On humble desire

First we say, let it be done to me according to your word. And that’s overwhelming, because God’s word is everything, not just some things. God’s word teaches us to pay attention to the quality of impermanence: it’s both “letting go of pleasure” and “steeling yourself for aversion.” Each has their way of conveying God’s real presence. It’s just–we’ll miss it if we fail to learn to let go and steel ourselves. The lesson is held in trust until we learn the skill. [bxA]

Next we say “I want to see.” Only when we realize we’re blind, that we’d miss the messiah standing right in front of us; only then does this come out of the depths. And even then, maybe our eyes, when they open, open only just a little. We end up saying “I can see people, but they look like trees, walking.” A further touch from Jesus is necessary to see things as they are.

Egos want things to be exclusively pleasant. When we run into our non-self, who is the “Christ within” then he himself provides a way of wanting everything. When his words “if this cup cannot pass unless I drink it, thy will be done”--when these words come from your mouth as if they are your own, then you learn why preference, choice, and judgment can be harmful. As you learn this, ego loosens its grip.

Ego is a muscle of survival, not a muscle of adaptability or thriving. All day you are surrounded by somebodies, saying “here he is” and “there he is.” Do not go off in pursuit. After a while all those somebodies prove shifty, die off. Within and without, things get very quiet. Luckily, amidst your crowd of thoughts, there is one who embodies full acceptance. He is you, but he is not the “you” that’s familiar. He is a nobody, not a somebody, and he’s calling you to become nobody as well.

“The Word/Silence paradox is a person, and he is within you.” This is a hard saying, but true. The blind man, who didn’t know his healer because the latter had escaped into the crowd of thoughts, was asked “do you believe in the son of Man?” and he responded, “Who is he, sir, tell me so that I may believe in him.” The healer said “I am the one who is speaking to you.” The message: when quiet is so deep that it moves inside you and speaks, when absence, gazing back at you, blinks first. Even after everything else is silent, what speaks in that silence is Christ incarnate. And this can be anything. The sound of the wind, the pop of rain on a copper roof: anything you hear with the open ear of selflessness, instead of an ear closed by ego. After silence, what’s left is Christ.

Christ is nobody, silence enfleshed. He does nothing, has nothing to offer. But he takes that and multiplies it: all this means is “becoming nobody is totally safe and healthy.” To him who has not, even what he has will be taken away. Blessed are those who take no offense.