Silence Speaking
If ever you were looking for something—like a magical switch, something that you could share with friends, family, colleagues, or people you know in recovery or in perpetual suffering—then this wonderful story inspired by Fred and adapted and read by Glenda, may just be what you have been waiting for.
The body is not me or mine.
I am formless and prior to the body.
I am that from which all appearances, including the body, arise.
The body is not me.
The mind is not me or mine, nor are emotions.
I am formless and prior to all thought or inclination.
I am that, from which all appearances, rise.
The mind is not me.
I feel that I am, but what I am, is prior to language.
Whatever it is that I am, I can only be that, which precedes good or evil,
light or dark, tall or small.
I am that, from which all sets of opposites, appear to arise.
There is no opposite to me, no comparison, nor any alternative.
Neither time nor space are me or mine.
I am that, which is before time, before space, before the dreaming of experiencing.
My apparent absence, is the mother of all presence, within which space,
time, and experience, seem to occur.
Upon the spontaneous dream arising, of a sense of consciousness, or being,
which occurs simultaneously, with the sense of body birth, I dream that I am a knower.
I dream, that I know, that I am.
With apparent body death, or even the little death of dreamless sleep, my dream of consciousness also drops away.
There is no knowing either that I am, or that I am not.
There is simply no knowing.
There is void, and only void, whose empty nature, paradoxically overflows, with the divine potentiality, for this, and experiencing this.
The barren womb of no thingness, births the dream of fullness, and together, they are called love.
There is love, more love, endless love, only love, and I, am, that.
Repetition is the mother of clarity, so, here is my story again.
The body is not me or mine.
I am formless, and prior to the body.
I am that from which all appearances, including the body, arise.
The body is not me.
The mind is not me or mine, nor are emotions.
I am formless and prior to all thought or inclination.
I am that, from which all appearances, rise.
The mind is not me.
I feel that I am, but what I am, is prior to language.
Whatever it is, that I am, I can only be that which precedes, good or evil,
light or dark, tall or small.
I am that, from which all sets of opposites, appear to arise.
There is no opposite to me, no comparison, nor any alternative.
Neither time nor space are me, or mine.
I am that, which is before time, before space, before the dreaming of experiencing.
My apparent absence, is the mother, of all presence, within which space,
time, and experience, seem to occur.
Upon the spontaneous dream arising, of a sense of consciousness, or being,
which occurs simultaneously, with the sense of body birth, I dream, that I am a knower.
I dream, that I know, that I am.
With apparent body death, or even the little death, of dreamless sleep,
my dream of consciousness, also drops away.
There is no knowing either that I am, or that I am not.
There is simply, no knowing.
There is void and only void, whose empty nature, paradoxically overflows, with the divine potentiality, for this, and experiencing this.
The barren womb of no thingness, births the dream of fullness, and together, they are called love.
There is love, more love, endless love, only love, and I, am, that.
