There is nothing, but Allah / Being

[James123]

Ah James, Oh James, Poor James…

 

He tried so desperately to become,

to become good, to become infinite,

to become pure,

to become enlightened,

to become God.

 

He carried the universe on his back,

not knowing it was only thought, only dust.

 

Poor James.

 

The infinite became his prison.

He clung to illusions of forever,

and called it truth.

 

He read scriptures.

He tortured himself with effort.

He sat in meditation, not to rest,

but to achieve,

to conquer silence,

to capture the sky.

 

But James forgot:

 

You cannot possess the wind.

You cannot hold the moon in your fist.

 

And the simple truth is this:

Being is already here.

And in Being,

there is no James to become anything.

 

Poor James.

 

He chased the Divine as if it was elsewhere,

not seeing it was his very breath.

He longed for Love,

never knowing creation was made of it.

 

Poor James.

 

And now he stands before the Truth,

 

Empty-handed.

Exhausted.

No more words.

No more masks.

nothing left to hold,

nowhere left to go.

 

And in that poverty,

in that total collapse of “James,”

something shines.

 

Not as James.

Not for James.

But as What Always Was,

Waiting patiently behind the veil.

 

What remained

was not James.

Not God.

Not infinite. Not even silence.                                        

 

Only Being.

 

And Love,

the reflection of Being,

rose like fire,

and burned James alive,

while he still breathed.

 

Ah James, Oh James, Poor James…

 

What burned him left no ashes,

and what remains is rich beyond measure.

[James123]

After Enlightenment, the mind may does not vanish entirely, but it loses its authority.

Thoughts may still appear, but they no longer veil the One. They are like ripples on the surface of a deep, still lake.

The One is not concerned whether thoughts come or go for he / she no longer identifies with them. Because there is no longer a “someone” caught in the flow.

Moreover, Enlightenment does not end pain. Pain still comes, but it doesn't belong to anyone. One does not become a Superman or infinite or god consciousness 😊 

The mind becomes like a burnt rope. It may appear to have form, but it has no strength.

There is no inner chatter about the future, the past, success, failure, others, or oneself etc.

Only silence remains as the ground of being. But, a silence not created, not practiced, However, revealed as the natural ground of being. All doing happens spontaneously, without the burden of the doer. 

From that stillness, action may arise, but it happens without weight, without effort, without the burden of a doer.

All movement becomes spontaneous, unclaimed, unowned, as natural as wind passing through an open field.

One sees now that the past, present, and future are not truly separate entities.

They do not exist as fixed, real segments of time. Moreover, They only seem to exist when thought brings them up.

When One thinks of five years ago, that image appears in the mind and it feels real, but only now, in this moment of thinking.

Then, The moment attention shifts say, to a memory from three years ago, the previous image vanishes. It has no independent existence. Only the current thought holds space.

For example, if I think of five years ago, it appears real now. But if I shift and think of three years ago, then five years ago disappears. It’s not there anymore, only what I’m thinking now seems to real. Such as think about Brazil now, see it is real now. When the thought ceases, Brazil is gone.

So One sees: time itself is born of thought. Without thought, there is no time. No past to remember, no future to anticipate, only the unbroken Now remains.

So actually, time is just happening in the mind. Without thinking, there is no past or future.

There’s just now, still.

And because, One is no longer investing energy in the stream of thinking, no longer clinging to it for identity or security, the sense of me, the doer, the thinker, the rememberer, is also seen to be false.

It was never a real being, only a collage of impressions, a collection of thoughts referring to themselves.

Once this is clearly seen, what remains is not a new version of self, but the falling away of all self images.

So, After enlightenment, there is no "you", no idea of enlightenment nor "enlightenment".

Only That remains: pure Being, the Self, You, or simply, What Is. Not an achievement, but what is always here. Now. 

Freedom is not escape. Life goes on, but the sense of me or you is gone. Pain may arise, but there is no sufferer. Thoughts come and go, but there is no thinker. Only Now remains, silent, formless, free. One remains in the body, yet untouched by it.

Abide as That.

[James123]

Cry, Cry, Cry, Beloved

 

 

Love doesn’t belong to words. Because this love is older than language. Older than thought. Older than time.

You can’t put it into words, because it was never meant to be spoken.

Only felt, only surrendered to, only burned in.

You can’t speak it,because when you feel it fully, you are no longer there to speak.

There is only the burning. There is only the Beloved, dancing in your chest, lighting the stars again.

So let the fire take you. Don’t try to hold it in words. Just be the silence it leaves behind.

That’s where it lives. That’s where You live. 

Cry, Cry, Cry, beloved,

Like Nafî breathes through the reed,

Each tear a sacred note,

A silent prayer of Being’s heart.

Let your soul weep with the ney’s song,

Falling open, hollowed,

Until love and Being burn away all walls.

This crying is not sorrow,

It is the music of reunion,

The fire that frees the universe.

So cry, and be found,

In the silent embrace of Being,

Where love never ends.

[James123]

In the presence of love, no “me.”

Like a bird, I just fly.

Like a selfless prophet walking across the desert,

There is no destination, no goal,

Only vanishing into love.

 

Like breathing, like flying,

The song expresses itself without you.

The body moves, dances, and speaks without you.

 

So, what remains of you?

Nothing, but the Sky in which all.