“Those who greatly realize delusion are buddhas.
Those who are greatly deluded about realization
are ordinary beings.”
Since all expectations are based on delusion, so too is the expectation that one can arrive at some special state that is free of delusion. The one who would do so is, after all, a figment of delusion itself. Nevertheless, people will and have spent whole lifetimes in such pursuit. The wisest among them at least have found some humor and enjoyment while waiting for Godot, and hence I offer this rhapsody on the perfect enjoyment of delusion.
Like a perpetually changing kaleidoscopic hologram, the vast grand totality of universal manifestation marvelously appears and disappears in a synchronized perfection, and yet is bereft of any fixed self-nature that can be attributed, intuited, or apprehended by mind, emotion, perception, or super-conscious discovery. What could be more delightful?
Because it is dream-like in its arising, enduring, and vanishing, it cannot be said to have any concrete, substantial reality. Hence it is a paradoxical mystery that courses beyond the comprehension of any intelligence that is subsequently formed by the coincidence of swooshing cerebral fluids, sparking neurons, and ripening causes and conditions to approximate some imaginary phenomenal center that would serve as a subject juxtaposed against all of the whirling objects dancing without purpose in the void.
Never can it be said that it is mine, that it is my self, that it is what I am, because what I am is the basic aware space in and as which everything seems to appear and disappear, though in reality nothing happens, begins, or ceases. This can be easily verified by refraining from identifying with any appearance, perception, feeling, memory, sensation, or mental fabrication, until nothing can be realized or forgotten, and “what is” reveals itself, as it is — pure delusion.
Because it is pure by nature, delusion itself is spontaneously self-illuminating. Whatever the experience — happy or sad, vivid or dull — it is the precise form of our own awareness, exactly as it is being experienced, and thus it is perfect, just as it is, in the very form that it is. It is only our resistance to “what is” that creates the desperation of spiritual or material paths, schemes, and methods, which in turn only prolong the chronic neurosis of unhappiness.
Why should the simplicity of this omnipresent perfection come as a surprise, unless we have been dreaming? Nevertheless, when the dream is recognized as a dream, what else need be done? Dream on, or open your eyes and stop dreaming — our playground is a spacious, brilliantly luminous mirage. Don’t hold back — plunge in! Every molecule holds within it a potent joy, just waiting to be appreciated.
Consider this: radiant light or murky darkness make no difference to the transparent sky of a vast and empty hologram. There is no higher or lower, better or worse. Neither praise nor blame apply, nor does the human persona’s judgment of right and wrong, good or bad. All delusion is equal in value, having no inherent value itself.
When seeing has no seer, hearing no hearer, and perceiving no perceiver, then awareness cannot be saddled with any identity, history, karma, personality, or even any fixed locality. Where is the sky? Who is the sky? When was the sky?
Because nothing under the sky stays the same, the nature of all phenomena can be regarded as “impermanent”. Because there is nothing that can actually be grasped and designated “the sky”, the infinite space in which all appears, thrives for a while, and vanishes is itself no different than any other prop in a fictitious story told by nobody.
What can then be said? The sky is silent. Awareness is silent. “Vast emptiness” is only a provisional term intended to stop the tears of child-like dream characters. In reality, there is no such thing. There could never be.
There is no vastness, no emptiness, no word. All of that is exquisite delusion. Even “exquisite” can be discarded, for if there is nothing, to what can it be compared? Unperceivable and inconceivable — that is what we are.
Silence is the Mother Principle, except that silence is not the absence of any sound. That sort of silence is only a relative condition, dependent on conditional factors, but true silence is not a state or result of any combination of causes, nor can it be an object to itself.
Whatever can be devised by the marvelous functioning of the divine creative intelligence does not apply to that prior silence which is elsewhere called (by the deluded) the Absolute, the Supreme, the fundamental Basis.
Out of this no-thing, the whole grand totality of universal manifestation flashes noisily into being, expands to fill the entire cosmos with its cacophony, and simultaneously dissolves, without the slightest glitch or hesitation, and without the most minute particle of a substantial self, except what can be superimposed on a non-event by the functioning of pure delusion.
Therefore, delusion is the source of all identification, all mental formations, all emotional reactivity, all mirror poses and self-images, and any apparent perception of duality or non-duality. Truly, there is no way around delusion, for to seek such a way is the play of delusion itself.
Moreover, does the word “delusion” even mean anything if there is nothing that is not delusion? If there is something that is not delusion, what then would it be? Furthermore, if there is something other than delusion, who or what cognizes it? Can a delusion cognize reality?
When the mind moves, delusion is its function. Nothing that can be conceived, seen, known, or imagined is real. To make or cherish any story about it is delusional, and so these very words are the clothing of delusion too. The ultimate expression of delusion is the claim, “I am this, I am that”.
Consequently, delusion constitutes the essential functioning of the grand perfection, the universal drama of limitless consciousness, without which there would be nothing — the same state in which we now exist — except for our playful dream creations which we name the self, the world, the everything.
Glory to That!
“At no time throughout the beginningless succession of lifetimes has there ever been an actual birth. There has only been the appearance of birth. There has never been actual death, only the transformation of appearances like the shift from the dream state to the waking state . . . throughout the beginningless succession of lifetimes there has never been any actual experience of transition or going from one state to another, or any actual experience of being located in some other place. This is analogous to the images in a dream.”