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Many live within me—angels, devils, beasts, and men. A society of broken voices, chanting ancient, aching thirst. In me dwells the world I inhabit.
When I look outside, I am partial; a fragment of a boundless whole. But when I turn inside, I am the boundless: the being of which all partakes.
The is-ness of all that is arises of its own accord. A being-and-knowing that echoes as self within and world without. But itself, it is neither here nor there. No name can land upon it, though it sounds in every breath.
May our breath move in worship,
Simeon
The nameless is the origin of Heaven and Earth
The named is the mother of myriad things
Thus, constantly without desire, one observes its essence
Constantly with desire, one observes its manifestations
These two emerge together but differ in name
The unity is said to be the mystery
Mystery of mysteries, the door to all wonders
— Tao Te Ching, translated by Derek Lin
Suggested Reading
I Am That by Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj
Few books speak so directly to the intuition that the boundless is not “out there” but the very fact of awareness itself. Nisargadatta relentlessly dissolves the imagined fragmentation between self and world, knower and known, until only the simple, luminous “I Am” remains.
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