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

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

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.

Q: It feels like there is a me who decides

The Sierra Nevada Mountains west of Lone Pine, CA  

It feels like there is a “me” in here that decides to do things.  For instance, I am going to decide to do something right now: “Ok… what should I decide to do?  I will decide to do some housework before my friends show up.  Ok… I am going to get up and wash these cups and glasses…. Uh, but I don’t want to get up, I just want to stay seated.  Well… I’m going to get up anyway and wash them, even though I don’t really want to.  So here I go…”

It feels like I am in control of that deciding.  There is some kind of decider in here that can do top down control and over-ride my laziness and decide to do things.  I seem to have agency.  So how is it possible that I am not this decider?

 

Our minds are wonderfully inconsistent.  At first glance, your argument appears precise and flawless.  Yet like all arguments, it is balanced upon the needle tip of assumption.  Let’s look at it more closely and see if a decider (a presumed “you”) really made any decisions.

Ok… what should I decide to do?”  Who decided to decide to do something?  Who decided to write your sentence instead of “What time is it?” or “I think I should take a shower”?

I will decide to do some housework before my friends show up.”  Again, the same question applies here.  Why be concerned about your friends in this moment?  Did you decide to be concerned or did the thought/feeling just show up, un-authored by “you”?  Why did you not decide to paint a picture or go ride your bike instead?

I don’t want to get up, I just want to stay seated… I’m going to get up anyway”  Did you really decide to get up?  Did a decider really decide to get up… or was it perhaps just a thought that showed up, an urge to mobilize?  And even the thoughts that may now give reason to why you decided to get up, where did they come from?  Why are they more valid than any other thought or action (including the ones that you didn’t think of)?

Even if we parse each of the sentences into multiple sub-sentences, creating a “pre-decision” analysis, who decides those sentences, who authors them?  Or the pre-pre-pre-sentences/urges?  And of all of that analysis, is there not a number of other possible parallel considerations that would be equally plausible? 

It certainly is convenient to narrow the consideration down to one, two, or three possible forks in the road, those points where an “I” decided to do this, or that… but isn’t it also just as conceivable that those decision points were themselves a bit arbitrary and that they could have been entirely different?  Did you decide which ones “showed up” and which ones didn’t?

Interestingly enough, when we take your question a bit farther, we start to bump into a different consideration.  Let’s take the premise “I am the decider” and push it.  I am the decider… I decided to get up.  I decided to decide to get up.  I decided to decide to decide to get up.  Quickly it gets ridiculous and we either give up… or we stumble into another question: Who is this "I" that is deciding (or that is aware of the deciding)? Clearly if there is a decider and I am it, and I appear to come before the before of the decision process, what is it that I claim to be?  What exactly am I?

I am the decider.  I am the decider for the decider.  I am before that decider.  I am before even that.  And I am before even that.  Wow.  And then we stumble into the realization that I don’t know what I am.  I really don’t know!

Now we are getting somewhere.