Author: anonymous

Resting here as this, what difference does it make? As I sit here, there is awareness of profound stillness within this unknowable source of being. When thoughts arise characterizing the experience or recalling some interpretation that has seemed real to me, one of three things seems to happen. The thoughts may pass through unimpeded, just noticed and leaving no trace, like a bird through the sky. They may be recognized as thoughts and then they unravel within the vast, open sphere of conscious awareness, like a snake untying a knot in itself as it moves naturally on its way. Thirdly, thoughts may become engaged with, imbued with reality, meaning and significance.

For me this has been like boarding a train as it is pulling out of the station. Once I have climbed aboard the train of thought, I am on ’til at least the next station. More often I have gone to the end of the line before I remember that I am not a separate character in the apparent drama, I am the awareness in which the whole movie is taking place. Each such fresh remembering brings fresh peace as the chemicals of my identified state subside and I gaze into and out of the vast, mysterious emptiness which is our intrinsic awareness.

Resting here as this, there is no agenda or expectation. There is peace and a sense of well being. There is a stillness at the core of everything; this cognizant space of being pervades everything; this is the source and substance of all that appears. I thank God that this is what we all really are. Only goodness and mercy, warmth, kindness and wisdom can come from consciously abiding here.

And that is what I find. When I am with another and resting here as this, there is delight discovering a warm human connection. I find that being loves quickening the heart and mind of the one appearing over there. I find myself spontaneously saying and doing things with others that we both enjoy and feel good about.

As we awaken and get used to resting here as this, there are many things that we have misunderstood, that get rearranged and reversed in our new way of being. As we begin afresh in any moment, we start to notice that we are always here and it is always now. And so, as our attention is increasingly opened into here and now, we spend less and less of our time in projecting our ideas from the past onto present and the future.

Rather than it appearing that we move through time and space, it is recognized that time and space appear to move through this awareness of now. Wherever you are as you read this, in your own experience, you are here and it is now. In any moment of your life, if you simply look for yourself, you will notice, “I am here; it is now.” If you look for yourself as you are walking or driving, you can readily notice that what you are is actually still, right here, right now. As you notice what you are actually experiencing, the scenery is moving through your field of vision, space is passing through the awareness you are. If you are walking, in the lower periphery of your vision, you can notice the ground and your arms and legs moving. But you, yourself are still, the present, open space of awareness. When you look past the furthest stars and behold infinite space, that experience of end less space occurs within the inclusive space of awareness.

We can never leave here and now, except in an abstract imagination. When we are caught-up in our story, we have lost touch with our actual being now. We have focused all our attention into our mind’s interpretation. This happens when we react to avoid a sensation or to avoid the sensation of our estimation of a sensation’s meaning.

Look for your self. Is there not awareness of whatever you think is going on in this moment? There is an inclusive presence of awareness which is aware of your sense of your self, your sense of everything you place your attention upon, your labels, your associations of significance and thoughts and evaluations, isn’t there?

If you are aware of your sense of you, if you are aware of your story of you, which one are you? Can you possibly be a character in a story appearing in your awareness?

What is this, really? Awareness is here. Awareness includes every aspect of our lives. Every moment, every place, every other that we experience happens within the actual now of awareness. But what is this that is aware? Whenever we care to look we find nothing whatsoever and we know that nothing is found. Awareness is simply space with a capacity to know. And this nothing which includes everything that appears within it is what we most fundamentally are.

Resting here as this reveals the mystery of life, of ourselves and of one another. Resting here as this is peace beyond understanding. Resting here as this is our inevitable destiny.

Copyright 2002
John Lumiere-Wins
Author of The Awakening West
E-mail: awakenow@pacbell.net

My name is Usman Farman and I graduated from Bentley with a Finance degree last May. I am 21 years old, turning 22 in October; I am Pakistani, and I am Muslim. Until September 10th 2001, I used to work at the World Trade Center in building #7. I had friends and acquaintances who worked in tower #1 right across from me. Some made it out, and some are still unaccounted for. I survived this horrible event.

I’d like to share with you what I went through that awful day, with the hopes that we can all stay strong together; through this tragedy of yet untold proportions. As I found out, regardless of who we are, and where we come from, we only have each other.

I commute into the city every morning on the train from New Jersey. Rather, I used to. I still can’t believe what is happening. That morning I woke up and crawled out of bed. I was thinking about flaking out on the train and catching the late one, I remember telling myself that I just had to get to work on time. I ended up catching the 7:48 train, which put me in Hoboken at 8:20 am. When I got there I thought about getting something to eat, I decided against it and took the PATH train to the World Trade Center. I arrived at the World Trade at 8:40 in the morning. I walked into the lobby of building 7 at 8:45, that’s when the first plane hit.

Ha d I taken the late train, or gotten a bite to eat, I would have been 5 minutes late and walking over the crosswalk. Had that happened, I would have been caught under a rain of fire and debris, I wouldn’t be here talking to you. I’d be dead.

I was in the lobby, and I heard the first explosion; it didn’t register. They were doing construction outside and I thought some scaffolding had fallen. I took the elevators up to my office on the 27th floor. When I walked in, the whole place was empty. There were no alarms, no sprinklers, nothing. Our offices are, or rather, were on the south side of building seven. We were close enough to the North and South Towers, that I could literally throw a stone from my window and hit the North tower with it.

My phone rang and I spoke with my mother and told her that I was leaving, at that moment I saw an explosion rip out of the second building. I called my friend in Boston, waking her up and told her to tell everyone I’m okay, and that I was leaving. I looked down one last time and saw the square and fountain that I eat lunch in, was covered in smoldering debris. Apparently, I was one of the last to leave my building, when I was on the way up in the elevators; my co-workers from the office were in the stairwells coming down. When I evacuated, there was no panic. People were calm and helping each other; a pregnant woman was being carried down the stairwell.

Ill spare the more gruesome details of what I saw, those are things that no one should ever have to see, and beyond human decency to describe. Those are things which will haunt me for the rest of my life, my heart goes out to everyone who lost their lives that day, and those who survived with the painful reminders of what once was. Acquaintances of mine who made it out of the towers, only got out because 1000 people formed a human chain to find their way out of the smoke. Everyone was a hero that day.

We were evacuated to the north side of building 7. Still only 1 block from the towers. The security people told us to go north and not to look back. 5 city blocks later I stopped and turned around to watch. With a thousand people staring, we saw in shock as the first tower collapsed. No one could believe it was happening, it is still all too-surreal to imagine. The next thing I remember is that a dark cloud of glass and debris about 50 stories high came tumbling towards us. I turned around and ran as fast as possible. I didn’t realize until yesterday that the reason I’m still feeling so sore was that I fell down trying to get away. What happened next is why I came here to give this speech.

I was on my back, facing this massive cloud that was approaching, it must have been 600 feet off, everything was already dark. I normally wear a pendant around my neck, inscribed with an Arabic prayer for safety; similar to the cross. A Hasidic Jewish man came up to me and held the pendant in his hand, and looked at it. He read the Arabic out loud for a second. What he said next, I will never forget. With a deep Brooklyn accent he said brother, if you don’t mind, there is a cloud of glass coming at us, grab my hand, lets get the hell out of here. He helped me stand up, and we ran for what seemed like forever without looking back. He was the last person I would ever have thought, who would help me. If it weren’t for him, I probably would have been engulfed in shattered glass and debris.

I finally stopped about 20 blocks away, and looked in horror as tower #2 came crashing down. Fear came over me as I realized that some people were evacuated to the streets below the towers. Like I said before, no one could have thought those buildings could collapse. We turned around and in shock and disbelief and began the trek to midtown. It took me 3 hours to get to my sisters office at 3 avenue and 47th street. Some streets were completely deserted, completely quiet, no cars, no nothing just the distant wail of sirens. I managed to call home and say I was okay, and get in touch with co-workers and friends whom I feared were lost.

We managed to get a ride to New Jersey. Looking back as I crossed the George Washington Bridge, I could not see the towers. It had really happened.

As the world continues to reel from this tragedy, people in the streets are lashing out. Not far from my home, a Pakistani woman was run over on purpose as she was crossing the parking lot to put groceries in her car. Her only fault? That she had her head covered and was wearing the traditional clothing of my homeland. I am afraid for my families well being within our community. My older sister is too scared to take the subway into work now. My 8-year-old sister’s school is under lockdown and armed watch by police.

Violence only begets violence, and by lashing out at each other in fear and hatred, we will become no better than the faceless cowards who committed this atrocity. If it weren’t for that man who helped me get up, I would most likely be in the hospital right now, if not dead. Help came from the least expected place, and goes only to show, that we are all in this together Ö regardless of race, religion, or ethnicity. Those are principles that this country was founded on.

Please take a moment to look at the people sitting around you. Friends or strangers, in a time of crisis, you would want the nearest person to help you if you needed it. My help came from a man who I would never have thought would normally even speak to me. Ask yourselves now how you can help those people in New York and Washington. You can donate blood, you can send clothing, food, and money. Funds have been setup in the New York area to help the families of fallen firefighters, policemen, and emergency personnel. The one thing that won’t help, is if we fight amongst ourselves, because it is then that we are doing exactly what they want us to do, and I know that nobody here wants to do that.

My name is Usman Farman and I graduated from Bentley with a Finance degree last May. I am 21 years old, turning 22 in October; I am Pakistani, and I am Muslim, and I too have been victimized by this awful tragedy. The next time you feel angry about this, and perhaps want to retaliate in your own way, please remember these words: “Brother, if you don’t mind, there is a cloud of glass coming at us, grab my hand, lets get the hell out of here.”

— Usman Farman