A Master’s Game

Would we recognize a true master if we met one ?
Could you admit, with me, that one has to have played this game,
thought about oneself as a master, to perceive that playing such a game is being a victim of a psychological weakness ?

Only the one unable to recognize this remains a victim of their weakness.
A breach in which all matters of spirituality get swallowed.
The one who’s playing masters is filled with oneself,
while they pretend being empty in front of others.

To understand the game has begun, you simply need to see the heaviness (from all engulfed elements) aggregated in their gestures and speeches.
The lack of lightness in our practices often takes the shape of a fake lightness, poorly copied by the one who has been unable to integrate it.

If, in spite of all the pretending layers, frauds and usurpation, communities get together, grow, rub against each other and finally dismantle to re-shape elsewhere,
It is because, to the game of the master,
answers the game of the disciple.

It is a dance of suffering…A loneliness pas-de-deux, where all participants believe appearances are enough.
It is never a question of the Spirit.
To practices of identification, to the solidifying of projections and their appropriations,
follows the defense of such elements, their maintenance
Again, and again to postpone the unavoidable fall.

Do not be fooled by the coating of spirituality.
Do not be quick to contempt.
See the despair behind dancers’ choreography
Hear the sadness in their endless tune.

If the master, or the disciple, receives the grace of a spiritual opening,
they’ll come back to their essence and let go of the costume,
To finally sit, barely sit.

Whatever game they had been playing up to then,
They will hatch out, rip apart the membrane of the world.
They will become the master.
They will not care the least of whatever all of this may mean.
Beyond all systems, emptied of all teachings.



©FJ Jan 2022
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