Q: Why do we need to repeatedly practice something to get to a more "natural state"?

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Mission Bay, San Francisco

Why would we need to repeatedly practice something and de-train ourselves to get to a more "natural state"?

The many years of meditation practice that Adyashanti, Gangaji, Rupert Spira, and other teachers have done seems unnatural to me.  So much effort and practice to get to some other state that most humans are not residing in.

How natural can it really be to have to do all that work?

When you reflect the smile of a passing child, does it take training?   Does falling in love take practice?  When you offer a friend a shoulder to cry on, does it take work?

As a culture, what we repeatedly practice is the belief in the separate self.  This practice does take work.  In fact, it takes an enormous amount of effort to maintain this perspective, this belief in a "me". 

Clench your fist as tightly as you can.  Hold it...  Hold it...  Hold it as tightly as you can for about a minute.    And now, before you relax it, notice that it takes effort to unlock your grip.

As separate selves we are like clenched fists.  Quickly it become painful, difficult, and even familiar  ... yet intuitively we know we are not relaxed… but we have become married to the belief that we must remain locked in the constant battle of discontent, and thus letting go can at first appear to be effort full. 

When this efforting becomes clear to us, we then find the courage to not hold on, to drop our fixation in the "me", and POOF! we discover that it is actually really, really hard to maintain the belief in the separate-self, and it is recognized that it is the effort itself that creates the belief. 

The realization isn't a new found knowledge; it is simply that we discover there is nothing to find, nothing missing, nothing needed.  Nothing at all.  The belief that I am a "me" takes a tremendous amount of effort to maintain.   When we stop holding on to the "me", what remains is.  It simply is.  And it takes no effort at all to know this, to be this.

The smile that comes to your face is not born of practice.  The upwelling of the tears of joy do not show up because you will them.  Be clear about this.

Many teachers spent years upon years studying and practicing, all apparently in an effort to acquire understanding.  While it is easy to conclude that the practice was necessary, very few of these same teachers would say it is so.  Perhaps it is necessary.  Perhaps it is not.  Irregardless, do not trap your self in the belief that practice is necessary.  This is not to say that one should not practice; it is simply a recognition that practicing or not practicing is simply part of the appearance, and as such, it is not significant in and of itself.

While the quieting of spiritual practice can be part of a healthy life-style, like exercise and eating, for many it can instead become another form of rejection, a rejecting of what is already here.

Often when we meditate, chant, do self-inquiry, go to satsang, or do the other things that many seekers do, we are looking for something, for some thing that is outside of ourselves, that we believe we are not (yet), that is separate from our experiencing.  This looking is what is in the way. 

STOP!  You will never, ever, ever find what you are looking for.

Stop looking.  Just be.  Understanding is simply the dropping of misunderstanding.  It is not about acquiring anything.  (It is misleading to even call it understanding.)

You already know what you are.  You are simply rejecting that knowing.  It's too obvious.  Just like the teachers that you refer to used to do, you are working really, really hard to be somebody (even if you are trying to be "nobody").

The thought "I am this person I think myself to be" is just a thought.  It is just an appearance.  Nothing more.  Give it no more attention than the thought "Oh, what a pretty blue bird that is." or "Is that a whistle I hear?" or "I wonder what I should eat for supper tonight."  They are just thoughts, appearances within an apparent field of experiencing.

What is aware of those thoughts?  Could it be awareness?  Could it be what all those teachers were seeking?  Could it be that that is always here?

And what is this awareness?  Is it any thing at all?

Q: If you and I are awareness, then why don't you know what I'm thinking and feeling right now?

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The Columbia River, outside of Hood River, OR

In essence, if what I, you, and everyone ultimately is… is awareness, how do we not know what others are thinking and feeling?

Attempting to understand awareness with the mind is like being an actor within a movie and attempting to see the screen that the film is being projected upon.  

As a seeker of spiritual understanding, we try to understand "awareness" from the perspective of a personal self, from the "me" that we believe ourselves to be.  From this perspective (the mind's perspective) it is impossible to experience understanding.  In fact, we could even say that true understanding is the complete absence of any perspective. 

Buddhists use the word "ignorance" to describe the mistranslation we make of our experiencing, a translation that leads a "me" to believe that the patterning of thought we experience is an indication of a separate-self.

These words are not for the mind.  Read them from a quieter place than your intellect -- let your own knowing hear the answers and let your mind rest.

So back to your question:  You are assuming that awareness is personal and that it identifies with one person here and another person there. Your question seeks understanding from the perspective of a personal self, and thus it wants an answer that doesn't exist.  So instead of trying to force understanding into the question, let's stay with the personal perspective from which your question arises, and trust that that may also answer an underlying question. 

Each night we sleep and dream (even when we do not remember them).  When we dream, we fabricate entire imaginary worlds -- after all, they are within the dream and thus limited to the two dimensions of our personal experience while our eyes are closed and our bodies resting stationary in our beds.  Sometimes the worlds we create are simple, and other times elaborate; sometimes they are familiar to our waking world, and sometimes they are not. 

In our dreams there are often other people/characters and all of them are apparently animated independently of our perspective as the dreamer (that which is aware of the dream).  The thoughts of the other people (and creatures) within the dreams are unknown to us.  So while we dream, we are creating fully animated characters (such as our partner, co-workers, strangers, etc), and yet still we are not aware of what these characters are thinking and experiencing.  Said another way: Every character, all the laws of physics, of time, the story line, etc, are all of our own imagination as the dreamer of the dream, and within the dream we remain limited to the singular, personal perspective of our experience of the dream.

If we turn the experience of dreaming into a metaphor, you the dreamer are awareness.  As awareness (the dreamer), you are that that is aware of the dream and within which the dream appears.  As the dreamer/awareness, "you" are quite convincingly imagining an entire world and the people within it… and yet you still do not know what the other people within the dream are thinking and feeling.  So now you can see that it is not strange that as awareness, "your" mind and body do not see the thoughts and feelings of others.  After all, as a dreamer, we create every character and yet only know the perspective of one -- our character in the dream! 

In this analogy (and it is only an analogy), the mind/body that you are familiar with is just an appearance, an appearance like every other character in the dream and while in the dream you sometimes believe you are the character, yet when awake you know that character was simply an appearance (and is thus not "you").  As an "expression" of awareness, it is only one version of experiencing... but it is still a manifestation of the dreamer, of that that is aware of the character and that that is the "creator" of everything within the dream.

Your question is from the mind's perspective, a view that effectively sees "awareness" as an object that knows other objects independent and separate from each other.   In the spiritual context that the word "awareness" is often used, it is intended to mean that that knows the experiencing of all objects, and thus that that "knows" the tree, the wind, the sound of the car horn, the thoughts, the body, etc.

As a dreamer you wake and easily understand that the dream is not real in any absolute sense... and similarly, when one wakes spiritually, it is no different: there is simply no longer a belief in the absolute reality of the "waking" life and while you continue to live as you always have, the "you" that was once believed in is no longer seen as concrete or separate from any other object that appears within the field of experiencing (and thus differs only in appearance from the "others" that your question refers to).  And just like the dream, all reference points are seen as simply appearances and thus are no longer have any separate and independent significance.

And while we are in the deep end here, let's push the metaphor a bit farther:  Oneness, metaphorically speaking, could be "defined" as that that every "thing" arises within (including awareness, or within this metaphor, including the dreamer of the dream).  

Don't attempt to translate all of this with your mind... let yourself be drawn into it... let yourself feel the open space the shows up when you step back, back, and even farther "back" into the emptiness of the implications of the metaphor. . .

The "me" that you think you are is just a thought. 

You are aware of your thoughts and thus "you" must be "before" your mind, before the "me" that you think yourself to be.

Who are you?  What are you? 

Are you simply your mind and body... or are you that that is aware of your mind and body? 

Or are you before even that?!

Trust your curiosity.  Trust your process. 

Let yourself be the knowing.

Q: Are the teachers playing a semantics game?

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Yosemite National Park, CA

"I've heard many teachers say that there is no path... But it certainly seems like there is one.  I've had the "spirituality" bug for many years and it feels like I am deepening my understanding through my meditation practice and continued exploration.  Are the teachers just playing a semantics game?

If we move our attention away from the words that frame the question and let our attention be with the pointer itself, the answer is more easily experienced.  This is true for all pointers.   It is the mind's insistence with the question that blinds us.  

All pointers point in the same “direction.”  For instance, consider:

“There is no path.”  “You are what you seek.”  “There is nothing to get.”   “You are that.”   Etc.   Each of these (like everything!) point in the same direction.

Pointers are not a semantic game (although they can be quite playful! ).   Misunderstanding is the mind's effort to parse the words or attempt to translate them.

Consider taking pointers literally.   Literally.  

"There is no path."   When our mind explores the possibility that that means exactly what it says, the mind quickly runs into a wall:  No path means.... gulp.... It means I am already here.   No path means no place to go.  It means that there never was any path and thus never any place to go (or understand).   I am here... and with no "there" (the logical conclusion of "no place to go") then there can be no other (thus I am one).   And so on.   The mind quickly loses itself... it begins to "fall apart" because "it" can no longer believe in “itself" and it loses its "reality" (and thus rendering "reality" meaningless).

It is not an intellectual understanding that is being pointed to.  Nor is it an experience that is being encouraged (although an understanding may appear in experiencing).

"You are what you seek."  How can that be?   How could such a simple statement know what I seek?   Yet if we again consider it literally, our mind inevitably runs into the same wall as before.   The pointer states that no matter what it is that we seek, we are that.  The mind tries to make sense of it and perhaps plays with possibilities:  I am seeking happiness: I am that.  I am seeking an intimate relationship: I am that.   I want to awaken: I am that.  Try as it might, the mind gets nowhere.  Ok.... How about: I am the tree?   I am that.   I am every thing.  What I seek I am.  I am no other.  No thing.  I am.  (and then perhaps silence is heard)

The mind dead-ends every time it directly considers any good pointer.  And that dear reader, is exactly the point.   The dead end is the answer itself.  The mind falls away.   If we take any pointer seriously, it exhausts the mind, it takes the thinking to the limit of understanding and Poof! the mind collapses, gives up (if only for a moment).  

You are that.  You are that that that isn't and thus that that that is everything.

Pointers are not nonsensical.   Good pointers are as direct as language allows.   The mind insists that there must be a way to understand what is being pointed to... and it thus misses it entirely (and thereby “creating” the separate self). There is nothing for the mind to get and thus nothing for it to understand.   There is no mind to "get" anything.  How could something that isn't real "get" reality?  The mind appears within that which it attempts to understand.  The mind is just a thought and thus just an appearance.  As an appearance, it can be convincing, yet we only know it through the experiencing of this moment... and this moment... and this moment.   (and even that is just a conceptualization)

The danger of any “answer" to a question is that it can inadvertently feed a belief in the mind (the apparent separate self).   Said another way: If the answer doesn’t fall away with the question, then the answer maintains the illusion in the question itself.  Or, in the words of the wonderfully impenetrable UG Krishnamurti: “All questions are born out of the answers that you already know.”  (you need know no more)

There is nothing wrong with the mind... or in believing in its "reality".  Yet for no apparent reason, some beings are expressed with a curiosity, an apparent pull to know another (possibly deeper) "truth".   But be clear: When it is believed that a description of a truth is truth itself, then it is demonstrated that that truth is misunderstood.   It is from that perspective that the pointers offers their utility: they are just a pointing.  They are no more true than the green men hiding in your bath water.... and yet, quite mysteriously, a pointer may resonate (or at least tickle curiosity) and perhaps even appear to play a role in the appearance of understanding.      

By definition, as seekers we are waiting for the discovery that will change our lives forever... and we thus ignore our teachers who have consistently reminded us of the impossibility of such efforts. 

Let a curiosity grow, let an understanding blossom that knows that there is nothing to get, that this is it, that no path is necessary, and "then", quite inexplicably, the questions may fall away.

Until then (this now!), let the striving... or curiosity pull you forward.  This word.  The next word.  None of them matter... and yet... they continue to show up and reading appears to happen....

It may be useful to admit that there may be a tacit belief that if we continue reading, maybe then we will understand, that maybe within this post, or maybe within the next, we will discover the jewel that we are seeking, that defining moment that will lead to our awakening (or perhaps another one).  “I” will “awaken” when “I” understand.  (How crazy is that?!)

Don't mistaken this as an argument that we should not read or listen to teachings that resonate with our system.   By all means, do.   As Ramana said, teachings are the thorn that is used to remove a thorn... and then both thorns are discarded.

What are you seeking?  Pause for a moment.   Consider it.  

When you pause, there is a movement of silence.  Of emptiness.  Of completeness.   THAT is what you are seeking.  HERE.  Now.

What are you seeking?

The mind tells us "No.  It can't be that."   And then we hear it continue: "That silence is nothing.  It is insignificant.  It's so common.  It's nothing".  …And then we may notice the familiarity of those words.  Oh my god!  That can't be it!   It can't be that simple.  It can't be.   It can't.  And maybe a smile appears within the experiencing.  A knowing.  Yes.  Yes.  Yes.   How ridiculous.  How simple.  How insignificant.  Ha!

Why not simply Be?  After all, try as you might, you can't avoid it; It is all that you are.  Nothing more.  

Nothing.  No thing.  Nothing and thus everything.  This.  This.  And this.  (And, of course, that that as well)

As seekers, as that sense, as that thought that demands that we are separate from the experiencing, as that individual that we believe ourselves to be, we remain committed to ignoring the silence, the emptiness, the nothingness that all experiencing emanates "from".  ("Silence" does not mean no sound.  It is simply the immediacy of experiencing.   Sound or not-sound have no meaning in the immediacy of experiencing.)

As a seeker, what is being pointed to is "other" and "later" and it is through that (apparent) belief that we remain under the illusion that we are on a path to understanding.  That sense of “I am almost there” nags us, cajoles us into waiting for the perfect moment to “let go”.  That sense of "me" is believed to be real, to be substantial.

What are you seeking?

Pause.

What's the rush? 

Why must you read on?   What is it that pulls you forward?   Consider that. 

Let quietness be.

(Even if it is ignored, it is here)

Is it that pull, that belief that there is something more than THIS?   The seeker in us may read these words as admonishments... yet even while we do, within them we know there is something deeply important, strangely familiar.  Even within our efforting there is something that knows... there is "something" that is knowing the resistance.

You are that knowing.  You are the destination.  

(How could that be?  And what is this "you" that it is referring to?)

------

Close your eyes.

What is it that knows the eyes are closed?

What is it that knows that knowing?

"You" know the knowing.

There is knowing and nothing more.

Nothing is known.  There is simply knowing.  And you are that.  

(If I am that, then I am this.   Always this.  And that is simply this, this knowing of that.)

Every path, every practice, every effort is this and this is simply knowing.  I am this knowing.  (Adding "... and I am nothing more" would be redundant... and, of course, I am that too.)  

A seeker seeks experience.  Knowing is all that "is" and an experience is simply a knowing of that knowing, an apparent thought patterning that attempts to cage reality in the illusion of time.   (And understanding takes no issue with it)

You are what you seek.

You are here.

(Where else could you be?)

Enjoy the journey.

You are always here.

And always have been.

Always will be.

Always are.

This.

Q: I understand all the teaching intellectually, but it doesn't seem to make a difference.

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Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes, Death Valley, CA

I understand all the teaching intellectually, but it doesn't seem to make a difference. 

I continue to read and listen to talks, but I'm not learning anything new.  It all seems to be a bit of a hoax.

Should I give up?

It is the mind that is claiming understanding. 

Do you really feel like you understand or is it more true to say that the "intellectual" understanding is a bit hollow and that it is more a rote memorization than it is a deep knowing?   I don't mean to be insulting here; I am simply offering that it is possible that in your question there is a question that is not being asked.

One plus one equals two.  Do you intellectually understand this or do you simply know it?  Do you have any doubt about it?  Can you maintain a meaningful conversation about the possibility that it is not true?  

When we know something it is very simple; We just know it.  It doesn't require faith or even trust.  It is known.  Period.

Is your understanding of the teachings as clear as your knowing of the wetness of water?  Is it the same as knowing the redness of ketchup?  Is it the same clarity as the sound of a door closing or a baby crying?

Do you understand the teachings or is it simply that your mind (thought) is making a claim, a claim that you do not experientially relate to, and thus that you do not actually believe?

These questions are important.  They can help us understand that the mind is really quite superficial (albeit, convincing at times).   When we know something, we know it.  It is simple.  It is not intellectual.  It's not of the mind.  It is simple knowing.

I know I woke this morning.  I don't know how I know it, but I know it.  It's not my mind that knows, it is simply known.  No thoughts are necessary to confirm it.

Spiritual teachings are not meant to be understood by the mind - after all (ultimately) they all point to the recognition that the mind is "not real" and that it is simply an appearance no different than any other. 

Attempting to convince the mind that it is not real is like trying to convince a monster that is under the bed that it is not big and scary.  All such efforts simply support the belief in its existence.

Let's explore a few basic non-dual concepts and let ourselves experience our mind's reaction to them. (... and yes, you may note how we are forced to talk with the monster here, a humorous concession that language demands)

"Time is not real.  Time is just a thought."

The implications of those two sentences are staggering.  When their truth is fully known, EVERY THING crumbles.  Nothing, absolutely nothing holds together any more.  Game over.

And yet… and yet the mind claims understanding.  Ridiculous!   True understanding would completely destroy the mind and any claims a "mind" might make would carry no import. 

We can say "Yes, I can only experience what is happening now.  Of course the past and the future can't be experienced in the immediacy of the now.  Everything happens now and thus time doesn't exist"... But do we actually believe those words?  If we don't believe them, then what do we believe and do we believe it for certain?

So explore your question.  What are you really wanting to ask (or to see)?   Are you curious about why you can quote your teachers and yet you feel very little understanding?   Do you feel understanding, yet somehow it is illusive?  Do you hear the non-dual phrases and something rises… yet doesn't quite sit true?  Are you wanting a deeper exploration or perhaps support in your own process?  Etc. 

For many, the questions that rise can be useful in that they can shed light into a "process" that is wanting resolution and understanding.  Ultimately, all answers are known... but quite magically, until this is seen, the answer appears external and separate from the question.  The "mind" is masterful in maintaining its inconsistent world view and it could be argued that the spiritual process is about slowly exhausting or disassembling the belief in the mind.

Let's look at another couple statements:

"You are not your mind or body.  The "I" concept is just a thought."

Everything crumbles when these sentences are understood.  The world as we know it ceases to exist (and yet, nothing changes).  How could anything survive the absence of an observer, when an "I" no longer exists?  And for that matter, how could an "I" possibly understand this? 

Without any belief in time or in a "me" (without a past or future, or anyone to experience it)  then it is not possible to maintain the experience of suffering.  Knowing this helps us understand that if there is suffering, then the belief in a "me" must still be "present".  It is not about creating a new belief (a belief in "no-time" or "no-me", etc), but instead it is to recognize and question the false beliefs (that is, all beliefs).

Non-understanding is simply an apparent maintenance of the belief in the mind. 

With understanding, it is seen that there is nothing to understand…. And yet again, the mind may seem to step in and claim understanding… or not.  The understanding that is being pointed to is not for the mind.  It is not for the monster under the bed (nor for the purple elephant on the moon).  It is simply understanding.  And there is no one to understand.  No teaching is intended for the "me" and thus trying to "intellectually" grasp it is at best an exercise in futility.

It is easy to hear teachings and to take them into the mind and to add them to our "knowledge".  This is what minds do.  It is not problem... yet when we believe in the mind, understanding is obscured. 

Being is.  How could it be otherwise?  "Ignorance" can't change this.  Knowing simply knows this.  Both are just appearances.  Neither exist is any real sense.

At some point, as seekers we begin to question the usefulness of the mind's tendencies and we may then begin to notice other ways of experiencing... and perhaps the words of the sages will become more intimate, more familiar (and also wonderfully inadequate).

When our intellectual understanding is no longer satisfying, a doorway opens.   No one walks through it.  Understand that and the mind is no longer a problem.  Nor is intellectual understanding.  Or the color of a tree. 

Insist on the mind's ability to understand and suffering is the inevitable result.  In fact, suffering is mind, mind is suffering.   But heck, we could also say: Separation is mind, Time is mind, "I" am mind, Every thing is mind.  Etc.

If mind is thought, what thought is worth holding on to?  What thought is unequivocally, unconditionally, and always true?  If your answer is "None", then isn't it a bit unconvincing to maintain a belief in thoughts?   If it's possible that no thought is true then...  

Let yourself consider that.  Let yourself know that.  Let yourself be that.

Let the door open.

What is wanting to be seen?

You already know.  Let yourself see this.

If you let go of your beliefs… Will you still exist?

Is it possible to be at ease without a belief in the mind?

Are you certain that you don't already know?

What if it was as simple as breathing?

Did you wake this morning?

Are you awake now? 

How do you know?

Q: Why should I bother with the spiritual search?

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Badwater Road, Death Valley, CA

I have been going to satsang for many, many years and I have read more than 100 books on spirituality and yet I often wonder why I bother.  Sometimes I get some relief through the spiritual community, but mostly it seems more a way to spend time than it is useful.  

Why should I bother with the spiritual search?

Well… why bother indeed?   But try "stopping".

Long ago I read that when you begin a spiritual journey, there's no turning back.

At the time I thought it meant that you shouldn't begin the journey unless you were willing to really commit to it.  Eventually I discovered that it instead meant that even if you do "turn back", what you learned will forever light your life (however dim it may appear).

For some, the "process" takes such a hold of them that they no longer can turn back.  There is an experience that can range from the quiet... to the ferocious and it can appear as if it is grabbing the ego (the "me") and slowly devouring it, one subtle (or not so subtle!) bite at a time.

I'm not a big fan of "reasons" or of definitive will.  You are asking a question, expressing a doubt.  To me that suggests that it's too late;  You're already hooked.

By definition, a seeker is seeking some thing.  Some seek relationships, power, stability, or wealth (etc).  Eventually some may begin to seek relief from the inevitable disappointments and that often leads to the beginning of what is commonly called the "spiritual search".

Some spiritual seekers might say they are seeking understanding or even "enlightenment".  Others simply to ease suffering and still others may have no idea why they are seekers.  Many may be on the quest in an effort to re-live past experiences, perhaps had at some distant retreat or during a moment of meditation.  Yet regardless, all seekers are seeking, seeking some thing.  And no matter how many times they read that what they seek can't be found, most misunderstand those words.

We could say that all the seeking is simply an inner knowing returning to the light of conscious being.  We could call it a dance.  We could call it a game.  We could call it a conceptual potpourri.  It doesn't matter what we call it… maybe calling it "curiosity" is enough.  For some, this "search" happens with little efforts, for others it is effort full.

If you find yourself bored with the whole conversation, then trust that.  Trust it.  Perhaps walk away.  Or turn somewhere else.  Maybe all the words in the books and talks are no longer necessary.  Maybe a break is necessary.  Maybe your own knowing needs to stew.  Maybe you need to reinterpret what you have heard, this time with less mind and more heart.  Or maybe the frustration you experience is necessary and through the haze of it, it is already guiding you.

As unsatisfying as this may sound, you will do whatever it is … well, whatever it is that you will do.  All paths are direct.  They really are.  (... and when that makes sense, laughter will likely appear.)

There is no right way.  There is no way.  None.  This is it.  When we stop trying to find a way and discover that the current "movement" is enough, the world begins to crumble.

You asked the question - so clearly there is a curiosity.   What is that curiosity?   What is wanting to be seen?   Where is the question coming from?  Where is seeking coming from?  Is the question really the question you are wanting to ask? 

As seekers, we reject what is being pointed to.   It is this rejection that maintains the appearance of the apparent separate self.   And while that may seem to be nonsensical (or circular), can you really refute that you already are? 

Being is all that is know.  So why not be what you know?

As seekers we say "I" want to understand and quite bizarrely we don't recognize that it is the maintenance of the the "I" that "prevents" understanding.  Somehow we believe that this conceptual "I" (the "me" thought) can know something. 

Can the word "rock" know something?   How about the word "pink"?  Or the word "yes"?  How about the word "me"?

There is no "I" that can understand (and therefore, of course, no understanding). 

"I" can't understand this.

Misunderstanding isn't different than understanding (they both are just appearances).

No one knows.  There is just knowing.

There is nothing to understand. 

And no one to understand.

These are not just words. 

(And yet they are.)

Give up.  Let go.

Be.  Just be.

It's that simple.

——

Or if you prefer:

Kick off your shoes.
Dance the Dance. 

Or leave them on.

Either way,
You are the Dance.

Q: Should I practice repeatedly moving my attention away from thought, and instead focus it on what I can sense and perceive in the current moment?

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The Pacific Ocean off the northern coast of Washington

Should I practice repeatedly moving my attention away from thought, and instead focus it on what I can sense and perceive in the current moment?

When thought is no longer believed to be substantial and independent, then the need to do anything with it no longer arises.  When thought is recognized as simply an appearance, an appearance no different than the rock beside the road or the blue hue of a passing car, it looses its import and the fixation drops away.

Moving the attention from one object to another can be useful when fixation is the current belief.  Thought, by its nature, can be very convincing and the stories that play often trap the apparent separate self in the conceptual world of the mind.  And trying to pretend it is not believed is itself just another belief (thought) that will maintain the weight that thinking carries.

Moving the attention to what we sense and perceive can break the hold of the thought patterns, and can initially be quite useful in mitigating the obsessive nature of thinking… but it too can trap the separate self through a more subtle form of object worshiping.  As seekers, this practice can weaken the belief in the certainty of the mind, yet in time, one begins to consider it usefulness.

If we look at thoughts a bit more closely, we discover that they are a more magical than intentional and we see that they just appear of their own accord, quite like the ephemeral images that stream past as we drive along the road.

The common belief is that we author thoughts and thus control them, but that belief is really kind of silly based upon our experience. 

For instance, I can now put the word "elephant" in your head simply by writing it. 

And it's easy to do the same without even uttering the word:   "Row, row, row your ____". 

If I asked you to only think about the chair you are sitting on for the next ten minutes, very quickly you would realize the impossibility of such a request.  

And if you controlled your thoughts, then what will your next thought be?

If you look back at the thoughts that passed through your consciousness as you read the last few sentences, how many did you author?  What does it even mean to "author" something?  Isn't "authorship" itself just another concept, another thought?  And if you authored the thought, what authored the thought that authored the next thought?

The ownership that we take for thought is just a thought.  

Close your eyes for about a second.   Now close them again for a second.  How much control did you have over your thoughts the first time your closed your eyes?  And the second time?  How different were the thoughts between each activity?  Did a thought even appear?  Etc.

We hold on to or push away thoughts when we believe them.  Or coming at it another way: How often do you push away image of the gray tile in the lobby of your office?  How much effort does it take to let pass the noticing of third door down the hall when you walk past it?  When you reach for your socks in the morning, do you spend the rest of the day considering where they were located in the drawer?  Each of those is actually a thought, but because we rarely give them significance, you might overlook that fact.

We fixate only on the thoughts we believe to be significant.  When thoughts are no longer significant, they carry no weight and thus are no longer avoided or worshiped (and thus not "in the way").  They then are seen to appear.  Period.  I could also say they disappear, but in fact a thought appears... and another thought may appear noting the "previous thought" is no longer here.  Nothing really happens.  It's just a thought that suggests something "happened".

In the Zen tradition, the appearances are sometimes compared to the wind passing through the leaves of a tree.  Why bother noting a particular "piece" of wind (thought) as it passes? 

As I write this, there is no experience of authorship.  There is no thinking.  The words simply appear.  I don't know how they do or why.  To explore their origin would take effort and it's known that the effort itself would become the author of their "origin".  But why bother?  The next sentence will appear.  Or it won't.   I can be ok with this unknown or I can not be ok with it.  Why would it matter?  Being ok is just another thought appearing.  Being not ok is just another thought appearing.  Why give them significance?  And even if they took on significance, wouldn't that too be just what is appearing?

So when we understand the unsubstantial nature of thought, that is, when we discover that thought is not personal, not personal at all, it is no longer of significance and it falls away just as it appears.  We also see that putting our attention on "the current moment" is no different than fixating on thought (or a rock, for that matter) and the "current moment" ceases to exist as well.

For some, what is being said here is all a bit abstract.  If it doesn't resonate, that's ok - move on and read something that feels more true to you.  There is no "right" way, so trust your own inclinations.

If what is being said resonates, let yourself explore it.  Trust the curiosity.

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Writing about spirituality is really a very absurd venture.  It's not possible to illuminate what is being pointed to.  Language requires the subject-object model and thus a duality that by its nature supports a belief in itself.   And yet the words appear.

In the end, silence feels more true.