Notes on the Journey

Consenting To Hell

Borrowed a talk by Eckhart Tolle from the DVD section at the library – The Flowering of Human Consciousness. I’m always skeptical of people who get money for talking about “spiritual” matters but the way he presents the ideas is simple and practical. He says the ego is a function of our name. Our name is like a basket where we store all the things that happen to us that we identify with. But the ego is like a scrapbook or photo album with the traces, the leavings, the reflections of that label that is our given name. And none of it exists NOW.

He says we are not the contents that are stored under that label, like a fat file folder of documents that attest to the reality of our existence, but we are the spacious stillness that surrounds and carries all of our adventures and memories.

Fukushima Sky

Fukushima Sky

I liked that when I heard it yesterday, but today again I am being eaten alive by my pain body, the permanent conflagration in my spazzed out scoliotic spine and shattered collarbone, along with the toxic shame of all my bad memories, and topped with the prospect of imminent biosphere collapse.

But I am doing what he suggested, and that is – saying “yes” to the “no.” I hate how I feel and I am certain it will never end and I am desperate to escape, to get the hell out of this moment. Don’t wanna Be Here Now. In fact, I wanna kick Ram Dass’s ass for spreading such an insipid idea. However, I AM doing it, like, there IS no escape, so fuck it, sit and stew in it I will. If nothing else I have the ILLUSION that I’m consenting to this hell.

I keep repeating to myself: I am not the story of me. Something is witnessing and enveloping this bullshit. Even tho I have not the foggiest notion of what that could be. Tolle says that by it’s nature it’s beyond notions, ideas and concepts. If I am not my story, not my pain, then, what?

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