When I first moved into the Zendo, I only had cushions to sit on the floor. I had a bed and a desk, but no other place to sit. After awhile, and the suggestion of those who did not find it comfortable sitting on the floor, more furniture arrived. Now the Zendo has couches, chairs, tables in addition to the cushions.
As the Zendo became more full of “normal” furniture, this inner house became ever more empty. The Zendo has furniture and the inner house has none. The furniture that fills our inner house are thoughts, concepts, beliefs and the primary thought that I am a limited, special being separate from all the rest of life.
As long as we have the concept of God, as long as we feel that we know what God is, there is no room for God to enter our inner house. God can only come as God. Unless our house is empty, all that can enter are our concepts and beliefs about God. This is not God. This is just concepts and beliefs.
For God to enter, the house must be completely empty. It must be swept clean so not even a speck of dust remains. Of course God is always here, but with all this mental stuff crowding every inch, how can we possibly see God? How can we see anything but thoughts, concepts and beliefs?
So empty your inner house. You don’t need a yard sale. Be honest, who would want this stuff anyway? All this accumulated knowledge, what is it really worth? Empty it out so you can see what is really here, what has always been here. Everything you have ever searched for has always been right here hidden beneath this mental accumulation. We have become like mental pack rats, accumulating thoughts, ideas, beliefs and knowledge wherever we can find them. It doesn’t matter if it’s spiritual concepts, beliefs and knowledge. It’s all in the way of what is always here, shining forth in its obviousness as soon as the clutter is cleared.
The five hundred pound gorilla that takes up most of the house is this sense of I, the personal identity, the vulnerable, limited sense of self that is the center of your universe. How can you see what is really here with this always cluttering up the landscape? Is this piece of mental furniture really so important? Would you really cease to exist if this were thrown out or just put away in the hall closet and taken out only for special occasions?
Life goes on without this mental furniture cluttering up the house. It’s really not necessary. When this is no longer the center of the universe, suddenly we can see the universe, as it really is. And it’s beautiful. It’s well worth seeing. And it gets on just fine without this separate identity. The universe doesn’t need a center, especially an illusionary one.
And when we no longer feel like the center of the universe, guess what? We ARE the universe. The whole thing. Everything in it. And a whole lot more. But we can’t realize this with a cluttered house. Start sweeping. It’s worth it.