Thought is what brings about separation. It’s both the only way to experience separation and the reason I experience it. Thinking pulls me out of being. So I can’t experience perfect, peaceful being by thinking my way to it. I can get asymptotically close but I only get that final step when there is no thought. And I find there are no steps. I get there from anywhere. I don’t have to get “close” first. Because I AM there.
It seems I achieve this uninterrupted state of being several times a day without realizing it and every night when I fall into a dreamless sleep and every time I faint or go under general anesthesia or “lose myself” in an activity or conversation. Perfect being. Perfect unseparated oneness.
When I mistakenly think myself separate from this oneness, I grab onto imaginary hand holds to keep myself from drowning in it. But when I recognize the mistake, I can let go of “the side of the pool” of thought and give myself over to what is, and allow myself to float where it takes me.
But it doesn’t “take me” anywhere.
Oneness is the only thing that is not going anywhere. There’s nowhere for me to go when everything is me. I am already there. When I release my grip on all the imaginary things I would cling to for safety and security I finally STOP being taken anywhere.
When I let go of the side of the pool of thought, the pool flies away and I am STILL.
Oneness is stillness.
The dream world of thought, of imagination, of past/future, of “events,” of “other people” is what is moving, swirling, flailing, thrashing. The pool side I’m holding onto is what shakes me, takes me to “places” that scare me or please me or find me or lose me.
Which can be a lot of fun. That’s why I do it. But when it stops being fun...
Awareness of what’s thinking, of what’s witnessing what’s thinking, and of what’s witnessing what’s witnessing, allows me to recognize the truth of what I really am.
To fully realize my true being, I have to let go of thought and BE.
Letting go returns me to the unmoving center.
Except it’s not a “return” because I’ve never “left” it. I AM it. Always. It's just that I sometimes miss it when I’m believing my thoughts. The same way I often do when I’m watching a movie.
Just like when I’m watching a movie, I can sometimes remain awake to the non-reality of it, the non-“me”ness of what appears to be happening, and experience it without attaching to it.
I recognize that I can let go of the drama, the exotic locales, heroes and villains, the pace, the danger, the frenetic motion. I can “tune it out.” I can even “turn it off.”
And when I do, where do I find myself?
Right here.
Still.
Peaceful.
Complete.