In the beginning…there was a facilitator…who wanted to get it right, wanted to help. Fairly soon, the facilitator disappeared, along with any sense of personal agency, any intention of getting it right or wrong, and most surprisingly, the audacity of “wanting to help.”

Then there was the experience of no facilitator or facilitated, only a spirit of willingness engendered. But still, there seemed to be “results.” Eventually, results also fell by the wayside, were rendered absurd. To paraphrase an old Chinese parable, “Results; no results, who’s to say?”

Then there was the experience of “God dressed in drag,” with every new face that showed up on the Skype screen. There was no longer the one who had-it-then-lost-it, or the one who is working through the core story, and so on. There was only the One Thing, showing up in various costumes. Distinctions fell away “out there.”

Now (only always now), there is no one left, “out there” to talk to. The one who used to think she was a facilitator is talking to no one but OneSelf, like a hologram, but not quite. Just talking happening; listening, too. Faces blur; awareness shines through. Appearances come and go.

The inquiries dissolve appearances. Not to belabor the obvious (is it?), but unfindable means there’s nothing here, nothing there. Nothing. But the movie projector keeps on rolling, much to the spectator’s delight.

A whole lotta nothing going on.

“God looked upon everything he had made, and he was very pleased.”

Look, now, and be very pleased. Rest as the looker and the looked upon.

 

3 thoughts on “Diary of a So-Called Facilitator

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