Q: How can I tell when suffering is unnecessary?

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Capitol Reef National Park, Utah

I suffer because I don't have a partner.  How much of this is non-egoic suffering — that natural suffering that is part of being human and thus of having basic needs such as for intimacy and social connection.

How can I tell when it is egoic suffering and unnecessary?

This type of question is very difficult to answer because the question usual comes from the suffering itself.  A holding and compassionate response frequently is far more useful than the one I am likely to give here.  Exploring the specifics of suffering is best left to a psychological consideration or perhaps to body-work, and it is often better suited to a one-on-one interaction, something that writing does not allow and I will not attempt here.

So with that as an introduction, please forgive my response if you find it offensive.

Suffering is never necessary.  It can even be said that it is entirely of the "mind" and thus not real in any absolute sense.  Pain is part of the human experience, but suffering need not accompany the pain.  Loss and longing are often painful, but when the mind fixates on the pain, suffering is the inevitable result.

It is important to distinguish here the difference between "pain" and "suffering".  Pain is one of the body's responses to the physical world.  Pain can be mild and easily incorporated in one's life, and it can be severe, so pervasive that it dominates the current experience.

Suffering is one of the mind's responses to the world.  I am distinguishing "thought" from "mind" and loosely define the latter as thought patterning that is accompanied by a sensation of continuity (and perhaps in some circles called "ego").  Without the mind, without ruminative thoughts, there is no suffering.

When we loose a loved one or experience a deep longing such as the desire for relationship (or the loss of one), much of the discomfort we experience can be described as a rejection of the current situation or lamentation of a past situation (which of course can only happen currently).  Some of the discomfort is the body's response to the loss or longing, but the dominant experience is usually the mind's response and its amplification with many layers of thought patterns and ruminations.  We could also describe suffering as the mind's insistence on attempting to live in the past or future (which is of course not possible and thus deeply painful).

When we look at the suffering of others, it is often easy to see much of their discomfort comes from their relationship to their life-situation, and not the life situation itself.  Yet when we are in the midst of our own suffering, our mind easily thwarts clear seeing and our own stories often dominate in a convincing way and thus leading us to believe our own story has deep seated truth (and thereby trapping us within the belief of the suffering).

There are a number of therapeutic practices that offer explorations to ease the experience of suffering (such as ACT or CBT) and there are also a number of spiritual practices that can provide relief as well (such as meditation or Buddhist Metta practice).  Because of the nature of this blog, I will direct my response to a deeper truth (but please don't read that as a "better" truth) and perhaps point to another avenue of exploration...

Pain is a natural part of the mind/body's experiencing.  When we stub a toe or break a leg, the body informs us that attention may be necessary to remediate the situation.

Suffering is of the mind and is fundamentally a demonstration of the deep-seated belief in our sense of separation, our sense that we are distinct and separate from the outside world.  Suffering could also be described as a belief in thought, a belief in the mind's patterning, and a by product of that way of thinking is the belief that we are (in part) our thoughts.  While there is often physical sensations that are associated with suffering, more often than not those sensations are the body's reaction to the thought/belief patterning (and not the other way around... although the suffering may initially be the reaction to a physical stimuli).

When we ask ourselves: "Is it absolutely necessary that we suffer in this current life-situation?" our own knowing will lead us to the obvious answer: "No it is not absolutely necessary and it is possible to imagine that there is another response to this situation which would not cause suffering"… and there lies the recognition that we in fact know that our suffering is not necessary and that it is instead of the mind (the ego, in some parlance) and not because of the our life-situation.  By no means interpret this as a judgement or as a claim that we "shouldn't" suffer.  It is instead just a clear seeing of the fact that suffering is not required in the situation.

When we can acknowledge this, we may then become curious about the basic dynamic that is occurring when we are suffering and we may discover a pattern that includes a fixation on thought and the rumination of why our life-situation is as it is or how it should be instead, and we notice that the thought patterning is rejecting the immediacy of our experience.  At this point, the mind might try to analyze this patterning… and thereby again getting itself lost in more mind patterning.  Yet if we instead hold true to the exploration of the dynamic itself and not of the content, we can then explore the nature of thought and discover that all thought is relative and thus it is dependent upon opposites.  

Without "up" there can be no "down".  Without "light" there can be no "dark".  Without "here" there can be no "there". 

"Up" is down when we are above it.  No night is "dark" relative to absolute darkness.  "There" is here when we are there.

When there is an "inside" there must be an "outside".  When there is "red" there must be "non-red".  When there is "tall" there must be "short".   When there is "me" there must be a "you". 

We can be "outside" a room and still be inside a house.  Yellow is "non-red" but it is also a mix of red and green.  You may be "tall", but it is likely you are shorter than a building.  From your perspective, "you" is me.

With this recognition, we eventually discover that all thoughts are relative and thus only relatively "true" based upon some previous thought… which itself is no more real than… well... not real at all because it is dependent upon a "before" thought which was no less relative than the current thought.

For many, this is a very difficult to grasp.  Most of us hold steadfast to the blind faith in our thoughts and words, yet all the while ignoring how relative they are to a particular perspective (life-situation).  One day we think X is true and the next day Y is true instead.  If you allow yourself, you can see that that fixation on the truth of our thoughts is really quite absurd.

If you stay with this exploration long enough, the final conclusion is that no thought is true.  None.  Nada.  Not even this one!  Yes, thoughts can be quite useful at times, but only when they are seen for what they are; thoughts are simply appearances like any other appearance (object) and by definition relative and thus "defined" by their relationship to other objects (which are constantly "changing" and thus not real in any absolute sense).

So perhaps at this point we recognize that suffering occurs when we believe our current thoughts to have absolute truth.  Said another way: suffering occurs when we believe the immediacy of the moment could be different (again: when we believe what our thoughts are telling us).

Without thought, can there be suffering?  When "No" becomes the clear answer, we can then return to the basic experience of suffering and see that it is causeless… and like any appearance, it is known to be already accepted and like all appearances, it "passes".  Without the fuel of the belief in thought, suffering can no longer have a hold on us and it stops becoming the focus of our attention.  Without the belief in the mind-patterning (the story) that maintains the suffering, why would we even care about the suffering (or for that matter, even call it "suffering")?

So if suffering is thought patterning and if thoughts are not real, then what is?

Does anything exist without thought?

Clearly there are gaps "between" thoughts…    

          Does existence cease "during" those gaps?

                       Do "we" disappear between thoughts?

Q: How do I know that experience is the right litmus test for reality?

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Near Crump Lake in the high desert of South Central Oregon

I used to reference thought as my basis of reality.  Now my teacher says that I should instead base it on experience.

How do I know that experience is the right litmus test for reality?

Maybe there is something else?

All paths point to the same place.  Some may be more direct than others, but even the most indirect ends up in the "same place".

It's not likely that your teacher is saying that you must use experience, but she is instead offering it as one "path".   She is probably also suggesting that if you choose to use the mind as your path of exploration, then do so with integrity.

The inquiry into what is "real" is an exploration that usually begins with the belief that a "rock", or a "tree", or a "thought" is in an absolute sense separate and distinct for other objects.   For this discussion, we can start by defining "real" to mean immutable, indivisible, and always true. 

When we begin to explore what we "know" to be true, we quickly bump into the recognition that what we believe "real" is more conceptual than concrete. 

For example, is it complete to say "I know the sky is blue"?  No, of course not.  

How about: "The sky above my head is blue"?  

Or "Right now the space above my head appears blue."  

Or "Within my vision, my ocular nerves are sending signals that my brain then translates into 'blue sky'."  

Or "Neurons are firing and the thought 'Blue sky' is appearing."

Or "Carbon, oxygen, et al, are combining and recombining in billions of combinations…."

Or "Electrons and neutrons are interacting in statistically significant ways and they…."

… etc, down the rabbit hole of "knowledge".  Everywhere we start, we quickly recognize it is conceptual, based upon a previous layer of concepts, and thus it is a belief built upon a previous conceptualization of "reality".  Yet each layer can be divided, broken down into more basic parts.  In the end we hit a wall and must concede: I don't know anything for certain!

What I "know" is simply what I believe I know…  and a belief is just a thought.  So if our knowledge isn't safe to base our understanding on, then what is?  At this point in our exploration, we might begin to explore our experience.

What do you really know other than your experience?  And while we are at it: What is this thing that we call "experience"? 

Testing our experience, we can of course go through the same exercise as we did above, but in the end, we again bump into a wall (as I am sure your teacher has walked you towards).  So instead, for simplicity, we will take another tack and consider experience itself.

When we say:  "I had an experience", we really mean: "I am now experiencing remembering that experience".  After all, is it possible to have a past experience?  Of course not.  So that means that all experience is simply the "recalling" now of a "past experience."

We can also recognize that an experience occurs in time, and therefore must include the past.  This is true because there can be no measurement of time in the immediacy of this singular moment, and therefore an experience must be an object in time because it describes an event, or sequence of events, which has a start and an end (the start being the more distant past and the end being a less distant past).

Again: Is it possible to experience something in the past?  No.  So how can an experience really exist if it can't exist now?  It can't!

So we have again come full circle, via another path of exploration within our "experience", and we conclude:

All we can possible know is experiencing itself.  Just the experiencing of the immediacy of NOW.

Be clear: what is being pointed to by your teacher is just a pointing.  It offers the "individual" a way of questioning its existence as a separate self.  Our belief in the subject-object model is just a belief.  It is just a conceptualization…  and it is happening right NOW!

What is actually happening right now?  Right NOW?

Is this real?

Q: You seem like a different person and far away from me in space.

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Central Nevada, halfway between Tonopah and Ely

You seem like a different person and far away from me in space.

How are you not?

I am a different person than you and I am far away… from the perspective of the separate self (the dualistic viewpoint). 

"From" a non-dualistic "perspective" there is no subject (thus no objects either) and therefore me, you, distance, etc cannot exist in any real sense.  Distance is the measurement between two objects and "you" and "I" would be objects (even as a subject, still an object), so "from" this "perspective" neither exists in any concrete sense.  (I've used quotes here because strictly speaking, there is no perspective at all)

We've communicated before, so I know you are immersed in the non-duality consideration and I therefore need not discuss it here.  Instead, let's play a bit of a perspective game and see if we can come up with another explanation of our common experience.

Imagine that you are sitting on a chair in a room 100 miles from me sitting on a chair of my own.  The room you are in is windowless and the door closed and other than the chair and you, there is nothing in the room.

As you sit there in the darkness, you know that I am sitting on my own chair 100 miles away.  ...Wait...  That's not correct.  Isn't it more true to say that you only imagine that I am sitting on a chair and that you imagine that I am 100 miles away?  After all, how do you know for sure?

Let's add a phone to your room.  You call me and I tell you I am sitting on a chair.  Do you now know I am sitting on a chair?  Isn't it possible I didn't tell you the truth and so therefore you still can only imagine that I am sitting on a chair (and even it were true, you still can only imagine it).

Let's translate this a bit.  From your experience, all you know about my experience is what you imagine of it.  Even when I tell you I'm sitting on a chair, you still have to conjure up words and images in your own mind to represent what you hear me saying, and thus you are really just translating my words into what you imagine my experience might be.  Said another way: your experience of my experience remains your experience alone.

Now this may seem too simplistic to model your real life, but let's test it a bit by taking it outside the confines of the little room. 

If you and I were to meet, would you know my experience as I know it?  No, of course not.  If I told you of my experience, would you then know it as I do?  Again, of course not.  ALL of your experience is from your perspective and thus everything you experience must be a singular view of experience, and therefore can never ever include the actual experience of another.

Stop for a moment and consider that.  We have just come up with a demonstration that the entire world, as viewed from your perspective, is entirely of your creation!

Let's move to the park and join a friend.  From your point of view, the tree over there is viewed only from your perspective.  Your friend standing next to you articulating her view of the same tree is heard by you and thus again translated into your understanding of her perspective (and therefore remains your perspective of hers).  And it's worth noting that the tree over there, from your experience, is really only your brain's translation of reflected light (a bunch of colors and shades), a translation that calls it "a tree over there".  From your immediate experience, you really have no idea what is actually happening… it is only a personal translation that gives you "evidence" of the "tree".

Yes, I seem to be a different person than you, but I can only be known by you through your own perspective and therefore (it can be argued) I am your creation and thus you. 

Yes, I do seem to be far away, yet if I were writing this in a house next door to yours, wouldn't your experience of me be the same as if I was 100 miles away?

See what we've done here?  We created another world-view that is different than the standard model (and yet still remains dualistic).  The common world-view is just… well, a certain world-view that is quite convincing... but only from within the limits of its perspective.  Yet when we acknowledge that it is dependent upon a number of assumptions, we open the door to other possibilities.  Conversely, when we fixate on a single perspective, there is little room for real exploration.  It is only when we free our mind from the responsibility to define our "world" that other possibilities become available.

Again to be clear: the example above was not one of a non-dual perspective (although admittedly, it hints toward it).  It was simply an exercise to create a different viewpoint that acknowledges that you and I can be one-and-the-same (and thus there would be no distance between us).

Let yourself explore your experience.  Really explore it.

Discover that all you really know is the experiencing itself.

Q: Are there good metaphors for how the mind misperceives itself as separate?

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Lake Crescent in Olympic National Park, WA

One of my favorite teachers uses the movie screen and movie as a metaphor for reality.

I sometimes think what I am is similar to smoke taking shape as form -- and then there is a little tornado or something at the head region that loops back on itself.  When attention gets sucked into this looping tornado (which is the story of “me”), consciousness is only aware of the little "I" story and it is missing the billions of miles of space outside of the tiny tornado.

Neither of these metaphors fully gets the experience of non-duality known here. Can you think of a metaphor for how the body/mind misperceives itself as separate?

First we must understand that these are only metaphors, and as such they are limited in their usefulness.  Language cannot point directly to understanding (nor can anything else).  Among other things, metaphors offer the mind a glimpse at the possibility that it (the self) perhaps doesn't understand the "full picture".

In the metaphor of the movie and screen, the screen plays the role of awareness (or oneness, by some tellings) and the movie that plays upon the screen is duality (subject and objects).  We, as individuals, are characters in the movie and as such are unable to see the screen upon which we are playing and we believe our role as separate individuals.  We can turn, look back, up and down, and even within, and we can never see the screen itself (after all, all of our actions are playing out in the movie, beyond our limits to perceive as characters "on" the screen).

As a separate self, I cannot see that I am playing within awareness (the screen).  Yet as the screen, everything shows up within/upon me, and all remains dimensionless from this perspective (the screen is immeasurably thin).  Everything, absolutely everything is allowed to be displayed upon the screen and like awareness, the screen is not affected in any way by what is displayed upon it.

The characters that play within awareness (the screen) are just that, characters, and thus are not "real" and are no more substantial than the tree that shows up on the screen or the passing cat.  They believe they are real and separate from the other characters and object on the screen, yet they are in fact equal and the same as everything else on the screen.   They are just projections... of light, in this case.

Summing it up, we can say that the objects on the screen are separate from each other only from within the perspective of the movie, yet from the screen's (awareness') perspective they are dimensionless and are one (or better: not two, not separate).

Let's look at your metaphor.  If I understand it correctly, the smoke plays the role of awareness. When it collects in dense regions, objects are apparently formed… yet they remain just smoke, and thus it is only in appearance that they seem to be objects. 

Thoughts in your metaphor appear convincing because they seem to perceive other thoughts and objects (other concentrations of smoke).  The smoke takes shape into thoughts like "I need this work deal to come through.   I need my kids to listen to me.   I need more financial security.   ...and then I will be happy.”  The swirling seems dense and real and it quickly loops back onto itself, concentrating attention away from the vastness of experiencing into a narrow and convincing illusion of "me" and "my life".

Another metaphor is the wave upon an ocean.  The wave (the individual) may appear to be separate, but it is in fact the same as the rest of the water (oneness).  It forms and seems very distinct, and then it falls back into oneness.  Even when it crashes to the shore it is never separate from the water itself.

Yet another metaphor is that of a mirror and the reflections upon it.  The mirror (awareness) will reflect anything and everything, yet it remains completely untouched by what it reflects.  All that appears within it is just a reflection, and is thus one (and not multiple objects).  Nothing that is reflected in the mirror is "real" or permanent.

The metaphor of the dream and the dreamer also works as a modeling of limits of duality, but for brevity sake I will not explore it here (although I may revisit it in another post).   

So, as you requested, I will create a new metaphor: An actor and the play she performs in.  Here the actor is awareness and the role she plays is a character in duality. 

As an actor, it is most convincing if we take on our role seriously and completely become the character within the play.  When we do this, the stage and props become very, very real to this character (the separate self in this metaphor).  Our acted persona perfectly reflects the character and our every movement is indistinguishable from the actual person we are playing. 

Within this play there are other actors who are just as gifted as we are and their roles are no less convincing.  From our character's point of view, they are not actors and instead they appear very real indeed.

Now what happens if we play this character so completely that we forget that we are acting and thus then believe that we are the character itself?  From our new perspective (the character's), it is not possible to perceive the actor ... because the character has become real, and the actor must then be, at best, only be a figment of the imagination of the character.

This metaphor, like the others, creates a modeling that shines light on the limits of the duality framework.  It also demonstrates how the character cannot (by definition) perceive the actor who is playing it (the separate self cannot perceive awareness).  Similar to the others, this metaphor shows that as characters in the play, we have forgotten what we really are. 

It can also be noted that it too has its limits.  For example, the mind can argue "Ok fine.  But when I remember I am an actor and not the character I am playing, I can walk away and join the others actors off-stage and I'm therefore still a separate individual".  In response, we can then modify the metaphor and suggest that it isn't a play, but instead a puppet show where you (awareness/oneness) are playing all the characters and from within each, forgetting that you are just a puppet.

Try as we might though, when the purpose of the metaphor is misunderstood, the mind will always find a way to poke holes in it and there lies the answer to your question: There is no metaphor that will allow the mind to perceive that it is not separate.

All metaphors are concessions to the belief that we are separate and if we remain committed to this perspective, ALL attempts at understanding will fail.  When the metaphor is viewed as a complete description, the mind (the self) will resist understanding and a "you" will remain locked in the belief in the subject-object world-view.  If you believe you are a separate self, then you are as you believe.

Again: these types of metaphors are only useful when they are not taken literally and are instead used to encourage doubt in the fixation of the subject-object model.  

Understanding is not of the mind.  Understanding is just understanding.  It is not a thought.  It is nothing.  No thing.  The mind (?!!) only understands concepts and concepts are dualistic, relational, and by their nature dependent upon a subject-object configuration.

The metaphors are pointing to understanding.  Like all teachings, they can only point.  Let them be what they are. 

Let the mind go.  Let it go.

-- PS: When you realize that you are not the character in the play (and aren't anything), you can then return to the play and enjoy watching the actor play its character!  How fun!

Q: What is it that allows me to direct my attention?

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Wood Canyon Road, Death Valley

I just did a meditation that Rupert Spira encourages, where I shift my attention between thinking, sensing, and listening.

What is it that is directing the attention to these three things? It feels like something I am in control of, that I am doing it. It seems like I am here and I choose to put my attention on certain things and shift attention between certain things.

What is going on here?

Rupert is offering an exercise in experiencing.  It is a concession to the belief that you are an individual and that "you" have a free will that directs your attention from thinking to sensing, to listening, and back again.

From the perspective of the individual, the "I" decides to first pay attention to thinking, then to sensing, then to listening.  There is thus an apparent choice to move the attention between one of the three explorations.

His exercise is not intended to fortify the belief in a separate self, but instead its purpose is to help you recognize the simplicity of experiencing itself.  By moving our attention to "thinking" we give permission to explore this "form" of experiencing.  The same can be said when we explore "sensing" and "listening" (and "seeing", etc).

When we begin to notice that the seeing of the mountain in the distance occurs in the same place as does the seeing of the chair across the room, a curiosity may arise that wants to explore why this is so.  We may also notice that the thinking about the mountain and about the chair also occur in the same place as the seeing occurs (as does listening and sensing).

When these discoveries are really taken in, our world changes.  When "out there" and "in here" become less fixed, the belief in a "you" out there and the "me" in here become harder to maintain.  Without a "me" in here, how can "I" be chooser of where "my" attention goes?

Even when we look at it through the lens of the separate self, we may see that we are not the chooser, and instead only appear to be the chooser.  When you were "choosing" to shift your attention to your thinking, did your attention ever wander?  When you were listening, did any thoughts appear?  Did you choose to have your attention wander or for those thoughts to appear?

If you were the chooser, wouldn't you always choose to be joyous and open-hearted?

By definition, the individual chooses its action.  If you are really certain that the individual was the ultimate truth, then what are you looking for? 

Isn't it possible that you already know what you are looking for?  Isn't it possible that it is only this "you" that is in the way?  Are you certain this is not so?

Trust your answers to those questions.    

Q: My needs seem at odds with the spiritual teachings

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The cliffs south of Lake Abert, Oregon

I feel like I really have needs that have to be met.  When I don’t spend enough intimate time with people, I feel a white wall of disconnection and loneliness.  It feels like a real need to have a certain amount of intimate social connection.   It feels like the social needs I have have to be seen, respected, and steps must to be taken to meet these needs or I am drained, sleeping all the time and not functioning well.

How do I reconcile noticing and taking real steps to meet these needs on the relative level, and yet somehow reconcile it with the non-dual message, the teaching that says there is not a separate self here, that what I really am is everything, so I shouldn't need this things to feel normal, alive, and not drained?

All teachings are misunderstood… until they are no longer needed.  As a seeker of understanding we by definition misinterpret the teachings and we thus may attempt to overlay them onto our lives in ways they were not intended.

It can be said that this misunderstanding is inevitable, perhaps even necessary, and that the discomfort that results from this brings voice to our spiritual explorations.  As individuals, we are prone to believe that certain thought patterns, or meditation sequences, or mantras, or teachers, etc, are necessary for understanding to occur.  This belief is really quite silly… and wonderfully unavoidable... until it fall away (or perhaps more clearly: not picked up).

When the individual begins to seriously consider spiritual teachings, we study them from the perspective of separation, that sense that I am an individual, independent and separate from you, another individual (or if you prefer, that I am separate from the tree over there and from these words right here).  Soon we hear that we are not supposed to feel separate and so quite unintentionally we, the individual, attempt to construct a sense of ourselves that is separate from our sense of being an individual… and that of course creates yet another sense of separation (albeit, it appears to the mind to be different) and we remain trapped in our spiritual seeking.

When we believe we are distinct and separate from our world, any spiritual teaching, including the non-dual consideration, is by definition just another conceptual framework that we will overlay upon our sense of separation.  This is very difficult for the seeking mind to accept and thus the efforting continues and we find more and more subtle ways to remain in the belief that we are separate.

Let’s look at your question from what you term “the relative level” and see where it takes us.  After all, if we are “everything”, isn’t the relative perspective no less valid, no less “true” than a more “pure” consideration?  This will allow us to abandon the non-dual legalize and instead trust our own knowing, our own wisdom as we explore your question.

When we experience the loneliness and sense of disconnection that you speak of, our mind overlays a story on it (in fact, many stories).  Perhaps we feel that we are missing our friends, or that we are not lovable, or that our life-situation is not adequate and we feel trapped, etc.  There is nothing wrong with these stories, these feeling and sensations… yet when we believe the story to be the ultimate truth, we misunderstand our discomfort and our mind loops back upon itself, feeding the story until it becomes a belief, until it becomes our reality.

“I am lonely.  I am depressed.  I am disconnected.”  Let’s try changing the wording just a little, while still remaining true to the experience:  “I feel lonely.  I feel depressed.  I feel disconnected.”  No less true, right?  Yet by substituting “I feel” for “I am” we have discovered that indeed I am not lonely, depressed, or disconnected, but instead I am feeling these things and thus I am probably more than just these feelings.

Taking it another step forward: “I am experiencing a sense of loneliness, depression, and disconnection.”  Or even clearer: “I am experiencing something that I translate into loneliness, depression, and disconnection.” 

While we are at it, we can also describe our experience more fully by including some other parts of our experiencing: “I am feeling the bed beneath me.  I am hearing the traffic in the street.  I wonder what time it is.”  With each of these subtle shifts in wording, we have now acknowledged that we aren’t loneliness itself, nor depression, nor disconnection, but instead we are experiencing what we have labeled as such, and we are also experiencing other things as well (although our attention isn’t as focused on them).

We can of course take this farther, and farther, parsing our experience down and away from the translations, and into the simplicity of experiencing itself and thus “away” from the overlay of the stories that our mind paints our experiencing to be.  “The area above my stomach feels tight, heavy.” “I feel a certain pressure behind my eyes.” “I am noticing a ruminative pattern, familiar thoughts coming into my awareness.”  etc. We can even remove the "I" from our language and recognize that there is a tingling and an appearance of a thought that says "it is above my stomach" (after all, it is only a thought that "identifies" its as "above" "my" "stomach").

When we follow this deeper and do this exercise a number of times, we begin to discover it holds true for everything.  Absolutely everything.  When we really allow our experience, we end up recognizing that all we really know is the experiencing itself (and all else, including this writing, is just a translation).  We discover that each thought, or more clearly, that the experiencing of a patterning that we label “a thought” … is nothing more than a “thought” (or a firing of synapses, or energy, or…), and when we remain true to this exploration, we discover that the thought actually has no connection with the previous thought… and instead, it is simply part of the experiencing that appears to suggest that it is connected!

Our minds want to understand this experiencing, to put language to it.  Yet in cannot be understood by the mind.   The closest we can come to explain it is . . . and here our words fail us.  Only silence remains.

So when we recognize this, the teaching begins to make sense.  We discover that there is no problem with wanting to be with our friends.  Or with feeling depressed because we are not with them.  Nor is there even a problem with the silly stories that play in our heads about this or that.  The stories themselves are no problem.  No problem at all.  They are simply a patterning that is appearing.  And when they are no problem, what remains to maintain them? 

When the stories play, let yourself notice that you in fact don’t fully believe them (although it may seem that you do).  Let yourself notice that when a story appears, your attention moves to it.  Notice that this awareness is part of the experiencing.

It’s not that we shouldn’t have this need, or that need.  If it is appearing, it is appearing.  What could we possibly do about that?!  We are not the thoughts.  We are not the feelings.  After all, isn’t this “I” that I believe myself to be, also that which is noticing the thoughts, feelings, sensations?

What is noticing the noticing?  Become curious about that.