Which part of ourselves
,
is not a part but the whole?
Surely, even a grain of an olive, is a whole by itself,
All life is in it, infinite potentiality beyond any measure,
Yet, it is seen as,
Part of the fruit, which was part of a salad, which was part of a meal etc.
Which part of ourselves,
is as whole, as infinite in potentiality, as an orphaned olive seed?
Is it anything made of thought? Any idea, identity, imaginative expression?
Surely not,
By definition, any product of thought is partial and incomplete, as thought itself is.
Is it the very thinking, as a flow of imaginative movement without end?
Surely not,
As all thinking does, stays in the field of the mind, never touching anything beyond thinking.
Is it, then, something that words can’t touch, and mind can’t grasp, yet it is always and forever the very essence of life itself, pure existence?
How would you find out?
By thinking about it?
Reading about it?
Activating imagination to try to perceive the truth of it?
Surely not,
Imagination is the imagined.
I think, (yes, my intuitive guess, nothing more), that the only act in the direction of finding out, is forgetting.
Not erasing memory, but allowing forgetfulness to flower in is.
Forgetfulness of all descriptions, which comes to be when our heart is fully awake and attentive in dwelling into its field of interest,
And when that field is “forgotten”, due to the seeing of the stupidity of knowledge, and the insufficient nature of mind’s understanding,
Then, maybe, one can “remember”, that which can’t be forgotten, for it was never “remembered”.
Is it important for you to find out?
Will you give your heart and mind and life to find out?
One is a reflection of oneself, at any time, condition, space.
a.