Thinking

We spend much of our time thinking about the past or the future, while missing a great deal of what is happening in the moment. When it grows out of proportion, this kind of thinking tends to overshadow the rest of life, so no wonder that life can feel fundamentally incomplete. Thinking also becomes a predominant factor in human interaction, in all relationship, which is probably a dangerous imbalance.

If we say that this imbalance is wrong, then it becomes another problem to solve, which brings more thinking. We might as well forget about the whole thing, rather than constantly checking to see whether life is becoming more balanced.

Perhaps this imbalance or the excessive focus on thinking has something to do with a deeper imbalance in our experience of ourselves. We rarely pay any attention to the sense of being conscious, awake, to the raw sense of “I am” – before trying to define what I am. The intimate sense of “I am” becomes reduced to thinking about ourselves in terms of memories, ideas, pleasant or unpleasant feelings. No wonder that this thinking has so much power. It’s like a rope taking on the appearance of a snake, because the underlying rope (“I am”) is not seen clearly in the shadow, which is thinking. Thinking  works through distinctions, so the distinction between “me” and “not me” also becomes a hugely significant thing, which may be called “the sense of separation”.

Back to basics

The common-sense description of life has no less validity than any “spiritual”, “nondual” or poetic description. “Nondual” pointers may serve their purpose for a time, but it is unfortunate when they are turned into a worldview that rejects common sense. Naturally, any description of life is bound to be inadequate, but there is a danger that one might “resonate” with a particular description simply because it sounds better than what we are used to.

Here are some basic points of the common-sense view:

• We are not (nor will we ever become) separate from our bodies, which are born, grow old and die.
• There is no possibility of being conscious or aware without a properly-functioning brain.
• Our experience provides us with useful information about something called “the world”, which is there prior to experience, consciousness, thought, etc.
• There is no reason to deny the existence of choice and of responsibility for various choices in life.
• Human life is relatively short, and once it’s over, it’s gone forever.

Spiritual search and the danger of personality cults

In the spiritual/religious domain, like in any other specialized domain of human activity, we often find ourselves looking to other people (their writings, etc.) for answers to our questions. The more impressed we are with the answers, the more likely we are to admire that person; and the more we admire the person, the more convincing their answers will seem to us. What is often at stake in this particular domain is not merely respect for someone’s knowledge, experience or personal qualities, but rather a sense of that person being our mentor, our confessor. Often, this individual would also be performing a very special sacerdotal or liturgical role, or might even be proclaimed a saint, a person transformed through divinization.

Would such an attitude be possible if we knew a bit more about the private lives of many of these people or the full range of their activities? In any case, if one is assuming that the full meaning of an answer to some basic question of one’s own life can be handed down by somebody else, then the basis for becoming a convert is already in place. The first casual encounter leads to curiosity, and in trying to satisfy this curiosity there is the trap of emotional dependence, especially when one is impressionable. If one is lucky, this dependence will be similar to being a fan of a rock band in its effects. Unfortunately, in many cases its risks end up being much greater.

Peace

(continued from the previous post)

These days, “peace” means something altogether different to me. It does not mean the absence of all psychological disturbance, or a deep, abiding silence of the mind, or a sense of perfect inner safety, although such states may well exist for some human beings. Rather, what I mean is a subtle sense of being at home in one’s life, even and especially when there are things to worry about. Worry can still countine, but can also be seen in its proper perspective. (NOT by telling oneself that there is nothing to worry about or something to that effect.)

The most important thing to say is that the basic foundation of peace is already present as the background of all experience, and has been present from the start. However, because it was overlooked for so long, and because our idea of peace is generally more dramatic than subtle, it can take some time for it to become apparent in daily life.

From this perspective, peace is not a matter of eliminating disturbance, but is rather a foundation from which disturbance can be met. After all, who or what is disturbed? Only the thought process is disturbed, brought to the point of alarm by what is happening or what is about to happen. Obviously, this is also accompanied by a bodily reaction: certain tension will appear, the heart might beat faster, etc. But when there is not this sense of there being somebody separate from the thought process, a permanent thinker/feeler who is disturbed by circumstances and by his own thoughts and emotions, then the disturbance will soon start to lose some of its momentum and become almost blended with the subtle background of peace that is the very taste of life.

The search

What are people seeking when they approach nonduality? I guess that for many it will be some state of peace, because we generally find it really difficult to cope with various disturbances in our lives. This was probably the case for me too, although I wasn’t aware of it at the time. However, I remember how as a teenager I came across a line of the Latin mass: “Dona nobis pacem”. This was one of the few lines that seemed to resonate. I associated it with sleep and with the romantic idea of world-weariness.

What I wanted was some teaching that would make sense to me; a teaching coming from a person, who seemed in touch with some deeper wisdom, with something sacred. Semi-consciously, I believed that if only I could find such a teaching, then my life would be enriched, and I would be more at peace with life by looking at it from a vantage point of transcendent wisdom.

In the end, none of even the most extraordinary teachings felt entirely satisfying. What became clear from those teachings, however, is that the contradiction between a strongly desired spiritual or religious goal and the current state does not bring peace. This is not to say that traditional notions of liberation, niravana, or “citta vrtti nirodha” have no significance. Simply, the intensity of many years of fascination with these notions gradually began to dissipate.

Life and experience

Experience is part of the process of life. Experience is made possible by the functioning of the living cells of the nervous system. Thus, every experience of whatever is seen, felt or thought is simultaneously an experience of being alive. This is not merely a conceptual conclusion, but something that can be directly recognized without any explanation. The flow of experience is permeated, as it were, by a subtle living quality, which becomes more apparent when there is less focus on the specific patterns of experience.

Perhaps related to this is the sense of “I am”, the intimate and familiar presence that has always been associated with the word “I”. This too may be an indication of sentience, of being alive. This is something that is common to all streams of human experience at any given moment. Noticing it is no big deal. However, what can happen suddenly or over time is that this sense of “I am” seems to move a bit more to the foreground, as it were, with the surprising result that all experience seems to have this very subtle quality of “I am” to it. This is again not something spectacular and can easily go unnoticed. Yet, it is probably this subtle shift that gradually reduces the felt sense of separation from experience, as well as within experience. An indication of this is that there will no longer be the same mental drive to hold on to particular pleasant experience, or to avoid or push away unpleasant experience at any cost.

If that’s the meaning of “I”, then do I really exist?

What are some of the unquestioned assumptions associated with the concept of “myself”? One implicit assumption that might be fairly common is that the first-person singular pronoun refers to something primary, something that can exist with or without thoughts, in a conscious or in an unconscious state, in the body and perhaps even out of the body. In other words, it can potentially exist by itself, independently of thoughts, consciousness and the body. And it is supposed to have the capacity to direct the body, to perform various actions, to think about various matters, and to be conscious of whatever presents itself in the moment.

Furthermore, it also has a name and some positive and negative traits, which are based on the characteristics of the body, the thought process and behavior. For example, some of my negative traits might be that I’m not handsome, my IQ is low, and I’m clumsy. Another assumption is that this thing persists through time, which implies both continuity and change (“I was a child once, and I’ve changed quite a lot since then”).

The first assumption should really be questioned. The self is not primary at all. What is primary is the body, consciousness and then thoughts. When the thoughts are there, including the thought “I”, there appears a mental description of an imagined independently-existing entity, to which all these traits and characteristics are then attributed. Some of the traits and characteristics are real, but the entity isn’t. When fact is mixed with fiction, the result is still fiction.

Does this mean that I never existed? That could be one way of expressing it. However, it could also be said that the word “I” now simply gets a different meaning, which is quite useful for practical purposes. There is no separate, independently existing “I”, there is no “I” other than the stream of thoughts, consciousness and the body. Thoughts are in fact part of the process of consciousness, as is the experience of the body. There’s no real, deep separation within this process.

The self-illusion

Great talk on the same topic

Beyond Meds: Alternatives to Psychiatry

The self is not what we think it is.

Sue Blackmore is a psychologist and writer researching consciousness, memes, and anomalous experiences, and a Visiting Professor at the University of Plymouth. She blogs for the Guardian, and often appears on radio and television. The Meme Machine (1999) has been translated into 16 other languages; more recent books include Conversations on Consciousness: What the Best Minds Think about the Brain, Free Will, and What It Means to Be Human(2005), Zen and the Art of Consciousness(2011), and a textbook Consciousness: An Introduction(2nd Ed 2010).

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