Opening to The Intimacy of the Soul*

I come to write again after taking time to consider where my life is leading to. I admit, I am still confused about the direction I want to follow in life. I regret that the things that appeared to be of absolute importance to my happiness have become perhaps less important to me at this point in my life. This doesn’t mean that my disability activism, for example, is no longer important to me or that I don’t value the principles of inclusion I believed in before. Principles I dedicated lots of time and energy to promote. Rather, I feel that my calling is elsewhere.

I can understand if only a few readers might relate to my situation. It’s as if, more than ever, I feel a sense of emptiness. Of insignificance. It’s not because there’s emptiness within me. It’s because I realise that, as a human being, I am insignificant when compared to the extend of the cosmos. A cosmos that we can only barely understand with our scientific advances. A cosmos, that we may never be able to really understand.

In this state of silent contemplation, I only find myself confused and lost in an ocean that engulfs my whole being. An ocean which I want to escape from and be rescued from.

Yet, an ocean which I must cross to discover the place I need to be if I want to find more lasting peace and happiness. The refuge of the soul*. The cosmos that appears to mock my pretentious humanity is really drawing me to an authentic understanding of my real nothingness. Like the ocean, I am faced by my sense of nakedness and shame of having to declare my vulnerability and essential nothingness.

I was a child who wanted to know more. Indeed, I was thirsty for answers of why I was here. I admit that the death of my brother David a few months after my birth appears to have profoundly affected me. I realise this fact the more I develop my practice of meditation. It’s as if my need to make sense of my life - or why I am here - has become more important to me. More than anything else, I feel that I must face the challenge posed by an infinite ocean and the nakedness that the eternal cosmos reveals. For, in contrast to all this immensity, I am an impermanent nothing.


I once aspired to become a famous writer in my life. Indeed, this, I admit, was one of the motivations I had to write as a child. To perhaps join in the ranks of those many authors I found on the library shelves (I could reach). Yet, I wrote not just out of vanity but because, the more I wrote, the greater I felt free. There were moments when I wrote continuously, others when I stopped writing for days on end. It was both painful and cathartic to write. It was hard to have to put into words what I felt inside as what I wrote may have sounded brilliant but it never captured the complexity of my thoughts. And, even as I write

today, I am sure that what I finish will always be incomplete and dissatisfying. Hopefully, it is closer to the truth of my being but words and language are only mirrors of a far richer reality we may call the “soul”*. I am aware that while we may place a lot of weight on the words we use or the symbols we communicate, these don’t exist in their own right. A sentence, a book, or any form of expression, will mean another thing in another time or socio-cultural context. Yet, even if we may chose silence, it has also its meaning. However, at least, silence provides us with an opportunity to listen and contemplate on the significance of our human existence.

It may help us to free ourselves from the shackles of ignorance and open that little the intimacy within. 



I know that my life may be misinterpreted as a tragedy. Yes, it appears I lost a lot in the course of these 31 years I’ve been here on the planet. I lost my brother, David, before I could know him. I gradually lost my ability to walk independently, I lost a significant amount of vision and I am just slowly regaining my health and strength. Yet, my life isn’t exceptionally tragic to any degree. Defining me in those terms failsto acknowledge my humanity. I have only experienced more in life than usual, yes, but this doesn’t guarantee that my experience automatically brought with it any wisdom or exceptional insight.

 

A belief that is often implied whenever I talk to a few “religious” strangers. Indeed, I, myself, may have ben deluded by that demon of pride. A pride that seeks out to make one feel that one has the understanding and has the right outlook on life. A pride that refuses to listen and thus be unresponsive or hostile to other views. Views, which may be indeed wrong, but which must be taken notice of for hearts and minds to perhaps change and be more open.

These words would have been outrightly dismissed by my past self. But, these words are the ones I needed to hear.



I am a human being. I am disabled by a society that still considers people, like me, who have impairments, lives apart. We are not heroes, saints, villains, pitiful beings, abnormal, differently-abled or even “special”. Yet, I realise that while I recall all I believe in, I know there’s a deeper longing within that compels me to go beyond my work as a disability activist. For, while this cause is worthwhile and to be commended, I feel a strong need to go beyond impairment and focus more on the wider context of being human.

The fact is that since I grew in my understanding of Buddhism, thanks to the works of HH Dalai Lama and other scholars, I realise how important it is, for me, to reach beyond my self to others. Not because the experiences I have gone through life have made me any wiser. Not that I am special in any way. But because I feel that I must seek the source of my emptiness. To find refuge in knowing that all I have is impermanent and all will end, including my being. To approach this realisation, not with despair or despondency, but with mindful compassion and appreciation of every breath we take.

In doing so, we can wake up and release ourselves from the spell of pride.A point of awareness where we can see the afflictions borne out of hate, greed and desire melt into nothingness. A point where, even if we’re not totally free from our delusions, we are ready to open our heart to others and to all that is around us.
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I feel that unless I fully open my mind and heart to this greater need and purpose, there will always be that sadness in my heart. A dissatisfaction that, whatever I did in my future, all will be overshadowed by the knowing that I didn’t pursue my deepest yearning. That I put aside my call to compassion and to contemplate the purpose of my existence because I wanted to live a relatively comfortable life.



In doing that, I would have violated the intimacy of my soul*! 





* In the context of this article, the meaning of the word “soul” is not to be understood in terms of any religious interpretation. In this sense, the soul may be taken to simply mean conscious awareness in the present - in light of the fact that the “soul” or “self” is, in itself, not a static property of the mind and may indeed cannot be said to have a distinct location in the body but rather arises out of the interplay of the brain and the nervous system.

Burying the Self

I am.

Can I proceed and add more to that sentence without risking becoming someone that is really not who I am. Apart from that, aren’t the words “I am” already presenting a lot as these two words attempt to capture an idea that can only be poorly represented using language.

I have been engaging in deep meditation for some time. However, I have realised that, even when we think we can better relate to the world, the truth is that we must come to a point when we become aware of the empty nature of things. The statement “I am” attempts to describe what cannot adequately expressed using the conventional means of communication. There’s no single aspect of who we are that can define who we are.

While the person we call ‘self’ is real in a sense, in many ways this ‘self’ is just a product of the interactions that are happening in our minds and bodies.

Sadly, we are often too attached to the way we have come to see our selves than to reflect on who we actually are. We are separate and unique selves but, at the same time, who we are is intrinsically linked to the world around us. We are part of nature but we remain distinct, in some way, from nature. We can be with others as one but still retain our own identities.

Naturally, we tend to associate ourselves with a group of friends, be part of a community where we can share our beliefs. Find that we like a particular form of music or read books that seem to talk to us. Inasmuch as all this and more can help us in getting to know the world and who we are, they can never define who we are. Not even religion or science or even art can define who we are. It may define our ‘self’ in the world but they don’t tell us anything about who we are.

The unfortunate thing is that we tend to define who we are in these terms. We talk about who we are referring to our work, our religion, our position in the family and so on. But, if everything else was taken away from us. Or, else, we come to the point when we have to face our own death, how would we define who we are then? If we think of the story we built to define who we are, would we have a rope to keep us from drowning into desperation?

Of course, the self remains an important aspect of who we are as it helps us function in the world. Yet, there is more to us than this self. For, positive as it might be, this self is constantly changing. It is changing right now as I type this entry. Your self is changing as you read this entry. It is in this space where we pause from the writing of our life story that we can find who we are. In it’s in that split second when we have to decide what to do and what to think that we may hope to find ourselves.

It is difficult in today’s world to retreat to a place where we can be really silent and aware of what we are thinking. As I grow in my practice of meditation, I realise just how much ‘noise’ is going on in my mind during the day. But, now, I have come to realise that who I am goes beyond what I thought I was.

However, it remains hard to completely detach myself from the story I Have constructed to define who I am. Yet, while that doesn’t mean I want to annihilate the self that helps me function in society, it does mean that I am more aware of the fact that my life will change and my life will end. I cannot hope that someday I will be happy or, worse still, seek to bring back an ideal past.

Here, I must be ready to bury my old self and live again.

A Violent Awakening

Last Wednesday, I was admitted to the state hospital soon after I finished breakfast or about twenty minutes. Or so dad would tell me. Apparently, I threw up and lost consciousness. I would wake up again at the emergency department trying to figure out what had happened and where I was. It was as if I wasn't there when all this happened. Even if I was discharged on Saturday, I remain in excruciating pain in my legs and back. It appears that my back had fractures caused by osteoporosis witch I developed later on in my early 20s due to treatment for another condition.

However, the details aren't that important. I found myself in hospital once again. My life, once more, interrupted. An unknown future ahead. Not that there's certainty with any future. But when such a 'violent awakening' occurs, I tend to stop and reflect on where my life is heading and what'll come of me if this will take a long time to improve.was I living the life that truly fulfilled who I was?

And there were I fear that, despite the pain of my current state, I realise that I long for more from life than the path I've chosen so far.a lingering sense of dissatisfaction and emptiness accompany these hours of pain. As if there's an aspect of who I am that I've tried to avoid. A silent calling of the soul. Greater than me and, yet, not foreign. I struggle as I try to express this feeling for language is limited and this state of mind seems to reside beyond language to begin with.

Inasmuch as writing has always provided me with refuge and sustenance in hard times in my life, such as this, i lack the strength to carry on with this entry. When I feel better, hopefully, I'll be in a clearer state of mind to relate to what is at the core of my deep longing.

The Emptiness of Reality

Have you ever felt like you are going nowhere? A feeling that somewhat or somehow, you have to get to terms with a new reality. A reality that, you realise, is at odds with what you believed to be true. Yet, this feeling of emptiness has been growing over the course of the last few months. 

Admittedly, you may conclude that this emptiness is a negative thing. There is always the temptation to escape from such an emptiness or to avoid dealing with it altogether. But that would only be postponing the inevitable and setting oneself to a great fall. At least, this is what I think would happen if I ignored it. I’m not implying that the experience of finally awakening to reality isn’t unpleasant and, it can even be painful. A pain that emerges from the knowledge that you’re alone and nobody else will understand.

The truth of the matter is that even if anyone bothered to listen, they will never fully understand the extent of another human person’s experience. Our lives, yes, may be similar in many ways, but the way we interpret reality remains largely subjective and relative to our particular human contexts. This is not denying that there is no truth or that all actions are good and ethical. Far from it,What I am saying is that there is too much inconsistency between what we believe and what we practice. 

In this sense, we are living our own illusions. We belief we hold the only truth and while proclaiming our respect of other views, we persist in mocking any view that challenges our reality. Any view or person, for that matter, who goes against our convictions. We immerse ourselves into a pride that is ignorant of its own existence . A pride that projects itself as loving kindness but is, if you examine it, nothing but vain self-indulgence.

I am guilty of the same faults that I accuse others of having. I am not completely free from jealousy, envy or selfish desire. However, as I grow more aware of these afflictions, the more I recognise that emptiness which is this reality I live. For, no matter what I will gain from possessing the world, I will end. Again, this ‘end’ that I speak of doesn’t imply that life has no value or no meaning. 

Indeed, being aware of our emptiness compels us to rejoice in every moment of life. Yes, even when life is filled with pain or disappointment. Even when we feel misunderstood or isolated, there is an emptiness that reminds us to keep into perspective our reality. An emptiness that keeps our sense of self within its limits. For, whether we are have or have nots, whether we are rich or poor, and whether we are believers or non-believers, the fact is that we will one day die. 

I still find myself clinging to an identity. A need to be valued as an individual that is separate than the rest. This is not bad in itself. Yet, there is the danger that our desire to be valued and appreciated comes at the expense of the happiness of others. It’s then that what is indeed empty starts appearing to be real. That is at the root of the illusion of a reality based on the belief we are immortal.

Surrender to an Emptiness of Being

I find that I am at a point in my practice when I am faced with a deep sense of emptiness. I cannot describe what this feeling is like. I am sorry that I am lost for words.

The more I contemplate about life, the more I realise how empty my life really is. Not because it lacks joy, happiness or meaning. But, rather, it’s because I know that there’s a lot I don’t know and much of it I will never know in a lifetime.

I hesitate to write about the after-life, for in truth, I am not sure of that either. I am reluctant to speak of God because talking about God is dangerous for I’ve been witness to many who profess to believe in a god they created in their own image.

I am faced with an uncomfortable emptiness as I think of who I am. Or, more accurately, who I thought I was. I recognise that my life is insignificant compared to the immensity of the universe we inhabit. The universe that I believe exists but of that I am not sure either. And, then, there is a darkness which compels me to admit that I am lost. That I was always lost and my previous beliefs were, in many ways, delusions.

I am burdened by a sense of sadness. And sadness is not even the right word. It’s not a sadness borne out of despair or desperation but one which emerges from the awareness of my nothingness. My realisation of the futility of a life spent chasing personal gain at the expense of other beings.

I realise that what I write may not make any sense. I apologise for that. I don’t have the answers to life’s questions. The more I contemplate about life, the greater is the sense of unknowing. The greater I find that I will never know. But, perhaps, this is the lesson that I need to learn. That I have to admit that, inasmuch as I may accumulate knowledge, this is a time when I must be humble enough to acknowledge my true insignificance and helplessness in life.

I need to surrender and accept the reality of my humanity. This is not about giving up on life but it’s about accepting reality. It’s about recognising that I am like other human beings limited in how much I can know or understand. It’s a humility that is not ashamed of its own limitations. It’s not a defeat or even an escape from life - even if those can be potential risks.

I want to search for truth. I want to manifest my authentic being. But now, I only sense a deep sadness, perceive a boundless emptiness and a blinding darkness. I see no hope of release. No hope in belief or science. I am consumed by doubt and fear.

To this emptiness, I surrender.

Trivial Pursuit

We all seek to be happy and to find peace. Yet, many of us struggle to sustain a state of peace and happiness for much long. We are often taken up by factors present in the world around us. We often trust that our peace and happiness will come from the money we make, our social standing, the things we possess and our reputation (((to name just a few). We attempt to search for peace and happiness in external things which like a toy that, following our initial excitement and joy, joins the rest of the pile of old toys because we have outgrown it or have set our minds on something else.

The fact is that we cannot find any long lasting peace and happiness in external things. You must have heard this before but the way we live appears to suggest we don’t believe it. Instead, we believe that having more, achieving fame and fortune, acquiring goods and possessions, etc will bring about a life of peace and happiness. Sadly, I am not immune from this delusion myself. Many were the things I thought would improve my life and make me happy. Many were the things I believed would be solutions. But, when I think about it, these external objects were not the solutions to my problems. They only served to quench my desire for a short time, leaving behind them broken hopes and aspirations.

I believe that the main reason we fill our lives with what is external to us is because we feel empty inside. As a result, we fuel our desire for peace and happiness by wrongly attaching ourselves to objects we think we have power over or which we think we can control. But ironically, it is these objects through our attachment to them that end up conditioning our lives. They don’t control our lives but it is we who choose to let them rule over our lives. In this way, we give them an existence that they do not have in their own right. In believing that they can give us happiness or peace, we provide them with qualities they do not possess. Once we truly appreciate the implication of this realisation of the emptiness of things, the more we can understand how searching for happiness outside of ourselves is but a pointless and trivial pursuit.