There is what is happening. And there are a gazillion stories about this happening. 

​

Here is another one.

​

Each story that is being lived seems to have a hero or villain at the centre. Me. Me & The Story of My Life.

​

Me and my life and my journey to live the best life that I can through great ambition, intentions and decisions. To avoid all discomfort and live in forever in peace before death comes and takes me away.

​

Me who can become wealthy, revered or despised. Me who can become enlightened, impoverished, down and out,  cured, saved, better, more at peace, more in love, more calm, more beautiful, less depressed, more happy. Pick your dream me. Become it. Because apparently you can chose. 

​

Me on a permanent merry go round of becoming a better me. However better is seen to be.

​

In this journey, everything and anything appear to happen in the pursuit of completeness. And all of it is happening to me. Me. Even the rain doesn't just fall. It falls on me. 

​

This rollercoaster ride can become dissatisfying in it's never enough ness. The explanations, beliefs, descriptions and stories that have been the anchors in life can become less solid. The sense of success only lasting moments. The arrival train never staying in the station too long. Even spiritual enlightenment, the prize jewel in becoming looses it's attraction. Cracks can appear in the story of me and my life. Cracks that can be too big to ignore. Me and a vast boundless eternal universe. Me and my emptiness. Me. What can me do now when all that me knows and has acquired is not enough? 

​

There is a communication available. It's words appear to describe something radically alternative to the story of me, my life and becoming a better me. This description appears to say, there is what is and what is not. This description suggests that there is no you doing or choosing anything. No you to have a life. This sharing or communication does not see a you to fix or improve, make whole or complete. Just a sharing. No one that owns this communication or has something. Just sounds and descriptions mingling. No you and no me.  No you growing the hairs on your arms, no you beating your heart, growing your nails, doing your sneezing, coughing, thinking and making all those wonderful and terrible choices. No you that can feel less anxious. No you that can become a better you. No you and emptiness. No you seeking oneness. No you and longing. Simply no you. Just longing appearing. Just what is. However  that is.

 

This communication suggests there is no time, no location, no place, no here or there. Just what is.  And in this what is, all the stories can unwind and what's left is 'something appearing to happen'. Feelings, thoughts, sounds anything and everything appearing to happening. A life without the story of how life is.

​

This alive heart thumping communication can be heard as horrible, boring, dull, disgusting, nihilistic and utterly liberating. It's heard how it's heard. The suggestion is, there is no one doing that hearing or that reaction. Just the reaction.

​

And this what is, is boundless and absolutely nothing at the same time. Full to the brim and empty to the core. It is utter unconditional love. Because it is just what is. And it includes everything and nothing.

​

What is cannot be avoided, negotiated with or accepted. What is cannot be lost or found. What is cannot be owned, bargained with, exchanged, shared or even explained. What is cannot be attained or a state that can be held on to. And yet any of those attempts is also what is. It's this. Already. In, of and as what is happening. 

​

And it's not a this or an it's. Your anchors can never find an ocean floor.

​

It appears that this life of becoming can be lost. And what remains is ordinary life. With no one left to get life. Already. And always. And a recognition that all stories are the dream including this one. Oh and that not a single thing is real.

​

Still. Watch out for that bus, that belly, the tax man and dog poo.

​

Because what is left is life but you don't get to get it. Exactly what is. Exactly how it is now. However and whatever is appearing. Spectacularly ordinary.  Wonderfully unknowable. But also the wonder that any knowing is the dream.

​

Answer the door baby. It's what is and is not and it aint going to leave.

​

There isn't a someone who is a no one who knows this. Already, there is no one. Already just those thoughts.

​

What you get is what is happening. And all the stories that come with are included but somehow seen as a story. Including this one. A total fucking story.

​

Because all there is, is what's happening.

​

This. However it is. For no one. And it's not a this.

​

x