply see it, hold it in the hollow of your palm. And that requires no believing or disbelieving.

SO, fear is an experience, too, as changing and changeable as any other. Now, if you swing to either side (belief, disbelief), it gets sticky. If you simply watch, it moves through.

Similar to the experience of energy (high, middling, low, stagnant) that does not stick. It is the same phenomenon, or the rhythm/flow pattern.

What of action? That also emerges, either from past ideas, or from fresh, new space… Simply watch?

Swim into the discomfort!

Eyes of Love

“You know, I still think you are one of the handsomest guys I have ever seen.”

“Hmm, hmm.”

It’s true, it really is! I have been seeing his face for decades now, and I still find it strikingly handsome.

I find my father has an unusually kind/sweet face, and as for Mummy, well… her countenance reflects such sweet kindness, plus she has the most radiant skin ever. Not to mention my sister who is cuteness personified, even as she enters her 40s. And then there are my friends who are all beautiful, noble women.

I wonder if it’s at all possible to recognize Beauty unless viewed through the eyes of Love. Maybe it’s Love (love?) that sheds light on what is, or perhaps it is the one that blinds us from what is. I don’t know, and do I really care?

Better Half/Whole Pie

Sometimes you are the better half, and then you are the whole pie, and then you feel like you are missing THE better half, but the missing is all-sweet, nothing sad or bitter about any of it, and parting/meeting is a bit like waves rushing to the shore, then pulling away. We meet in silence and we meet in celebration, we inch ever so close, even closer… and yet we are universes apart. Love is never complete because there are two halves to the pie. And yet it feels that I am the dreamer who dreamed him up. And he is pure camphor, leaving no traces behind. And it is I who dreamed him up, swallowed him whole, and all his traces are in me alone.