A little contemplation on the spirit

What is it to be one? What is it to be everything? And what is it to be nothing?

Could it be that all these are the same. Infinity and Zero, both somehow beyond grasp.



I so much enjoy a poem by Rumi on this subject, "this world which is made of our love for emptiness.



Praise to the emptiness that blanks out existence. Existence:
this place made from our love for that emptiness!
Yet somehow comes emptiness,
this existence goes.
Praise to that happening, over and over!

For years I pulled my own existence out of emptiness.
Then one swoop, one swing of the arm,
that work is over.
Free of who I was, free of presence, free of
dangerous fear, hope,
free of mountainous wanting.

The here and now mountain is a tiny piece of a piece
straw
blown off into emptiness.

These words I'm saying so much begin to lose meaning:
existence, emptiness, mountain, straw: words
and what they try to say swept
out the window, down the slant of the roof



I like to consider a question, what is the thing that seperates us from God? Could it actually be our thoughts, not some other eleborate thing.

Thoughts create our world, they are the building blocks. Laws are made of thoughts, Nations are made of beliefs or you might say thoughts. When a child says what he wants to be when he grows up, he is conveying his belief in our thoughts.
So these thoughts are also the source of illusion. And if you look closely at what happens when we think, you will find that a, "thought" is always existing in the past or the future. Meaning two worlds that only exist in our minds. Reality is only living in the present moment. The moment that moves by like water in a stream, and is unable to be grasped. Unable to be possesed, it can be only witnessed, without thoughts.

Right now, I am not going to go deeper into this subject, I just wanted to ask the question.


Now here is a recent poem that popped into my head.


Prentending to be
of some form, or shape
I ride the thoughts

What is it to be, who I am?
Who I am
and not this

Swimming in illusions
Engrossed in material things
able to be impressed upon

But when I close my eyes
Oh yes, when my sight is gone
a bit of the illusion vanishes

Oh what it would be, to be, who I am
Who I am
And not this!

Love wells beyond sight
beyond hearing and beyond smell

And that I see my love in me
we are the same
I need no longer say, "I"

This is who I am,
who I am,
And not that!