Layam

 

"Layam vraja: Dissolve now!" ~Ashtavakra Gita

Why not dissolve this quest for certainty, for order, for a 'path'? Dissolve into a blessed chaos of electrons, which is truly all we are. And what if the All of the cosmos is encircled by every electron?

Being is enough. Being is miraculous. Being is an ever-perishing and rebirthing Radiance.

Vanish into that Radiance without imposing any concept, any story, any past upon it. This is causeless ecstasy.

At the deepest order of resolution, there is no resolution. There is no order. There is only annihilation, making room, restoring emptiness. This is the fructifying darkness.

The apparently solid world rests in groundless dissolution. This is “the fall of man” into bliss.

The Source is an all-pervading vacuum, where quantum particles instantaneously appear and disappear on a tumbling ocean of formlessness, as atoms, stars, mountains, tulips, human faces, in the warp and woof of the void.

For what "purpose" do these quanta disappear and re-appear each instant? To dance. To play. This is Lila-Shakti. There is no continuity, no incremental "progress." Each moment is Omega, the final end, a radical upheaval that springs from the catastrophic dissolution of the previous moment. This is only lasting condition: Wonder.

"Destiny" and "evolution" are mere thoughts, veils in which we cloak the causeless ineffable explosion of Now. We superimpose our ideas of order, history, or a "divine plan" upon the wild granular discontinuous void. But when we have the courage to relinquish notions and concepts notions, we get dazzled by a fierce onslaught of compassion.

The messy blessed anarchy of creation spills from the womb of divine darkness for no other reason but loving-kindness.

You don't need to conceptualize this mad message with your mind, because there is no mind. Mind is just a momentary fire-dance of axons in your brain and spinal cord: the Burning Bush. Moses gazed into the sparkling tree of his own nervous system, and heard the voice of God. So can you. Just listen with your photons.

There is no way to understand because there is nothing under you to stand on. Feel the blessing of groundlessness. Taste it as communion wine. Hear it fermenting in silence as a carillon of bees drowning in the soma juice of your synaptic blossoms.

This sound is the source of all mantras, all sutras, the origin of the Vedas and the Torah. It is God's Word, the echo of the big bang in each neutrino of your body.

The subtle interior sound has been called "shabda" in Yogic tradition, "the still small voice within" in the West. This familiar phrase was taken from Elijah's experience of God's voice on Mount Horeb, recounted in 1 Kings, chapter 19.

In the Biblical Hebrew, Elijah hears the voice as “qol d’mumah daqah.” Literally this does not translate as "still small voice," but as “sound of finely ground silence,” which is a precise description of energy at the quantum level, where the vacuum fluctuates in waves, vibrations of no-thing bubbling up into sub-nuclear particles.

You too are immersed in this juicy mess of music. It is your flesh. Your body has no edges. Who are you? You are the ineluctable rose of the cosmos appearing and perishing in this human form. You are what Danté beheld in the final canto, where vision itself dissolves into God.

No, you cannot possibly comprehend your own lethal explosion of sweetness. You must just surrender. Surrender is dying unto eternal life. This is power.

I will prove it to you by pointing to a wild forget-me-not in your back yard, if you leave the borders of your garden ragged and unharvested. Or perhaps I will show you the morning glory covered in dew drops, growing over the rusty spokes of an abandoned bicycle.