The Great Suchness

The great suchness does what it wants, whenever it wants. There is no stopping its creative abundance. A flower opens its petals, a sunset shimmers as it disappears behind the horizon, and a baby is born somewhere in a hospital.

Conversely, a flower wilts and dies, the sun is hidden behind a nuclear cloud, and a man is stabbed to death down a dark alley.

The great suchness has its paint brush in everything from the smallest subatomic particle to a vast swirling galaxy, and every conceivable thing in-between.

So great and vast is its colour pallet, it paints a complex arrangement of sensory organs, so that it can experience its own creativity inside time and space.

The intellect cannot fathom its brush strokes, and the separate self cannot reconcile with its sheer abundance. It is far too overwhelming.

In all of this wondrous mystery, where do you come from, and where will you go?

In rousing doubt about past and future, a great opening will swallow you. At the absence of yourself, you'll see the grand tapestry painting itself in large, broad strokes, playfully and innocently making a jolly good mess and loving every moment.