The incomplete life is a constant search for the Temple. Externalised, that becomes a search for a system, a religion, a society, a book, a film, piece of music.

This incessant movement, the “search”, becomes an inner incompleteness and a subtle, low-level, incessant dissatisfaction. We finish one book, and we are in the search for another. We dive into a religious system, and we pursue a different system. All in search of a Temple that would nourish, that would complete, that would finally let us be. External hopes reside in thought, where the tyrannical ruler of memory and fantasy resides. We collaborate with him, selling to him our life, in return for a hope that never intakes the breath of life. This ruler whispers in your ear: strive, strive, strive a little more. Tomorrow (his most powerful trick) holds the key to initiation. Tomorrow holds the map to the Temple. The ruler swings us from the past to the future, from one hope to another, making us nauseous, so much so that we forgot who we are. Here is what the ruler was trying desperately to hide from you, because once you know it, he becomes a little fool.

The Temple has only ever been in the now. Right here and now, as your eye glances by these words. The space where we are nurtured, truth reveals itself, mysteries unveil… Where there is peace, fulfilling silence, quiet and shimmering brilliance, it is here and now. The search for the Temple is led by the ruler. The actual Temple doesn’t need to be searched for. The Temple holds no requirements to enter, no initiatic degree or level of awakening. As one suspends the search, one remembers it is here. The only requirement is to remember.

To remember: (re) + (member). Unite the temporal “me” with that which is always.

As we embody stillness, the glorious gates of the Temple open in a matter of an instant. Instantaneously. It is not a matter of “time”. We remember – and we enter. You can enter it … (relax, breathe, pause, lock your eyes in one place) … now.

Going deeper.

The word “entering”, though helpful, is imperfect.  It involves a separation between that which is outside and the space inside. Really, when we melt into presence, when we make ourselves vulnerable to it, we simply unite ourselves with that which is always there. How could it not be that way? This Temple –  where would it “go”? It has always been there. We tune into it, into the liquid of divine presence. The radio tunes into a frequency; it does not create it.

As we dissolve the difference between “us” and “the Temple”, we remember that everything is divine. The structure of your palm is divine. The sphere of your eye is divine. The air is divine. It is time, memory, and separation that makes everything mundane. So much so, we forgot we ourselves are totally divine. This page on the screen is divine. Living is totally divine.

And if we imagine a beam of presence going through our crown, then our spine, and to the bottom of our feet, united with that which is around, we feel how we immediately regain an inner dignity, which comes from remembering what we really are. Nothing and everything. A point in a grid of oceanic consciousness. There lies dignity. No more search. A coherent flow of presence. Presence which was waiting to be re+membered.

A Koan to submerge yourself deeper:

Is it you having this experience of remembering?

If “I” am conscious of this remembering, what is aware of that awareness?