I have seen my work change radically over the space of a couple of years and as life has taken me on this journey, I have seen myself move from speaking about meeting emotions fully to Non-Doership.

I feel another change occurring now as I find myself moving away from Non-Doership, feeling that I have adequately covered the subject and falling more into silence. So how then to communicate that which has no words? It is an interesting conundrum and yet from that silence words appear. And I feel as if more will appear. But not from a place of Non doership but something so much more profound.

The silence.

I recently completed a series of livestreams in which this idea of silence kept appearing. I was in Devon in the United Kingdom at the time and if I were to visually represent my understanding of this silence. It would appear as a moon lighting the night sky with its reflection across the water.

Everything appears calm and still and yet activity is still occurring.

The waves are still rising and falling and the whole play of the ocean being the ocean is happening and yet there is no reference point to it.

Similarly, the exact same thing is happening in our lives. Despite appearance there is this same calm which underpins all things. It is in this place that we truly are. Glimpses of this place are generally known as awakenings, accepting this place is Realisation.

It is our natural way of being and as such requires no journeying to, no practise, no methodology, no pointer. It simply is. It is known and yet not known, choosing as it does to embrace both sides of the coin. Any attempt to codify or turn it into some structured teaching always collapse and yet this attempt to teach although failing still provides us with a glimpse, a roadmap.

Ultimately though even glimpses and pointers must be let go of. Indeed, the one trying must be let go of. This exposes the so-called story as an illusion, as unreal and a natural letting go and a natural recognition occurs. In this recognition the ideas that have formed about what this is are put down and life is seen as is. This constant unknowing, this singularity in which the idea of another cannot exist, holds every idea about it and no idea about it. It is random and non-consequential and yet intelligent and purposeful. It appears in a myriad of forms all pointing back to itself and yet it is not separate from any pointer of it. It is immediate and yet even time or words cannot capture its true essence. They are merely a mirror reflecting that which is no longer needed when the singularity is accepted. If indeed even an acceptance is needed. It is simply this and even that is a complication.

And yet sometimes this singularity wishes to be known and starts this journey back to itself. It is the lover looking for the beloved not realising it is the very beloved it is looking for. A divine play, a silent mystery. A question constantly answering itself with no one asking the question and no one answering the question.

Simply put. It is this…