I look at this hand and marvel at it, whose is this hand, this 'I' that perceives it?
I
find a definition of 'I' is only a bunch of thoughts that change very
little over the course of my Life, who ever 'my' is, at the very least a
modified version of the basic formulae of thinking .
Whose life, birth, death gone---a mere memory.
Where did this 'I' innocent at birth come from?
Show me your original face before your born questions the Zen Master.
'I' find a blank, a void to this Koan, 'I' lie if an explanation is offered such as God, The Universe, The Big Bang.
At
birth a blank mind, devoid of thought, just an awareness clear and
bright. This pristine, primordial awareness becomes a mind through the
accumulation, the hoarding of thoughts, experiences overlaying the
awareness these are not who 'I' am.
Like
a carpet covering the floor these life time experiences are an
accumulation, a library, they seem to be real, solid, reality, only make
belief, seemingly real.
On
close observation with a faint smile and curiosity it may dawn upon the
observer, this curios witness, that these comings and goings, the
carpet and tapestry of this Life, merely cover the bare boards of
awareness and the real seeker and self inquiry then one may come to the
realization, that there is no real 'I' only a nameless, formless
awareness of the babe and indeed all else is an appearance of reality,
which in shocking truth is an illusion.
Can 'I' live with no concrete 'I' can 'I' give up the carpet and live with bare boards?
Shack
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