Half The Problem

You know, maybe half the problem is in expecting some outward change or sign, to mean "we've grown" or reached some level of spiritual growth, or attainment. Perhaps we've never been any other than our true nature all along.

But we drop into human baby form and acclimate to: our very survival, and good feelings or bad are all derived externally.

Too, let's again consider those new runners; flashy, shiny, and comfy; long sought and now acquired!! Step in the puddles of the earthly realm and dirt happens. No matter the shoe, old or new, or nakedness of a foot, or socks of blue. Walking in this realm and being tuned to "that which comes from outside", a muddy wet foot it be. Our mood is set accordingly.

Move to the rain. After years of observation, my stock reply to those that mention it is, "It's only wet in between the spaces". Most don't catch the meaning. "Spaces" plural? There is just one space. There might be trillions of drops falling through it at once, but not for a moment is the continuity of the sky ever broken. Further, the sky in which the rain falls is largely invisible to us. We just see the rain, or maybe the clouds, or birds, or a leaf blown by, some dust, or anything else. Even the Rayliegh Scattering blue seen from below, is not visible from above. Appearance and identity arise in "between".

So consider that like the unbroken clear sky, the true nature of our selves, may very likely be just as unbroken and equally invisible. Yet within the clear light of true self, we take up a shoe, or maybe a sock, we walk in the mud, and sing out or squawk. Those fancy new shoes or colourful socks, or the foot that be wearing them, are like some epiphany or understanding that we thought might solve all of our issues. None of them is ever for a moment, a part of the clear true self. The true self I believe is quietly there and everywhere. Eternally invisible and unbroken by all that arises in it.

Feelings of joy,
Feelings of pain,
Are nothing more,
Than big drops of rain.

The sky unbroken,
Just the rain that we see,
This pain or that joy,
I take to be me.

The clear light of true self,
Just one self it be,
No you and no me.
Just two rainstorms;
Maybe three.

These storms crash about,
Some gather, some flee,
Like populations abound,
Not one individual,
Rather, one indivisible self be we

So sit back and look, rest and see all that you see, and directly experience, that in all of this, not one single drop that's appearing, should be taken to be me