Running for many miles, I feel myself trudging forward; whether into a bitter ice laden winter wind or through the salty sweat and dusty roads and biting flies of summer. In these moments, after the freshness of my legs has worn off and dreams of racing glory have been left hours behind, I find myself in my simplest form. The ego's grandiosity and posturing are diminished. My body is showing signs of wear and tear from the long slow plod. I am just as I am. There are no dreams. There are periods of thoughtlessness.
It is in the time of thoughtless silence that I need to be awake. Not that some enlightened euphoria will descend, as the emotions of the event are ego possessions. Not that I will suddenly perceive the presence of Jesus or the aura of the forest, as the celestine world is also an ego treasure.
The thoughtless silence is an egoless state of slackened perception where peace is possible and a wordless existence is realized. Yes, this is God Himself. But God is not an ego feeding proposition and how my ego hates me for seeking the nothingness of peace. Having no rewards that can be put into an ego language, the Ineffable cannot be described.
I am invalidating the many stories of enlightenment I've read and sought on the premise that if the ego can conceive of it, then it is not true and doesn't exist. If the ego can conceive of it and desire more of it, then it is yet one more in a steady stream of ego delusions which trick us into thinking we are really here. Beautifully attractive to the point of addiction, the hunger for more is a sure sign the presumed enlightenment is an ego aggrandisement. The ego preens over it's victory over your spirit and becomes obsessed with topping the achievement.
The deep solid quiet of real peace is the only thing I can experience which is beyond ego and close to God.
And so I bundle up and head out into a bitter wind, hoping for nothing.