Regarding everchanginess and no-self, there is a good article by
Toni Packer:
www.shambhalasun.com/Archives/Features/2002/May02/packer.htm
What is This Me?
by Toni Packer
Are we interested in exploring
this amazing affair of myself from moment to moment?
A somber day, isn't it? Dark, cloudy, cool, moist
and windy. Amazing, this whole affair of the weather!
We call it weather, but what is it really? Wind.
Rain. Clouds slowly parting. Not the words spoken about it, but
just this
darkening, blowing, pounding and wetting, and then lightening up,
blue sky
appearing amid darkness, and sunshine sparkling on wet grasses and
leaves.
In a little while there'll be frost, snow and ice covers. And then
warming
again, melting, oozing water everywhere. On an early spring day the
dirt
road sparkles with streams of wet silver. So - what is weather
other than this
incessant change of earthly conditions and all the human thoughts,
feelings
and undertakings influenced by it? Like and dislike. Depression and
elation.
Creation and destruction. An ongoing, ever-changing stream of
happenings
abiding nowhere. No real entity weather exists anywhere except in
thinking
and talking about it.
Now, is there such an entity as me or I? Or is it
just like the weather - an ongoing, ever-changing stream of ideas,
images,
memories, projections, likes and dislikes, creation and
destruction, that
thought keeps calling I, me, Toni, and thereby solidifying what
is
evanescent? What am I really, truly, and what do I merely think and
believe
I am?
Are we interested in exploring this amazing affair
of myself from moment to moment? Is this, maybe, the essence of
this work?
Exploring ourselves attentively, beyond the peace and quiet that we
are
seeking and maybe finding occasionally? Coming upon an amazing
insight into
this deep sense of separation that we call me and other people, me
and the
world, without any need to condemn or overcome?
Most human beings take it for granted that I am me,
and that me is this body, this mind, this knowledge and sense of
myself that
feels so obviously distinct and separate from other people and from
the
nature around us. The language in which we talk to ourselves and to
each
other inevitably implies separate me's and you's all the time. All
of us
talk I-and-you talk. We think it, write it, read it, and dream it
with
rarely any pause. There is incessant reinforcement of the sense of
me,
separate from others. Isolated, insulated me. Not understood by
others. How
are we to come upon the truth if separateness is taken so much for
granted,
feels so commonsense?.....
(please go to the website for the whole article
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