The ‘self’ is not an illusion. There is no illusion to see through. It is a useful fiction like Christmas and Every Second Tuesday. What you are seeing is how you make an operative truth. But that’s for another day.
The trap of deep inquiry is missing the fucking point. Which is life. And if you say, ‘life just happens’, then that’s your evidence for having constructed your own trap (which are available online at SAND).
It’s no surprise that we feel separate from life. What else would a lifetime of abstraction bring? But let’s not throw the baby out with the bathwater. The separation was necessary to develop the abstraction, and now its time to return, boon in the bag. The endless destruction of the planet, war, and McDonalds are all the evidence we need.
Ok, how. How do we pause the relentless abstraction and renew our acquaintance with life? Precision.
I had a teacher for several years who would terrorise us with unconditional love. Precision. Posture. Words. Attitude. Attention. Heart. Intent. Each was a string which when pulled, exposed and unravelled the habits called ‘self’.
The call to precision is a call to re-enter a doorway, an eternal now, an eternal here.
The blackbird eats ivy berries. Precision.
Your entire posture, however it is, is precise.
When you pick up a teaspoon, you might ‘pick up a teaspoon’ and in that abstraction, barely notice the act. Or, you will invite precision to guide the act. It will unveil presence and participation on a whole new level. The teaspoon will scream at you. Reflection, weight, movement, relationship, function, presence.
In attending with precision to the smallest thing, you will indirectly nurture and unfold being. No longer will the obscene abstraction ‘life just happens’ have any place.