Doyle - The Mirage of Separation

The Mirage of Separation THE MIRAGE OF SEPARATION Billy Doyle Non-Duality Press First published March 2008 by Non-Duality Press Billy Doyle 2008 Billy Doyle has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as author of this work. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the Publishers. Typeset in Dante 12/16 & Syntax 11/16 Cover image: Landscape by Sesshu Toyo, Tokyo National Museum Non-Duality Press, Salisbury, SP2 8JP United Kingdom. ISBN 978-0-9558290-0-0 www.non-dualitybooks.com When you step back from stressing the parts, when the mind becomes still, the rose comes to you, unfolds in you in all her glory. The perfume invades you completely.

The rose is you. You are one. Jean Klein Introduction These writings come from a non-dualistic perspective. Our focus is on the nature of our real identity. Until we come to know it, we are lost in a world of ignorance. Our basic mistake, and from which all other mistakes arise, is to identify ourselves with an object: the body-mind.

In doing so we lose sight of our true nature, conscious-ness, pure awareness, taking ourselves to be an expression of life, rather than life itself. Thereby we become engrossed in the world of a personalised I; it is this pseudo-I that usurps our real identity. This I-image, the ego, is no more than a collection of shifting ideas and experiences, with no independent reality. In taking ourselves to be a separate entity we have come adrift from our homeground, and inevitably fear and desire arise. In compensation we pursue happiness and security and try to escape pain and sorrow. It is only when we understand the illusionary nature of this projection that we become open to our real nature, that which is beyond the mind.

The Self is not something new to be attained, for it ever is; it has only to be recognized. However we can never know the Self as we would an object, for it is the ultimate knower, neither perceivable, nor conceivable; we can only be it. Its nature is self-luminous. Billy Doyle January 2008 Index of first lines The Mirage of Separation there was life then there was life and somebody living life then there was life but nobody living life then there was life can I live with the question never touching it waiting for the sun to rise not anticipating the colours living in this not-knowing waiting for the inhalation dissolving with the exhalation letting the question take its form letting the answer say what it must the great understanding is that you can never understand the great relief of seeing no matter how hard I try I can never understand I have to leave it to it that is the understanding the mind can never take you to the understanding but the heart already knows the fool says I have understood but when understanding takes place there is no one left to say I have understood in truth there is nothing to understand and there is nobody to understand it time is not where is time when youre not thinking or in deep sleep the past, memory, is just a present thought the future, also a present thought the present moment, illusive the instant you try to grasp it, its gone theres only the timeless present the eternal now you say the journey needs time but who needs time inventing time is itself the problem be free of time and its inventor rest in the eternal where time does not encroach were invited to sit at the kings table and worried whether we will eat today we stand in front of the divine and talk of the power we experienced at a shrine we stand in the divine and discuss how we can find it we are the very Self and ask what practice to do to attain it what comedy do we have here on hearing the fish in the water was thirsty, Kabir laughed if the nightingale asks me for instruction how to sing, what am I to say if I visit you in your home and you tell me youre not there how am I to believe you if the Self says it does not know the Self what deceit is this the Self cannot be other than the Self even if it tries to masquerade as the fool the sunlight cannot penetrate through the thick foliage of the jungle reality cannot penetrate the thick layers of our defence let go your resistance drop your shoulders and let yourself breathe put away your armour and give the light just a chance to see the orchid you need to get off the express train simplify your life stop day-dreaming take a retreat from the I-concept and the paraphernalia of trying to be somebody then see whats in front of your eyes Proprietor: Can I help you? Customer: What can I get here? Proprietor: There is nothing to get, but tell me what you are looking for. Customer: Peace, happiness. Proprietor: There are no promises here, we have no carrots and no sugar lumps.

Customer: So whats the deal? Proprietor: You have to give everything and expect nothing. Are you still interested? Customer: Thats why Ive come, the enticements of the world have proved hollow. But what must I pay? Proprietor: You have to pay with your dreams, fantasies, images, every vanity, your past, your future, and every last cent. Customer: It sounds very reasonable, but do I not get to keep anything? Proprietor: If you still want to keep something youve come to the wrong establishment. These are our strict regulations. Customer: So what will be left? Proprietor: Why do you ask me such a question? Are you not finished with the toys of the phenomenal world? All that is unreal will be taken away from you.

What remains youll have to wait and see. But perhaps you should go to the establishment down the road; they have a three-year course with a recognised certificate at the end. Customer: No, no, I have a drawer full. But could I think about it and come back tomorrow? Proprietor: We dont do tomorrows. There is no time. the ego seems to take on a life of its own and like the devil likes to play tricks what to do with this slippery customer who craves attention best ignore it and enjoy your cup of tea the little I that has taken up residence inside the head likes to appropriate everything for itself only seeing from its blinkered standpoint claiming to be the doer and thinker the enjoyer and sufferer only in the clear light of day is it seen for what it is the usurper of the Self and vanquished to dust what you really desire is me you may think it is that new car but what you really desire is me you may think it is that other woman but what you really desire is me you may play fast and loose but I know what you really want is me one day when youve had your fun youll just have to admit it what you really desire is me desire is a black hole impossible to fill nothing in space and time can satiate its appetite it devours everything and still seeks for more only that beyond space and time fulfills its longing and leaves it desireless when youve gone to the four corners of the earth searched under every stone had lovers throughout the seven seas explored the eleven dimensions spoken to all the wise beings its time to come home and sit by your own fire and see what youve never seen just waiting for you bring back your centre of gravity scattered over the four winds enticed by every fickle promise of the world and let it embed itself in the only reality why do we impose form on the formless make words of that which is silence why localize that which is non-localized why reduce to a little me that which is the vastness why capture the bird that soars in the skies and enclose it in a cage when you take yourself to be with form you will see the other also with form and project deities possessing form when you have understood you are formless what other can there be and who is there to see them when you use the word I let it be free of all images let it be free of I am this, I am that when you use the word I let it be free of yesterday and tomorrow let it reside in timelessness let it resonate in space without any border without any centre let all the small Is dissolve back into it do not try to grasp or touch it with the mind for it is always beyond, and yet closer this I, you can only be pure subjectivity non-differentiation dont clutter beauty with personal pronouns form is an expression of the formless time is an expression of the timeless words are an expression of the wordless all that is perceived is within the perceiver so why emphasise the outer forgetting the inner let form come back to the formless let time come back to the timeless let words come back to the wordless let the perception come back to the perceiving let all rest in its homeground after eliminating each layer that you are not body, senses, mind and arriving at nothing dont stop there, proceed and eliminate the nothing in the Self there is neither Arab or Jew black or white Hutu or Tutsi high caste or low caste male or female remove the coat of paint and only consciousness is revealed the Self only sees the Self the scent of the rose is not in the flower it is in you the sound of the Beethoven quartet is not in the instruments it is in you the taste of the mango is not in your mouth it is in you the poem is not on the page it is in you the sunset is not in the sky it is in you meditation a practice no one can practise abandoning all hope free of a doer no intention or goal accepting and surrendering all that arises going nowhere for where would one go and who is there to go giving all to the moment the moment that cannot be thought not knowing, not knowing, not knowing there is not when the clay pot breaks where is the space inside and outside where is the you and the me the here and there the rising and the setting the day and the night the pure and the impure there is not volition is the devil makes you think you can attain but the ultimate is not to be attained all volition ensnares you deeper into the black pit of illusion thinking youve achieved something your compassion for the world is admirable but where is the compassion for the Self smothered beneath a mountain of concepts it can barely breathe see through the illusion of being a separate entity of being I am this, I am that and let the Self breathe forth fighting the ego is a great battle that monster from the underworld every minute you must be vigilant and ready to take up sword but does the creature really exist have the sightings been verified are they any more than your thoughts are you not wrestling with a phantom where is the ego when youre not inventing it the ego is as sticky as glue all the debris collects round it producing karmic layering burying you deep in your individuality but to the Self nothing can cling being nothing, insults pass unregistered praise, adulation likewise nothing invades sacred space for there is nothing outside and nothing to defend the winds of thought puff up the sails of the ego and blow you hither and thither from crest to trough from pleasure to pain but if you just observe these thoughts with disinterest they will subside and the sails of the ego will go slack and you will be one with the ocean not the faintest whiff of objectivity not a speck of its corrosive dust no-thing to touch or see and no-body touching or seeing where past and future have no echo no borders, only I Maybe you know this story: There was once a fish called Agonda that heard of this marvellous thing called water. the ego seems to take on a life of its own and like the devil likes to play tricks what to do with this slippery customer who craves attention best ignore it and enjoy your cup of tea the little I that has taken up residence inside the head likes to appropriate everything for itself only seeing from its blinkered standpoint claiming to be the doer and thinker the enjoyer and sufferer only in the clear light of day is it seen for what it is the usurper of the Self and vanquished to dust what you really desire is me you may think it is that new car but what you really desire is me you may think it is that other woman but what you really desire is me you may play fast and loose but I know what you really want is me one day when youve had your fun youll just have to admit it what you really desire is me desire is a black hole impossible to fill nothing in space and time can satiate its appetite it devours everything and still seeks for more only that beyond space and time fulfills its longing and leaves it desireless when youve gone to the four corners of the earth searched under every stone had lovers throughout the seven seas explored the eleven dimensions spoken to all the wise beings its time to come home and sit by your own fire and see what youve never seen just waiting for you bring back your centre of gravity scattered over the four winds enticed by every fickle promise of the world and let it embed itself in the only reality why do we impose form on the formless make words of that which is silence why localize that which is non-localized why reduce to a little me that which is the vastness why capture the bird that soars in the skies and enclose it in a cage when you take yourself to be with form you will see the other also with form and project deities possessing form when you have understood you are formless what other can there be and who is there to see them when you use the word I let it be free of all images let it be free of I am this, I am that when you use the word I let it be free of yesterday and tomorrow let it reside in timelessness let it resonate in space without any border without any centre let all the small Is dissolve back into it do not try to grasp or touch it with the mind for it is always beyond, and yet closer this I, you can only be pure subjectivity non-differentiation dont clutter beauty with personal pronouns form is an expression of the formless time is an expression of the timeless words are an expression of the wordless all that is perceived is within the perceiver so why emphasise the outer forgetting the inner let form come back to the formless let time come back to the timeless let words come back to the wordless let the perception come back to the perceiving let all rest in its homeground after eliminating each layer that you are not body, senses, mind and arriving at nothing dont stop there, proceed and eliminate the nothing in the Self there is neither Arab or Jew black or white Hutu or Tutsi high caste or low caste male or female remove the coat of paint and only consciousness is revealed the Self only sees the Self the scent of the rose is not in the flower it is in you the sound of the Beethoven quartet is not in the instruments it is in you the taste of the mango is not in your mouth it is in you the poem is not on the page it is in you the sunset is not in the sky it is in you meditation a practice no one can practise abandoning all hope free of a doer no intention or goal accepting and surrendering all that arises going nowhere for where would one go and who is there to go giving all to the moment the moment that cannot be thought not knowing, not knowing, not knowing there is not when the clay pot breaks where is the space inside and outside where is the you and the me the here and there the rising and the setting the day and the night the pure and the impure there is not volition is the devil makes you think you can attain but the ultimate is not to be attained all volition ensnares you deeper into the black pit of illusion thinking youve achieved something your compassion for the world is admirable but where is the compassion for the Self smothered beneath a mountain of concepts it can barely breathe see through the illusion of being a separate entity of being I am this, I am that and let the Self breathe forth fighting the ego is a great battle that monster from the underworld every minute you must be vigilant and ready to take up sword but does the creature really exist have the sightings been verified are they any more than your thoughts are you not wrestling with a phantom where is the ego when youre not inventing it the ego is as sticky as glue all the debris collects round it producing karmic layering burying you deep in your individuality but to the Self nothing can cling being nothing, insults pass unregistered praise, adulation likewise nothing invades sacred space for there is nothing outside and nothing to defend the winds of thought puff up the sails of the ego and blow you hither and thither from crest to trough from pleasure to pain but if you just observe these thoughts with disinterest they will subside and the sails of the ego will go slack and you will be one with the ocean not the faintest whiff of objectivity not a speck of its corrosive dust no-thing to touch or see and no-body touching or seeing where past and future have no echo no borders, only I Maybe you know this story: There was once a fish called Agonda that heard of this marvellous thing called water.