By Adam J. Pearson
Such is the madness
Of our present situation
Being freedom itself,
We come to believe we are bound,
And desperately seek to become free,
For the bound self we believe we are.
Being the source of all love,
We come to believe we are unlovable,
And fervently seek to find love,
For the unlovable self we believe we are.
Being awareness itself,
We come to believe we are unaware,
And desperately seek to become aware,
As the unaware self we believe we are.
Being the peace that surpasses understanding,
We come to believe we are agitated,
And passionately seek to attain peace
For the agitated self we believe we are.
Being happiness itself,
We come to believe we are depressed,
And desperately seek to attain happiness
For the depressed self we believe we are.
Being openness itself,
We come to believe we are closed off,
And effortfully try to attain openness
For the closed off self we believe we are.
Being the source of all abundance,
We come to believe we are lacking ,
And desperately seek to attain abundance,
For the deficient self we believe we are.
Being reality itself,
We come to believe we are an imaginary entity,
And try to attain reality
For that imaginary entity.
We come to believe we are two,
And try to attain oneness for
What we see as two.
We come to believe we are bound by time,
And try to attain more time
For the time-bound self we believe we are.
We repeat the same innocent mistake
In a thousand different forms,
How does this seem to happen?
How are we so confused?
It’s a mystery, but it seems
That we forget what we are
By remembering what we’re not,
In an active remembering
That proceeds moment to moment,
Morning to evening,
Thought to thought.
By constantly remembering what we’re not–
The imaginary self we have dreamed up,
A story in a stream of thinking
Posing as ‘me,’
The ‘unlovable self,’ ‘the bound self,’ the ‘sad self,’–
We come to believe that we are what we imagined,
Like a character in a dream,
For so we seem to be.
Attention gets so absorbed in the stories
That produce the imagined sense of reality,
That the reality that’s watching the dreaming of all these seeming selves,
Passes so far into the background
That it seems not to be real at all,
And what was never real
Seems to be the only reality.
Such is the madness
of our present situation…
But there is hope.
True awakening cuts through
All the false remembering
And reveals what always is,
Not what must be become,
Not what must be attained,
But what is, what’s real,
What’s aware, what’s awake,
Not ‘in theory,’ but literally,
Here and now—
What’s free, what’s open,
What’s unbound, what’s timeless,
What was never gained
And so cannot be lost,
Waking up to that, as that,
From that deepest of all sanity,
We see the nature of the madness
Of our present situation…
The freedom that we are
Is so total, so complete,
That we are free to wake up
At any time,
Because what wakes up
To its own awakeness
And equally free are we,
To keep dreaming,
To keep believing,
To keep seeing the unreal as real,
And the real as unreal.
Every moment holds out the possibility:
Keep dreaming, by believing and remembering,
What you’re not, an imaginary separate entity,
Isolated and cut off from life and the world…
Or wake up to what’s aware of these words right now,
What’s aware of the sounds in this room,
What’s aware of all experience
From beyond all experience.
Life is very kind–
The options are simple:
Sleep on or wake up.
If you’re happy with the dream,
Why stir from it?
But if suffering in the dream
Drives you to desperation,
Waking up is always available,
What you are is always available,
Yes, you are what you’re looking for,
And that’s your greatest gift and beauty,
That you need attain or become nothing
To be what you are.
Only wake up,
–here and now–
To what’s awake.
Part of a series on Nonduality: