The Formlessness Behind All Form

I’m sitting outside in the garden now looking around at all the “form” that surrounds me… plants, flowers, trees… cars, homes, bees… statues, stones, leaves…

After a relatively brief meditation session, I opened my eyes and began looking at my surroundings, simply observing without allowing the mind to hop in and insert its commentary and labels. Just looking and allowing all color, form, shape, and movement to flow into my eyes as one seamless flow of light.

Suddenly I realized what I was seeing and burst out laughing.

Underneath all form is a dance of formless energy. Nothing is solid, real, or permanent. What we call physical and tangible is simply a dance of impermanence.

The building blocks of all form is the formlessness of pure non-physical energy.

It’s like this…

Look at this picture. What do you see coming from the light? Smoke. A dance of wispy smoke. Frozen in time in this image, we could look at this smoke and say it has a distinct, definable form. It has a structure, shape, color, and size. In fact, we can keep looking at it and it doesn’t move. It must be permanent!

As we know, however, the shape of smoke is constantly subject to air currents and the flow of all of life itself. It’s constantly moving and evolving. Despite any appearances of form or structure, we know that smoke is truly formless. It has simply takes on the appearance of a particular form in every changing moment.

Every thing you see in life is just like this smoke. It is the appearance of form created by the formless.

Nothing is truly concrete or solid, despite outer appearances.

Look at a growing plant without mentalization and what you see is the dance of formlessness. It is a formless flow of energy temporarily taking the shape of a plant.

Everything in life is like smoke, just moving a little more slowly or more quickly. Some things are physically more dense so they move more slowly. The smoke from a flame is not very dense so it moves relatively quickly. A human body walks around somewhat more slowly. A stone cathedral, which is very dense, changes even more slowly.

Yet given enough time, they will all equally be reduced to dust.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

There is an inherent vulnerability in all form. When we see someone or something putting up a protective shield, be they the thorns of a plant, the anger of a person, or the walls around a castle, we recognize that these defenses are simply the result of “something” being fearful of its own dissolution and subsequently doing whatever it can to solidify its sense of permanence.

Yet what we often recognize as most beautiful in life is that which is vulnerable… the petals of a flower, the breeze over the ocean, the gracefulness of a ballerina, the body of a young woman, the fluidity of a symphony, a sleeping baby, the chirping of a bird, a siren’s song, curves.

Vulnerability is the true strength, for it is in alignment with the permanent impermanence. That which is vulnerable can never be destroyed. It can certainly change forms and evolve, expand and contract. It always will, and recognizing this fact, one may let go of trying to maintain their current state and allow their own light to shine forth from within.

This awareness comes from beyond the mind. The true strength of formless vulnerability can not be seen by trying to look for it. It’s the timelessness of all that is. It’s the gentle touch and the powerful crash. It is that which can not be named, for it is simply just something that is. It exists. You can talk about it, but you can not say what it is.

Its presence arises naturally as the mind goes quiet and stops noisily covering up that infinite vastness.

It is a peace, yet beyond the most infinite peace you can imagine. It is truly beyond all imagination, beyond your wildest dreams.

You can tap into it whenever you wish. It is always there, lovingly awaiting your conscious return.