Silence: The Teacher

Words don't communicate. Conversations don't happen. Minds don't communicate.

What is communication, between two people, or within our "self talking" itself? These thoughts, we call communication are composed of words.

By their very nature, words and sentences are causal. They rely on sequence. Inextricably tied to time, they can never express timeless Reality. Consciousness, Beingness, is truly outside of time.

What are these words made of?

Sounds.

These words you are reading appear as sounds within you. Nothing more.

What are the sounds comprised of? What is their substance? Where is their border? Where do they begin and end?  What surrounds, supports and sustains them? Where is the life they seem to enjoy?

Here is the gold.

Are they not supported by that which actually communicates? And is this not Beingness itself, Spaceless Space, Awareness, Aliveness, Radiance, Intelligence, Love? Consider this majestic discovery.

These sounds "heard" are constructed by thinking into words and compiled into sentences.

It is Beingness itself, only, communicating only with itself.

Sri Ramana Maharshi pointed out the potency of silence as the teacher:
“Such mouna [silence] is not inertness but great activity. It is the most powerful speech.”

Really, where is this awareness, this beingness, this spaceless space? Where does it begin and end? What gives the impression that this Presence starts with one bag of flesh and bones and ends at the beginning of another bag of flesh and bones. Can any boundary be found? Is this border something directly experienced or something assumed? Does this belief in the multiplicity of "others" actually have any real evidence in experience?

There are never two people talking, two minds having a conversation.

Look closely. It is only ever Beingnesss itself birthing, supporting and enjoying these things we call sounds, sounds which provoke what we mistakenly think is the source of the happiness.

The words do not transfer happiness. Happiness is the discovery of Beingness enjoying itself. That's the whole magnificent creation.

This Beingness, once it notices itself, once it knows itself, once it disrobes itself from the apparent conversation that seems to occur, reveals itself as Love, nothing more, nothing less, Pure Love, which gently, so gently, births, embraces and offers itself as these things we experience in ignorance as objects, as separate things with powers to give our separate sense of selves the happiness we crave.

It is the great joke of all time.
What was searched for, is doing this searching.

This is the magnificent secret; love is the only thing there is, parading about as chairs, tables, air, breathing, bodily sensations, aches, color, thoughts, dogs, cats, spouses, spoons, smells, even pain, outrage and sadness.

This love gently embraces sensing thinking feeling. How could these sensations, perceptions and feelings even appear without love offering them up to that Stillness, this nothingness that dresses up as everything.

Stillness Speaks.