Free The World is My Mirror by Richard Bates Page B

to elaborate a bit. I am just about to press the plunger down on my coffee pot and pour the first one of the day into my favourite green mug. What could be more real and concrete than that? But none of these objects exist in the form I am giving them. I am simplifying and editing that which is infinite into a few labels that enable me to describe to you through these words an everyday activity that you may also find yourself doing from time to time. There is one scene‌—‌and I am being picky as to what I say is happening. There is no final version that can be reduced down to coffee making; coffee making is an abstraction. There is no coffee making separate from experiencing. Experiencing is appearing to be ‘that’. No separation. Coffee making is an interpretation. The mind is slapping labels again, placing Post-It notes on experience so that it can know and predict.
     
    All that seems to be happening is that stories are appearing to make sense of the infinite that has no time, edge or location. I am spinning yarns to entertain myself and my audience. This is no different from making objects out of cloud formation or believing the Plough constellation to be a real farming implement turning over the clod made out of star dust when night-time comes. The mind, or thought, is doing exactly what it is meant to do: it is creating patterns and joining up the dots.
     
    So, I am saying that abstraction and storytelling are essentially the same thing. Calling a ‘cup’ a cup is no problem. It can form part of our narrative when we tell someone about our favourite one or how we dropped Grandma’s antique one when a child and being slapped for our carelessness. Storytelling is entertaining; there is a kind of magic to it.
     
    But storytelling is a ‘happening’, a current activity. The ideas for our stories appear presently and colour consciousness this way and that. The same editing goes on when we describe the vicissitudes of our love life to our best friend or the way people we know appear to us over time. It is as if the moment we start to talk and think we are adding a chapter to the epic we call ‘me and my life’.
     
    This is why as soon as we start to talk about non-duality it becomes fantasy. We know it’s fantasy because ‘reality’ cannot be talked about directly: there is nothing to talk about. All the words you may hear at a satsang or meeting point to something that cannot be grasped and cannot be pinned down. If you have been to a few meetings or watched YouTube videos of people asking questions, you will notice and feel the frustration of the ‘spiritual’ seeker trying to fit what is being suggested into a familiar framework that underpins our day-to-day stories. Time, purpose and logic appear over and over again. You will not get this; you cannot take it home with you and display it on your mantelpiece.
     
    This is excellent news, however. If you understood It, you would be someone understanding something. You are back to square one. Not knowing is another way of pointing to seamless Wholeness. Not knowing is what’s left when stories are seen as stories. Not knowing is peace. Not knowing is constant wonderment. Not knowing can’t be known. Not knowing is .
     
    Unlike abstraction and stories, experiencing or being need absolutely nothing. You cannot embellish being to make it look more attractive and more exciting; you’ve got diddlysquat to work with. It is already complete as this timelessness right here, right now. Can you see why ‘unconditional love’ is a term that is used frequently? Being asks for nothing and gives everything. You can never leave yourself; yourself can never leave you. There are no parts and no pieces. Prior to appearances‌—‌you are, and with appearances‌—‌you are. If that’s not pointing to completeness and oneness for you, then you are very hard to please. When Wholeness ‘sees’ itself it realises it ‘cannot’ see itself; it is itself. Silence