I sat 45 minutes tonight. I meant to lie down for the first half and then to sit up so that I could trace details about the difference I’ve noticed between dull ground when lying, and full-on rigpa when sitting upright. But I mistakenly sat upright the whole time.
I feel powerless to write anything adequate after doing one of John’s sequences: Just wow. And it isn’t the kind of wow I gain from jhanas, which are comparatively crude and coarse. This is the stateless state, an air more refined than a fanciful sprite, the very being.
First there is some concentration, attuning to the sound/silence, the sensation/stillness, and the vision/space. Then there is the mother and the infant. The innocence and complete openness of each gazing into the eyes of the other, resting into the sweet voice of the other, resting into the warm body of the other.
This effortless innocence, this timeless primordial innocence rests, rests into the ground, the stability. Over and over and over. It is utterly transient, ephemeral; yet it is stable. It is always already found to be functioning as that into which all continually dissolves, melts. I remember when I believed that “just letting go” couldn’t happen; it had to be preceded and triggered by insight of some kind, seeing into one of the Three Characteristics. At a former level of practice, that is true. But that is all over now. I understand what Daniel meant when he told me that the Three Characteristics just disappear.
And so the agent of awakening, now recognized, can take over, do the effortless work of unraveling the remaining subtle hideouts of reactivity, contraction, effort. All I “do” is rest, sit and rest into X as ground, X as mother. Open as innocence, so there is no contamination of effort, of specific agent. Simple, Fresh, Contented, and Uninterrupted.
Gently, awareness rests into the root chakra, then into the sweetness in the lower belly, which is as delicate as gently spread-open petals. Then there is the energy sponge of the solar plexus, heavy with liquid gold, power, heat, humming.
And then, my eyes now open, all these centers of energy can all be open flow. And the breath moves through the whole field of them, washing through all, as all stay opened, released and therefore further releasing.
Other people who have corrected dualistic misperception will say that this way of living is ordinary. I myself have heard them say so. But ordinary is emphatically the wrong word. This unbounded wholeness is soft and tepid because real, but it is the most wondrous of wonders. Every day that I live now, I am continually in awe that this is even possible, that it has actually happened, that I’m this fortunate. All is magick. All is lush. All is sacred. We are alive, after all, and, as John says, knowing that to be so, knowing separateness to be mere avidyā, is nothing less than spooky.