M: Surely, you can see for yourself that nothing is permanent. All
wears out, breaks down, dissolves. The very ground on which you build
gives way. What can you build that will outlast all?
Q:
Intellectually, verbally, I am aware that all is transient. Yet, somehow
my heart wants permanency. I want to create something that lasts.
M:
Then you must build it of something lasting. What have you that is
lasting? Neither your body nor mind will last. You must look elsewhere.
Q: I long for permanency, but I find it nowhere.
M: Are you, yourself, not permanent?
Q: I was born, I shall die.
M:
Can you truly say you were not before you were born and can you
possibly say when dead: ‘Now I am no more’? You cannot say from your own
experience that you are not. You can only say ‘I am’. Others too cannot
tell you ‘you are not’.
Q: There is no ‘I am’ in sleep.
M:
Before you make such sweeping statements, examine carefully your waking
state. You will soon discover that it is full of gaps, when the min
blanks out. Notice how little you remember even when fully awake. You
just don’t remember. A gap in memory is not necessarily a gap in
consciousness.
Q: Can I make myself remember my state of deep sleep?
M:
Of course! By eliminating the intervals of inadvertence during your
waking hours you will gradually eliminate the long interval of
absent-mindedness, which you call sleep. You will be aware that you are
asleep.
Q: Yet, the problem of permanency, of continuity of being, is not solved.
M:
Permanency is a mere idea, born of the action of time. Time again
depends of memory. By permanency you mean unfailing memory through
endless time. You want to eternalise the mind, which is not possible.
Q: Then what is eternal?
M: That which does not change with time. You cannot eternalise a transient thing -- only the changeless is eternal.
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