Nothing comes to me or for me, except life is unfolding itself – an experience of me.
Do I ever say the mind comes to me? No, I don’t. I take it for granted that “I am” experiencing – I don’t even have a moment of thought that the mind is out from me or in me, neither is it coming for me nor to me. These statements are totally non-existence, non-questioned, irrelevant to me. I simply experience what I am already experiencing, for I have never seen it separated. If I say the mind is for me or to me, I will have an impression that the mind is separated from me. If that is so, I may even choose to reject or accept it, since it is not me. But I don’t. I can’t. I don’t even have that question in the first place, for the experience is simply unfolding me. I and the experiences are not divided. I am the experience.
But what occurs when I am sick? Do I see the sickness as a separation from me, that it is coming to me? That it is not a part of me? If I were to see it that way, I would have resisted the sickness as I am not that. But if I were not to question the sickness but rather an unfoldment of life itself, unfolding me, then the sickness is not a problem. But simply an experience of me.
The news in the papers. The agony, humor and joy of those news. Do I get angry with what I read? Do I feel happy with what I read? Both seems to give me an impression that the news is coming to me, separated from me. Can I tune myself to see it not as out there coming to or for me in here, but rather an experience unfolding, of me. When there is no out there, there is simply no in here too, except experiences unfolding – me. Then I don’t get it personal – for it is simply an unfoldment of me – experiencing. The news is me.
The nitty-gritty complaints of my parents. Is it out there coming to me that I am, in here, feeling so uncomfortable? Or both seemingly existence of in here or out there does not actually exist except life unfolding itself, which is me – just like the mind which I don’t even questioned, experiencing all the time. Could it be the wanting and not wanting the experiences that projects out the meaning of inside and outside me? If I don’t see it separated from me, how then can I reject or held on to it? Totally irrelevant.
Everything I am experiencing, the experience itself, be it a sickness, a meeting of friends, a flu, a career I am working on, an argument I am experiencing, the floor I am standing on, the parents I am facing, my wife’s comments, my joy and grief, the unfairness of the world, the anger of pollution, the dirty feeling of my defecation, the someone dumping rubbish on my doorstep – everything is not out there or in here but unfoldment of me.
Go along in life and explore this new way of seeing things – all experiences is of me, not for me or to me. You will be amazed by what comes out from this space. There is no need for acceptance to come into place for it is of me! Just pure variation of experiences.
Unfoldment experiences .. the unfoldment of me ? hmm…very very interesting word combination. I visualise myself sitting down planning and writing down my life to experience from year XXXX to year XXXX and like clothes, neatly ‘folding’ them according to dates/time to wear; stow them in a ‘cupboard’ and promptly forget their purposes. So my daily question will be “Now why am I wearing this clothes today, what am I reminding myself of today?” .. Won’t there be a lot of ‘duh’ answers bcos, I had planned it? Very amusing thoughts….. lots laundry to do at the end of the ‘day’ … now ‘recycled experiences’ thought comes to mind :-) Finally, why am I doing this? Have I done it before? with much ‘duh’, cyn
Ideas sitting down, ideas planning, ideas writing, ideas questioning – each moment motivated by ideas – all recycled from past conditioning. And suddenly I woke up asking myself: Eh! There is no me in ideas except a broken record replaying its tune. Hmm… who am I without ideas?