The magic of void

When there is an identification with content of awareness, with stories and their objects such as this human self, then void is not something that looks particular attractive. I am something, an object in the world, and void means an absence of that. It means death.

And this is exactly what keeps the game playing, which is a good thing. It is how it is set up. The awake void takes itself as its own content, the forms it temporarily take, so the whole drama of I and Other is created and plays itself out. It is nothing if not entertaining.

But it also seems a little too real sometimes. A little too substantial, too much about life and death. So here, the urge to find a resolution to the drama comes up.

The resolution is simple. It is for the void to awaken to itself, to notice itself. And yet, that is exactly what “I”, if I take myself as content, fears the most and wants the least.

So then there is the drama of waking up. The struggle of awake void noticing itself through the clouds of beliefs in stories. The struggle with fear and resistance coming up in leaving identifications with stories and some of their objects behind. The drama between wanting to see what is already more true for us, and yet holding onto and retreating into familiar beliefs.

Yet, when it happens, when void notices itself, either out of the blue or following a good deal of practice, there is just ease. The void washes away any content, including identifications with stories. And when content comes back, it is noticed as nothing other than the awake void itself. The content of the awake void is the awake void itself. Said another way, the content of awareness – which is awake void – is awareness itself.

This is the magic of the void. It is absent of any content. So when it notices itself as void, and form comes back in, form itself is noticed as void. Specifically, it is noticed as absent of any separate self, any I with an Other, so there is also an absence of identification with stories and any other content of awareness.

It all arises on its own, in its own time, out of and as void itself. Always and already absent of an I with an Other. Even the sense of a separate self, and the drama that came out of it, was always and already absent of any separate self. Even that just happened, on its own, on its own time, as the play of awake void itself.

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