This exquisite little poem popped up on a Facebook page where I probably spend too much time. The poet is Julie Klopp, who acknowledges the influences of Edgar Allen Poe and Dr. Seuss. She expressed a little worry that "spiritual" poems should look a particular way and this one doesn't, but I think it's fantastic.
Sucked into the vortex
of my cerebral cortex, I live for that which comes next, caught in a web of time.
I think I am a person who must strive and push and try, because things can only worsen, and someday I will die.
So I decide I need analysis to find the place beyond my mess, to transcend myself and make progress, and find my pure Consciousness, my link to the Divine.
I think that others have It, I search from place to place, even as they tell me there's nothing there to chase.
From time to time I stop to look and realize it hasn't worked. Perhaps I'll read another book... and get it right next time.
Eventually I've failed enough, tired of looking for other stuff, it really shouldn't be this tough, this quest of mine.
What is there to do now? Perhaps I'm getting wise. Stop worshipping some sacred cow, it's time to realize...
That there's no past to work through, no self to understand, not a single thought is truthful when it comes to What I Am.
There is no "me" appearing, no person that needs steering, no karma that needs clearing, without a thought of "mine".
There is no trick to figure out, no veil to penetrate, no reason I must doubt, no reason I must wait.
The secret I've been keeping is I am what I've been seeking. I need no further tweaking, everything is fine.
There is no somewhere else, there is no other time, there are no other selves, there's not even a Divine.
Scott is back in town and spoke this evening in Newton, a suburb
of Boston. His work has been evolving in interesting directions over the
last six or seven months since his last Boston area visit, and now focuses on a set of inquiries that he has developed from his experience working with hundreds of people. Here's a nice video by Fiona Robertson, one of the people who has trained with Scott to facilitate the inquiries for people.
This blog post would be remiss not to mention the inquiries but I'd like to move on to some other stuff. One of the ideas mentioned in an earlier post is what Scott calls the "velcro effect", where thoughts (words and pictures) become entangled with body sensations, and hard to pick apart. An example would be if you're in pain, and simultaneously with the physical sensations of pain, there are thoughts rapidly flitting through your consciousness like "this is unbearable" or "I'm afraid this is going to get much worse" or "I shouldn't have to deal with this". If I can notice those thoughts and sensations and keep them separate, the entire situation becomes much more tolerable. And in general, the velcro-ing together of thoughts and body sensations is responsible for a lot of avoidable suffering.
This evening Scott expanded on that and some related ideas. Looking at the notes I scribbled, here's what I found particularly compelling.
Often we seek or crave something (a fast car, a romantic partner, a donut, enlightenment) and that seeking can become a source of suffering. The act of seeking is the indulgence of the velcro effect applied to the thing in question, how it feels to lack it and wish we had it. So it obstructs direct experience in the present of what is going on in our body and mind. If we allow ourselves to experience those directly, our craving diminishes in intensity and can even turn to indifference. The seeking unwinds. Whenever we find ourselves emotionally triggered by the people or events around us, it's helpful to take a moment to pick apart the thoughts from the body sensations and experience each directly. Doing this repeatedly, we find that our capacity to cope with life's variations is much greater than we believed.
Awakening is simply being here without seeking awakening.
Connecting back to the inquiries mentioned above, one of the recent and more effective inquiries is the Compulsion Inquiry. It sometimes seems we are driven or compelled to do something, sometimes even something we don't want to do. When I drive past a Dunkin Donuts, there is often a strong urge to stop and get a Boston Creme donut. In the Compulsion Inquiry, we sniff around among our thoughts, feelings, and body sensations, to see if we can find a very literal command like "You must eat a donut". As we look around, un-velcroing as necessary, we find that the command does not exist anywhere. That might seem obvious enough -- how could a "command" appear in a collection of only words and pictures and feelings and body sensations? -- but actually going through the process has a very liberating effect.
Since there is a Dunkin Donuts on the route that I was driving home, I decided to give it a try. I parked in the parking lot and started thinking about getting a donut. I could visualize the process of buying it. No particular charge there, a set of mental pictures not velcroed to any feeling or body sensation. I could visualize holding the donut, and I'm starting to get a visceral reaction. Biting into the donut, tasting it, imagining the texture and sensation of swallowing it. Now there are body sensations and feelings, so separate them from the words and pictures and dig into the raw sensations. Experience them and look for a command anywhere among them. Nope, no command, so go back to the words and pictures. Plenty of descriptions of donuts and donut-buying and donut-eating scenarios, in both pictures and words, but no actual command. If I had found something, like an emotionally charged thought of "I want a donut", I would have un-velcroed the feelings and body sensations that gave it the emotional charge and looked just at the letters "I w a n t a d o n u t" or the phonemes "Aye uu aa nn tt uh d oh n uh t", looking to see which letter or which phoneme was where the command actually resided. Again that might seem silly, but going through the exercise, you're left with a big freedom around donut eating. And by the end of the exercise, I was utterly indifferent about whether or not to eat a donut, and I continued driving home.
I saw this video the other day, wherein Gary Weber described his experience of having his thoughts slow down and stop. At the time he was a high-powered executive and when he went to work in the morning, he expected that the absence of thoughts would be a problem for conducting business. But he found that he was still entirely functional. The absence of thoughts brought him peace and joy, without any apparent downside.
I've once or twice had a similar experience but for me it's not lasted more than five or ten minutes. The onset when it has happened has been astonishing. Thoughts just come to a stop, and whatever I was about to think about, it seems like it can wait until later.
When I look at what prevents this happening more often, it's a couple of things. One is that I suffer from a belief that if I'm thinking about something, it must be important and I'd better be careful not to forget it, so I need to continue thinking about it. Another is a belief that thinking will protect me from harm, because thinking is (allegedly) a good way to anticipate and avoid potential problems. But that's not really borne out by experience: thinking, at least of the gadfly variety, is far more likely to distract me from things of real importance.
I was thinking about Scott Kiloby's exercise of resting in awareness, and thinking that it's a nice way to have this thought-free experience for a few seconds. In those seconds, there is an absence of the usual sorts of suffering that one experiences on a daily basis. One is not concerned about the future of one's career or relationship or health. One does not suffer self-esteem issues or painful memories of childhood or family interactions. One simply experiences what is present in the moment in a peaceful way. And thoughts are conspicuous by their absence.
Having had the experience of thoughtlessness and found it quite pleasant. I'm interested in recapturing it, and I wonder if it might be possible to remain in the resting-in-awareness exercise for a minute, and later an hour, and later an entire day, and eventually all the time. When I try to do this, what comes up to hinder my attempt?
I usually start with my eyes closed, and it's simply not practical to go through my day with my eyes closed. But I can continue with the eyes open, focusing on body sensations like breathing or warmth to avoid getting too engaged in thoughts. Next comes the fear that without thoughts, I will lack ambition, and without ambition, I won't accomplish anything. Rationally I know that my thoughts often get in the way of ambitions more than helping with them. And I know I'll run into the belief that thinking is necessary for safety, and again rationally I know that's not the case. I think this is something to continue tinkering with, and see if I can get anywhere with it.
I've been reading Standing as Awareness the past few days. Greg Goode addresses questions that might come up for a reader or listener, where other non-duality teachers might just say "Don't over-analyze it" or "You're in your head". A person might indeed be in their head, over-analyzing things, but perhaps they're simply stuck at that place until their questions have been satisfactorily addressed.
On pages 13 through 15, there is a delightfully lucid exploration of how external physical objects can be regarded as awareness. He begins with an examination of vision, and points out that the raw data of vision is nothing more than colors and shapes and the boundaries between shapes. Any sense of distance, size, location, or material properties does not inhere in the visual experience, it is something that you've inferred. Outside of thought, there is no evidence for these additional properties, so if one is to be rigorous, they can be considered inessential to the present-moment experience of the object.
In terms of your experience in the moment, a coffee cup is indistinguishable from the shapes and colors you see. There is no vantage point from which you can see the cup as one thing, and the shapes and colors as another. They are identical in your experience. Likewise, these colors and shapes are indistinguishable from the act of seeing: there is no seeing apart from the shapes and colors seen. Finally, there is no awareness distinguishable from the objects of awareness. There's no vantage point from which you can see awareness over here, and colors and shapes over there. So all these things are identical, and so the coffee cup is a "piece" of awareness.
Within a couple of pages, Goode tackles the objection that will arise in the minds of many people looking at this chain of identity. How can the world's objects not exist physically, outside one's awareness? Is one to believe that objects cease to exist when one stops looking in their direction? Wouldn't we reasonably expect anybody making such a claim to get a clinical diagnosis and a prescription for psych meds? Goode grants that external existence of objects is a possibility but not one that can be irrefutably confirmed in your own direct experience. The apparent persistence of objects is a conclusion drawn from memory, and memory is notoriously fallible.
I once saw a discussion along similar lines between Rupert Spira and Chris Hebard. When I heard these ideas presented, they were so new and so at odds with my notion of an objective reality outside myself that I could barely follow along. I find that when my notion of reality is confronted at such a basic level, I may become sleepy or distracted. Goode's book gave me another angle of attack, with great lucidity and intelligence, and has made this stuff more accessible.
Goode goes on to talk about the recognition of a witnessing awareness once the identity of all things is seen as awareness. The witness arises, then just as suddenly evaporates into pure consciousness. That's what he says, anyway, but I have to admit that at this point I'm well out of my depth. Nevertheless, it's written with clarity and intelligence and accessible discussion of otherwise esoteric topics, and I recommend it. He has another book out, The Direct Path, and I look forward to reading that soon.
As mentioned in my previous post, Scott Kiloby spoke at the Providence Institute this weekend. I always try to make time when Scott's in town because I find him likeable and very accessible. If I get lost, it's always because I've gotten so relaxed that I've fallen asleep, it's never because he's gotten muddy or incomprehensible. Before I forget, I would like to express my gratitude to Julianne Eanniello for the enormous energy she puts into bringing Scott to the Northeast and making his work more available here.
This post is my attempt to summarize the weekend. This is my own memory and understanding (or misunderstanding) of what was said, so take it with a grain of salt because my memory is as bad as anybody else's, and I'll probably give too little emphasis to anything that didn't sound like my own ideas.
As always, Scott emphasized his practice of resting in awareness. It's quick, simple, and easy, and he recommends that people do it repeatedly as they go through their day. It helps to dislodge the hold that your thoughts, opinions, hopes and worries have over your life. It appears throughout his other teachings like a sort of Swiss Army knife of awakening.
Scott talked about his work in designing the Unfindable Object Inquiry. The gist of the inquiry is that often you can suffer due to a belief in something that is really just a fuzzy abstraction that exists only in thought and language. You might suffer if you believe you are unloveable, so the inquiry would be to try to find "unloveable" as a thing that you could directly perceive. Things you can directly perceive include sights, sounds, smells, tastes, body sensations, thoughts, feelings, emotions, etcetera, but none of those things is the object "unloveable".
Frequently the object of the inquiry is a notion of oneself as deficient in some way, "unloveable" being an example. So you go looking for "the person who fails at everything" or "the person people avoid at parties" or "the person whose parents can't stand her". So Scott talks a lot about the "deficient self".
In working with lots of people, Scott has found that when an unfindable object carries an emotional charge, it's because it's difficult to separate the thoughts (words and pictures arising in the mind) from the raw sensation of pain that arises with the thought (such as "I'm unloveable"). The inquiry is designed to pick those apart, and allow you to put aside the thoughts and focus on the feelings.
There are a few habitual strategies that human beings use to deal with painful feelings. We can suppress them, we can try to understand them, we can try to control them, we can distract ourselves, and there might be one or two that I'm forgetting. The point is, we human beings employ thoughts to somehow avoid a direct experience of the painful feelings. But the thoughts cause more suffering than the feelings did.
The direct experience isn't as bad as we fear it will be. Scott's not the first teacher to say this. We should put aside the thoughts and simply feel the feelings, so we can discover that they are tolerable. Then we can forget all those unnecessary complicated thoughts and get on with our lives.
This weekend, Scott Kiloby gave a seminar at the Providence Institute in Rhode Island, following a talk Thursday night in Lincoln MA. I find his work accessible and interesting, and when he's in town I make an effort to go hear him.
The instructions for the weekend were to treat negative experiences (pain, fear, sadness, etc) by noticing that there are thoughts, and there are body sensations. Scott defines thoughts as words and pictures arising in the mind. Words may appear in the mind in written or spoken form. Pictures in the mind may be 2D or 3D, crude line drawings or complex photo-realistic scenes. Body sensations are just the direct feelings in the body, without any thought attached. If you start to describe a sensation as "sharp" or "throbbing" or "itchy" or "cold", you're mixing it with words and thoughts. Just feel it exactly as it is, without labeling.
I often think of awakening as an abstract and impersonal thing, to which the hassles of my daily life are irrelevant. But many of the tools and techniques for awakening are surprisingly practical, and of course it is ordinary human beings with typically trivial daily hassles in their lives who chase awakening.
For me, one of those trivial daily hassles is pain in my hips and lower back. Over the weekend during some meditative moments I found myself distracted by an itchy restlessness in my thighs and calves. All this pain and restlessness has gone on for a few years now, starting in a time when my job and my relationship were both stressful.
As I continued to try to focus my attention, I decided to apply the instructions to the restlessness I was feeling. I noticed that there was a periodic quick tensing of my leg muscles, and in between those tensings, there was an itchy sensation that would build up, and then the tensing would lower it again. I saw that the tensings were actually intentional at some level, and their purpose was to keep the itchy sensation from getting too pronounced. I saw there was a worry that if allowed to continue, the itchy sensations would turn into a full-scale leg cramp. I'd had leg cramps as a teenager and knew they were very painful. It was not surprising that a phenomenon perpetuated by a certain level of fear would have originated during a stressful period of my life.
I observed all these things Friday night. When I went to bed that night, I drank a half-cup of tonic water because the quinine helps calm muscles, and between that and my new understanding, I was able to keep my worry under control and sleep better than I'd slept in months.
Physical pain seems to be a purely physical phenomenon so it's easy to assume that thinking and emotions play no role. But they definitely can make pain feel much worse. I noticed that I had a mental image of the location and shape of the pain in the body, just a sort of very simplistic anatomical diagram, but nevertheless a picture in the mind, and therefore a thought. With some effort I could discriminate between that picture and the raw sensation of pain. When the thoughts are separated from the sensation, the sensation always (in my limited experience) becomes more bearable. "This sensation is unbearable" is itself a thought.
Starting with this simple mental image gave me an opportunity to dig into the role that thinking and emotions played, and from there I had some really useful insight. It also made me hopeful, and that's important when pain involves an aspect of depression or anxiety because a feeling of hopelessness will make it very hard to do anything with the pain.
As with many of Scott's talks, a fundamental practice was his five-second resting in awareness practice. This is a sort of micro-meditation of putting aside all one's thoughts and opinions and views briefly, and noticing the peace and calm that are available in their absence. When I'm doing this frequently, as he advises, I usually find that I notice all kinds of things that I didn't notice while my thoughts were running the show.
The reason for pursuing this stuff is to be happy and to help others become happier. (And a lot of the ideas are interesting.)
People who've made a study of happiness are rare, and offer something unusual. Even among gurus and monks and lamas, it's not often you hear one talking much about happiness.
Here is a TED Talk by Matthieu Ricard, a French monk in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition.
In another TED Talk, Nic Marks talks about measuring happiness as an alternative to GDP.
Ajahn Brahm talks about happiness and its cause, and how we can become happier. A rosier picture of the Four Noble Truths than the bleak emphasis on suffering.
More of Ajahn Brahm's thoughts on happiness. (The audio is a little too loud on this one.)
Here is a five-part Youtube playlist of a weekend seminar presented by Scott Kiloby and Bentinho Massaro. This was in the Boston area, and I had the good fortune to attend. Though I can't claim not to have nodded off once or twice. Challenging ideas sometimes do that to me.
