So welcome everybody and I'd like to continue on.
With a meditation.
On Being,
One of my latest paintings.
So simply settle into wherever you are.
There is no adjustment that's needed,
No correct position.
Just allow the body to be exactly as it is.
If you wish,
You may close your eyes,
But you don't need to close your eyes.
You don't need to prepare anything.
Because we're not going anywhere.
This is not a journey.
There is no direction.
No inward,
Outward,
Upward,
Downwards,
No through.
Just notice what is most present right now.
Thought,
Sensation,
Sound.
The particular weight of this day.
Just notice it.
Don't try to release any of it.
Don't try to quieten it.
Just notice.
Notice it moving through something.
What it moves through doesn't move.
Not because it's frozen,
Not because it is distant from what you feel.
Because it is not made of movement.
A tree doesn't seek to be a tree.
It simply is one.
Completely without effort.
Without the question of whether it is doing it correctly.
The roots don't reach for the ground.
They are the ground.
The branches don't arrive at a sky.
They are simply what are,
Moving as they move,
In stillness.
And that is what you are.
Not as a metaphor.
As the plain fact of what you are when the interference stops being mistaken for the whole.
The interference is real.
And I'm not asking you to dismiss it.
The noise.
The Sea King.
The long effort of maintaining a self against the pressure of living.
It's all real,
All of it.
But notice.
It was always moving through something that didn't see.
Something that never needed to be found.
Because it was never lost.
Something that has no location.
Not inside you.
Not beyond you.
Simply what you are.
As essence.
As presence.
Is the only fact.
That was never not the case.
This is Sahaj.
What was always inlately known before the first teaching arrived.
To complicate it.
Before the first rule.
Before the first story about who you were supposed to be.
Before the seeking begun.
And mistook itself for the path.
Let the seeking be what it is.
Interference wearing the face of solution not condemned.
Not released.
Just seen for what it is.
And what remains when it is seen clearly?
Doesn't arrive.
Does not emerge and certainly does not announce itself.
It simply is as it always was.
A flame does not arrive at burning.
The silence does not arrive at knowing.
Spunder,
The first pulse of being moving into expression.
Was never somewhere you had to reach.
It was always the fact beneath the reaching.
Rest here.
Not as practice,
Not as achievement.
As the simple truth of what you already are.
Not saying I am this or that or that I am anything.
No cage.
No narrative.
No frame.
No story about who you are supposed to be.
Swatantra.
Not freedom arrived at.
Freedom is the only thing that was ever true.
A white fire,
The mandala at the heart.
The roots that are ground.
That are also the fact of being itself.
Not symbols.
But the direct truth of who you are.
When the interference finally and completely without drama,
Stops being mistaken for the whole.
Stay here.
Notice somewhere you have arrived.
As what you are.
Being.
Simply being.
Not a statement,
You entered.
Not a stillness you created.
What was here before the first thought.
And what will be here after the last one?
The tree knows this.
The flame knows this.
The roots beneath you know this.
And now.
.
.
So do you.
