May 12, 2019•298 words
Now and then, my weekends are spent in silence. I observe the rise and fall of my stomach as I breathe. Emotions wax and wane as the mind buzzes about.
I see that I am the host, just like the branch of a tree.
Thoughts fly towards and away like birds of various kinds. Mostly, they perch and chirp and sing their songs. Then they flutter and take off.
Thoughts are guests. To be in flux is their natue. It is a simple fact that neither needs to, nor presents a possibility of change. Fighting thought, any thought, is a doomed project by default.
My attention turns to the thinker. Who is thinking? It is important to know because the thinker is not only that branch on the tree where a thought-bird can settle for a while, but is also the one who remains when the thought leaves.
The thinker abides. Therfore, I look at abiding properties.
Body: Decays, and with it all related identifications of name and form disappear.
Mind: More subtle than the body but all its features are mutable. Intellect changes. Memory changes. Thoughts shift and the mightiest of egos can be deflated in an instant.
I keep looking, finding and discarding till there is nothing left that is not transient.
The thinker is non-transient. Therefore, it cannot be a body-mind combination. It is a no-body in the material sense. The thinking is surely there but no-body is thinking.
So when you ask me who I am and I look within, there is no-thing there. I am no-body and that is immensely powerful, for no-body could be any-body. All possibilities remain accessible.