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Abstract

id="beba">When the mystic says “Let Go” (and they all do, whether Buddhist, Hindu, Catholic, Lone Saint, et cetera) he or she always means “of the Self.” Of the precious Ego.On paper this all seems straightforward enough, simple enough, but when it comes to practice, to actually doing it, experientially, well, that’s a cliff we just don’t want to jump off of, no matter how theoretically inviting the waters below.No, there is no antidote. No sort of half-life Methadone to ease us off the Heroin of Life. Letting go of life is a very cold-turkey act. It’s either done or not done. A life partially let go of is still clung to, desperately, sometimes more so than if the subject had never been brought up. It’s not going anywhere.And yet. And yet. Those who have managed, those of have cut the ties to Samsara and simply evaporated as it were (if our holy books are to be trusted, and I believe most can be) are the freest, most relieved life in the universe.So why don’t we believe them, Buddha Gotama, or Lao Tze, or the many saints roaming the Upanishads? Why don’t we believe them to the point of actually, actually letting go?It all looks so simple on paper.I am still working on the practical angle as we speak.P.S. If you like what you’ve read here and would like to contribute to the creative motion, as it were, you can do so via PayPal: <a href="http://paypal.me/UlfWolf">here</a>.<div id="6d5e" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/table-of-contents-c2259f050afa"> <div>

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            <div><h3>A Sequential Index of Wolfku Musings</h3></div>
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Letting Go

Life is an Addiction

One fundamental problem is that Life is addicted to Living

Let go.

Two words. Two syllables. And so incredibly much easier said than done.

The Buddha Gotama puts this down first to craving and then to its intensified sibling clinging. Craving and clinging to what?

The answer: pleasant feelings.

And, he hastens to add, that sense of a Self that experiences the pleasant feelings. This Self, a continuous and elaborate construct, always in flux and always unpinpointable (really), seems the most valuable possession ever. Anything to not lose that.

And so, when Death comes a-knocking, “Okay, folks, drink up, closing time,” we will do anything, promise anything, pay anything, to have one more round, one more go, one more life, please, please, please.

Really, there should be a Lifeoholics Anonymous, a proper twelve-step program for all us life addicts.

The Buddha Gotama did his very best to wean us off the thing, but judging by the Earth’s population life still seems like a very popular indulgence.

Of course, we all confuse Ego with Life. Life doesn’t die, never dies, cannot die, whereas the Ego is probably the dyingest thing there is — though if there is something we refuse to accept, that would be it.

When the mystic says “Let Go” (and they all do, whether Buddhist, Hindu, Catholic, Lone Saint, et cetera) he or she always means “of the Self.” Of the precious Ego.

On paper this all seems straightforward enough, simple enough, but when it comes to practice, to actually doing it, experientially, well, that’s a cliff we just don’t want to jump off of, no matter how theoretically inviting the waters below.

No, there is no antidote. No sort of half-life Methadone to ease us off the Heroin of Life. Letting go of life is a very cold-turkey act. It’s either done or not done. A life partially let go of is still clung to, desperately, sometimes more so than if the subject had never been brought up. It’s not going anywhere.

And yet. And yet. Those who have managed, those of have cut the ties to Samsara and simply evaporated as it were (if our holy books are to be trusted, and I believe most can be) are the freest, most relieved life in the universe.

So why don’t we believe them, Buddha Gotama, or Lao Tze, or the many saints roaming the Upanishads? Why don’t we believe them to the point of actually, actually letting go?

It all looks so simple on paper.

I am still working on the practical angle as we speak.

P.S. If you like what you’ve read here and would like to contribute to the creative motion, as it were, you can do so via PayPal: here.

A Sequential Index of Wolfku Musings

medium.com

Wolfstuff

So, who am I? Really really. I could tell you that I was born in northern Sweden during a snow storm, and subsequently…

wolfstuff.com