A tale about absolutely nothing
This is the leela. Leela means the Divine play, the illusion of our lives. This thing that we ascribe all meaning to, life as we know it, along with the life story, identity and who we assume ourselves to be. This is leela. Leela is illusion or maya. In other words our lives are just like the many movies we see, or books we read, or plays we watch. A fucking show, some entertainment for awareness. If only we could wake up to this illusion and recognize that this thing called life is no more real than any story or movie.
We as awareness are the greatest producers, scriptwriters, casting, design and directors ever. As we think it, so our story line is set. As we speak it, so we create the show. As we live as it, so is our perceived reality. We just seem to forget that who we really are, is not the story, neither the cast, nor the roles that are played out. Who we really are, sits in the audience that watches the show, seated safely in the lap of omniscience, keeping in the excellent company of the Divine. We are the awareness that is untouched by all that transpires on the cinematic screen of our mind’s projection. From here we have phenomenal seats! Front row. But never believe a thing. It is all nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Not real. Never was. Watch every thing. Feel each nuance. Let every emotion pass through. But don’t believe a single thing.
My leela has been rocking for a while now. It’s like my scriptwriter got seriously delirious and decided to change the whole show from a romantic comedy to a terrifying tragic tear jerker. I never know what turn events will take each morning and I, hooked into the next episode, remain spellbound and gob smacked. This leela is a show stopper: divorce, illness, accidents, drama, love and family saga are some of the scenarios. Sometimes I am so entwined in the story I forget it isn’t real. When my second car in a year was written off and my neck and back ached for weeks, I was so convinced. And when my child landed up in hospital with an undiagnosable cyst in his mouth for a week where I slept with him, while my other son was celebrating his barmitzvah I had planned for a year and loads of guests were pouring into town as my twenty year marriage was falling apart, I was seriously playing my role with conviction. Never mind the cancer episodes in my loved ones, seemingly replays there are so many. Or my parents enforced immigration due to illness. And so on and so on and so on …
Every once in a while, I’d remember, sit back. Breath deeply. Stop. Stay still. And remember that it is all not real. Nothing really.
It is all a tale about nothing. Not a thought is true or real. Not a character is anything but a role played, so convincingly that even the artist playing it believes herself to be the role. Nothing that passes is real. Papaji reminds, that which comes and that which goes, is not real. Our body, gender, identity, family, material things, even and especially our thoughts, they come. They go. It is all nothing. Nothing.
Zoom out. That which stays, only that is real. The awareness that watches. Be the audience. Sit in the lap of God and enjoy the show. Don’t believe it. Just be it. Be the Infinite Nothing. And awake to everything. To the only thing that is real, and that is everything.
Sat Nam and nothing,
P.S: Nothing! Mooji’s clip woke me up. Literally. Inspired my yoga class and kicked the shit off the plate. What a delightful mantra. Om namah shinothing! Nothing!