The Universe is shaped exactly like the Earth. If you go straight long enough, you end up where you were. – Modest Mouse
There is a deep, dark secret underlying our shared human struggle. There are some who, whether motivated by naivety or a sense of duty, have attempted to remove the wool from our eyes only to find their compassionate dispatches censored, destroyed or locked away by self-appointed puppet masters of the religions that oppress us. The passing of centuries thus untouched by this taboo wisdom habituated us to the oppression until we came to rely on it. Indeed, the 21st Century Western mind knows of no other reality than this carefully crafted fiction that traps each of us in the nightmare of incompatible strains of pride and obsequiousness.
An ubiquitous understanding of unity is a threat to the power structure. If I and my oppressor are one, it follows that I can find emancipation without permission or instruction from a so-called higher authority. At the level of the Ultimate, there are no opposing directions on the path. You can retreat 10 paces only to find that you’ve simultaneously advanced the same distance. Boundaries dematerialize and selves merge into Self; minds interlock like scattered pieces of a jigsaw until the big picture appears to Mind as Mind. Our egos drop off the Godhead like an infestation of fleas exposed to poison.
Sounds of crying, wailing, whining, sighing shake me from my reverie and compete for my attention. From the din, I can discern the anguished voices of friends, loved ones and benefactors. I want to extend a thousand life preservers to my suffering tribe but the only view conducive to the alleviation of suffering is that which acknowledges no tribes. With tears in my eyes, I turn my back and leave them to sink or swim in the churning ocean of delusion.
The only escape from suffering in the fetid swamp of self-absorption is the intimidating process of stinging self-negation. If you believe you have been wronged by another, I cannot help you. If you believe you have been unfairly burdened by circumstance, I cannot help you. If you believe there is a pot of gold at the end of the laborious journey, I cannot help you. If you even believe that there is an end to the laborious journey, I cannot help you. If you think that you are solid, separate and independent, I cannot help you. If you believe in ownership, I cannot help you. If you believe in discrimination between phenomena, I cannot help you. If you understand that you are but a drop from the sea that must return to the sea after having exhausted its usefulness as rain and atmosphere, you do not need my help. If you understand that there is nothing to take personally since all people are but temporary playthings of conscious Unity, you need no comforting.
If you understand that you are not what appears in the looking glass, that solidity and independence are illusions, that you are just one display of phenomena empty of inherent solidity, you have discovered your true identity through its very negation. Those who abide in this knowledge raise no complaints and seek no hands to hold. We never see them because they have abandoned their homes and wandered far from the tribe. We wonder where they’ve gone although they are sitting right beside us, patiently waiting for us to garner the courage to understand what we’re not so that we can start being what we are. We imagine they are exploring exotic lands beyond the horizon while they smile at our folly and wonder when we’ll notice that their destination was this very spot, this very moment. For the journey was one of awareness, not miles. Nirvana is nothing but Samsara seen through eyes possessed of clarity.
Om gate gate paragate parasamgate Bodhi svaha.