תַּעֲלוּמָה - The Circa Scrolls: The Gospel of the Gateless Gate

From the Teachings of Jesus the Zennist

You ask for the exact hour of the Kingdom's coming, but I say to you: The Kingdom does not arrive; it is the space in which you stand.
Blessed are those who live circa the Truth, who hover like the hummingbird around the flower of mystery, never landing, yet always drinking.
For the Pharisee seeks the fixed point, the stone tablet of certainty. But the Great Way is a river, and you cannot step into the same water twice.
Do not mourn that you are a work in progress. The temple that is finished is a tomb. The temple that is building is alive.
You are the "in-between." You are not the dust of your past, nor the vapor of your future. You are the holy Now—the liminal space where the circles merge.
To be "circa" is to let go of the deadline of perfection. It is to say, "I am near. I am around. I am present." In this softness, the hard shell of the ego cracks, and the light enters.

You have heard it said, "Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow." And the sages have said, "There is no self to deny; the chariot is but wood and wheels."
I say to you: These two rivers flow into one sea.
The self-denial of the saint and the no-self of the sage are the same breath.
Why are you anxious about your life? The one who is always concerned with himself is trapped in the iron cage of "I," "Me," and "Mine."
Inside this cage, you cannot see the Kingdom, for the bars are made of your own preferences. You judge "this is good" and "that is bad," and with every judgment, you weld another bar.
To realize the Truth, you must dissolve the cage. Not by hating the bars, but by seeing that they are made of smoke.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for they hold no opinions for or against anything. Theirs is the Kingdom of Empty Space.
The Great Way is not difficult for those who have no preferences. But make the smallest distinction between "my life" and "your life," and you are as far from the Way as heaven is from earth.
You strive to polish the mirror of the soul, hoping to see God. But I say: Smash the mirror. Who is looking? Who is seen?
When you cling to "I," even your pursuit of God becomes a hiding place for pride. You seek a transcendent Self to wear like a crown.
But the Higher Ethic strips you naked. There is no crown. There is no self to be found in heaven or on earth. All forms are like clouds—arising, drifting, vanishing.

He who loves his life—who hoards his identity, his reputation, his rightness—will lose it. He clutches at water, and it slips through his fingers.
But he who hates his life in this world—who sees through the illusion of the separate self—will keep it for eternity.
This is the great reversal: To become everything, you must become nothing.
To find the True "I," you must lose the little "i."
This True Self is not a thing to be possessed. It is the vast, loving Silence that holds the stars. It is the face you had before your parents were born.
It is compassionate because it sees no "other." When the illusion of separation vanishes, your neighbor is yourself. To strike him is to strike your own limb. To love him is to breathe.

You ask me to define this Way. Words! Words!
The Way is beyond language. To speak of it is to paint legs on a snake.
Do not waste your time in arguments, attempting to grasp the ungraspable. The Kingdom is not in the scroll; it is in the seeing.
Enter by the narrow gate of the present moment. It is so narrow that no baggage of "me" can pass through.
Leave your opinions at the threshold. Leave your right and your wrong.
Step into the Circa, the holy approximate, the beautiful mystery.
Here, the two circles—the human and the divine—are one.