Vacationing in Hawaii recently left me in a state of such ease. I had one especially lovely morning on the deck of our little bungalow in Haiku where the sheer beauty of the place, the raucous birdsong and the light, ah the light, lulled me into a kind of meditative state. Once there I felt completely present, totally alive, and immensely full. Then I noticed an itch on my scalp and the thought arose, “Oh, there’s Ernie!”
Archives
- November 2020
- July 2020
- May 2020
- December 2016
- April 2015
- September 2014
- August 2014
- February 2014
- January 2014
- June 2012
- January 2010
- April 2009
- January 2009
- August 2008
- June 2008
- April 2008
- December 2007
- September 2007
- August 2007
- July 2007
- May 2007
- April 2007
- March 2007
- February 2007
- January 2007
Categories
Pages
I love the simplicity of where you are pointing at Ernie. Thank you.
I have some thoughts that point at something I would like to share. It unfortunately is a little word heavy but I hope it stimulates our curiosity together.
The Empty Silent Space of Not-Knowing
I am so reluctant to say one word. I am so cautious to give an opinion. All thoughts, ideas, teachings interfere and miss, by lengths immeasurable, what is.
There is this moment, so alive and “free from thought”. If that be true, how can thought explain what this moment is? If that be truth, where is the place of the teacher or guide in this moment where thought does not see nor can it comprehend?
Take a breath in. Who can teach to you what that is? That is yours, so unique and fresh. That breath is our teacher. Who needs to go to endless workshops and seminars and hear thoughts that miss when you have this breath to teach you?
It is impossible for someone to know this alive moment just because of past experiences and knowledge accumulated. This moment is beyond yesterday’s experience and knowledge. This moment has a once in a life time pulse. It is like someone’s, one of a kind fingerprint, appearing and then it’s gone. It is so uniquely fresh, and always here right now. It is not defined or constrained within someone’s spiritual history and thoughts. All of that gets in the way. It doesn’t live there.
Maybe that is why Chuang Tzu said:
The unconsciousness
And the entire sincerity of Tao
Are disturbed by any effort
At self-conscious demonstrations
All such demonstrations
Are lies
A pretty humbling statement to receive from Chuang Tzu. It appears to me that he is saying that any efforts to try and understand or explain the Tao (this moment) through thoughts and words (self-conscious demonstrations) actually interferes with experiencing this alive moment. It misses it. What are we to do with this instruction from Chuang Tzu since we are a people that have thoughts and express with words?
Is it possible that one’s own spiritual knowledge, even if it is truth, can interfere with walking in union with this alive fresh moment that is here? Does one’s spiritual knowledge help experience the Tao or can it interfere? If it interferes, is one that has knowledge more close or distant from this moment than a child that has no knowledge?
What happens to an individual that obtains wisdom and knowledge? A Christian saint once said, “knowledge puffs up”, implying an arrogance or over confidence occurs. An over reliance on what one knows takes place as if yesterdays knowledge can help navigate oneself through this present now moment. Maybe that is why Jesus said, “You must become like a child to enter into the kingdom of God”. Have you ever looked into a child’s eyes and witnessed that humble innocent openness and curious inquiry they possess as they approach each moment? They inherently know that they don’t know so they have the extraordinary capacity to find out. As they approach each moment they have no bias formulated because of accumulated knowledge. They do not interpret what they are facing with their minds history. For some reason that humble innocent open attitude and ability to receive what is, leaves as human beings get filled to the brim with knowledge and think they know something. Could that same deteriorating process take place within our own spiritual paths? We have heard of physical diseases that could put an end to life. Is there a spiritual disease that does the same?
Lao Tzu said:
The ancient Masters
didn’t try to educate the people.
but kindly taught them to not-know
When they think they know the answers
People are difficult to guide.
When they know they don’t know, people can find their own way.
And…..
Not Knowing is true knowledge
Presuming to know is a disease.
First realize that you are sick;
then you can move towards health
The Master is her own physician.
She has healed herself of all knowing
Thus she is truly whole.
Is this attitude of “not knowing” what Jesus was pointing at when he said you must be like a child to enter in? How do we approach this moment? Do we bring our spiritual opinions in based upon some history we have with each moment? Is that how we interpret and navigate through each life’s experience we encounter? Do we spiritually grade and measure ourselves as if yesterdays accumulated knowledge makes us more aware and in touch today? Do we approach this moment with a knowing or a not-knowing attitude. How about a teaching that points us in the direction of not-knowing? An emptying of one’s knowledge instead of teaching knowledge. One that leads each step that we take, each breath that we breathe, to live through the curious eyes of a child so alertly being in that receptive state of not-knowing. To always have that extraordinary capacity to be open to life’s fresh moments. To live in the empty space of not-knowing.
As we all discard our knowledge and spiritual measuring sticks on who we think we are, and humbly sit together in this empty silent space of not-knowing, there isn’t one person more enlightened than another. That illusion that so often accompanies spirituality disappears and vanishes. Only in the world of thought does that spiritual separation appear. It does not occur in this empty silent space of not-knowing. Only this moment appears. Only this breath.
Mark
I like what you said, Mark, re: “When they know they don’t know, people can find their own way.” I’m often amazed at how “wise” I think people are because they have found their own way… they may say something that totally surprises me. I remember when Dave (the love of my life who passed away) & I were on a mountain & there was a “Pathfinder” (car) & he said, “…a pathfinder, like me” & I was soo surprised! “You?”, I said? You’re looking for a path?” & he said, “yes…” I was shocked! Here was this person who knew everything & was so loving & kind & grounded! But he taught me something in that moment… life is a journey…(trite, perhaps) but I have to say I’m beginning to feel peace in enjoying finding my path, whatever that is, or perhaps just the journey, which he taught me… He loved nature & hiking & I loved going with him because we would always take our time (fortunately for me) looking & trying to identify trees, flowers, birds, finding birds’ nests… sooo much fun! Other hikers would have gone & come back when we were still “going” & we would smile about how much they may have missed along the way… he always stopped to notice what was going on right then, whether it was my cat, a bird in a parking lot, his grandson outside playing… mmm… forgive my memory sharing…
Forgive my memory sharing? What beautiful thoughts are in your memory Bd. Thank you for sharing with me (and us) about Dave, the love of your life. When my mother passed away over twenty years ago, initially my memory was painful thoughts of missing her. Then, after time lapsed, the memory of her turned to joy. I smile in my heart when I think of her now. It seems that you are having a similar smiling heart when you think of Dave. I am sure you still miss him like I miss my mother but joy is now present.
Your splendid delightful thoughts have caused me to back off a little on my sometimes “stressing the point” dialogue. Memory, in itself is not a problem. And as you articulate so well, knowledge in itself is not a problem either.
It is what we do with it. We want to feel like there is something underneath our feet. Living with an attitude of not knowing can lead to feelings and thoughts as if you are two steps over the cliff and falling. There is nothing underneath our feet. So we want to feel safe by building an identity like foundation under our feet. This is where religious beliefs come into play and make such a terrific foundation and safe place to stand on. You might be insane but you also can feel quite safe and secure. So thinking that you know something is similar. It falls into a belief system of building a safe foundation. Ah, I know something now and feel safe because of it. I think I get it now. Or, I get it. This foundation building can get quite thick and as hard as concrete. Sometimes I feel like a master mason at it. Thank the heavens for crisis (the sledge hammer).
So why is there this feeling of not a safe place unless we think we know something?
Mark
My answer to your Q: because we humans want that security… but you are, for me, pointing at that ever-lovely time in our lives where we experience a real “letting go” & it is so freeing… Christian writings often talk about the bird leaving the nest, although being a birder, it’s a little more complicated… the Moma & sometimes the Daddy bird take months showing the babies where to go & what to trust, not trust… I’ve followed them in my own yard… truly incredible… so even the birds of the air are “taught” & so be it… the earthly experience… “knowing” is security but not knowing (when I’ve just trusted) has been exhilarating… but I keep going back to “wanting to know”… why, I don’t really know… interesting Q… thinking about it…
Thank you BD. I am resting peacefully with the words you just shared.
I suppose if we were able to answer the question we would know something 🙂
Mark
I’ve been out of town for a family wedding (would you believe Las Vegas!), so haven’t had a chance to reply to the comments until now.
Thank you, Mark for your comments and for the opportunity to shed light on such things as the utility of words and “teachers”. And thank you, bd, for your fresh, lively way of being and the delightful story about Dave.
I don’t consider myself to have any authority or to be a “spiritual person”. Holly & I joke that she once asked me to help weed out our yard and I said in jest, “You can’t ask a spiritual person to weed a yard!” To which she replied, “I didn’t.”… But I do love to talk about what I see and to offer this one ordinary life (see Introduction) as evidence that it is possible for regular people, conditioned western minds who have made terrible mistakes in life and who continue to be challenged, to live at least occasionally beyond the psychological “me”. I am pointing to something that I believe others can see and experience. So here’s my take on words as a working hypothesis today…
• I believe words are only helpful in understanding ourselves if we use them to point to something real. So, to have a fruitful conversation with someone, we’d have to both be looking in the same direction and trying to describe what we actually see. The words you use may be wildly different from the ones I use. What would be important in such a conversation would be what we are watching together, not the words. And because words are part of thought, it is easy, even natural, to make assumptions about meaning, about one’s motives or identity with the words. You can see the trap of trying to describe the self and its tricks using the self’s own primary mode of expression. It requires a great sense of forbearance to listen to another and seek out what truth is there amidst the always feeble attempt with words. Music and other non-verbal expressions would be much better I think. But we’re humans wired for language and I believe we also can use that faculty to communicate about this.
• There is such an unholy assertion of authority in the world, and every corner of human activity and interest is painted over with it. Anyone trying to use words in this area of human life is easily tainted with it, whether it is so or not. This is probably especially true in western culture, where thought is so vaunted as supreme. Thought creates divisions and authority, imaginary lines and levels. Most of us have gotten caught up in it at one time or another and it’s a shame. I remember a talk by _?_ in San Francisco years ago who made this point by referring to the grid of SF city streets and while standing at the beach, gesturing at the sea, said something like, “You see, the mind makes lines, but life is wiggly!” Oh.
• So what can we talk about? In your 1st comment, Mark, you described how what’s actual in the moment is new, fresh, real, and indescribable, and how words are woefully inadequate to touch it and that a mind can’t hold it. I agree fully. On the other hand, what blocks someone from accessing the mysterious moment is not so fresh at all, but rather is just the past, memory, and knowledge – consistent, automatic, mechanical, often destructive and certainly sneaky. This is true, as you say, whether such mechanistic movement is believed by someone to be ‘spiritual’ or mundane. What I think I “know” won’t help me see even that, and indeed may blind me.
I believe that we can speak with any accuracy only about the latter – the machinations of the ‘me’ – and even that is daunting. The self, the psychological movement of thought, can be seen and described. I think of the process as empirical in the sense that I can watch and learn about it as I watch it (actually I’d say that in the seeing, it disappears). It isn’t a process of gaining knowledge but of immediate perception. The utility of pointing at the self or its tricks is like someone saying, “Look, there’s a tsunami coming, get to high ground!” He isn’t setting himself above anyone, only warning of a danger he sees. It’s perfectly natural for him to do so. We wouldn’t consider him a teacher, but we might pay attention and look for ourselves! The dangers of the self-run-amok are all around us. We ought to warn one another. Where there’s openness, we can relate to one another about it and check things out for ourselves, bring attention to it.
Krishnamurti asked an audience once how they could tell whether he was telling them the truth or not. After much discussion, the answer was we’d have to have our own direct perception. This makes the point both that there is no authority, and that there is something we can see for ourselves. So it seems to me I can’t ‘become’ innocent, but I can nail arrogance for what it is: thought claiming for itself the center of human life. Then the window is open for something else…
• I also think we can share our experiences with one another – what happened to us, what if felt like and how we sense it changed us. This is a uniquely human enterprise. But these sharings are just smoke trails following an event, not the thing itself, and have no use to anyone else as fact, but only as someone’s experience. The words can never be the thing and are always a lie in the sense of being puny and after the fact, or feeble attempts to describe the indescribable. Still, like a Rumi poem or Beethoven symphony, expressions can be lovely creations in themselves. Though they are inherently inadequate to capture the movement of life, they serve to point (well or ill) to something available but usually unseen. I believe the sayings or writings of people like Jesus, the Buddha, and Jiddu Krishnamurti are like this. They all point to something similar – the workings of the self – and invite us to inquire into our beings what may lie beyond. I’m grateful that they do so.
• And then there is the Other. Life is a wonder and mystery which cannot be touched with words at all, though we all try and fail. It isn’t something I can ‘get’, like a prize. Pointing to the Mystery is useless if a listener has blinders on, and is unnecessary if she does not. Indeed, as Mark insists, the only sane approach is to assume nothing, know nothing. Whatever I think I know is useless in the face of it. Perception reigns here. Nothing that happened yesterday can help me today, nor prevent me from being fully alive. I must dissolve, and be glad to do so.
So, alas, all of this is words, a long and clumsy attempt, subject to misinterpretation and unintended nuance. But if we have affection for one another, something lovely may come of the exchange.
(I think the subject matter is important so I may post this as a blog entry with a little editing.)
I’m sharing this because of what you said, “What would be important in such a conversation would be what we are watching together, not the words.” I’m back to my memories of Dave’s & my experiences together in nature… watching a deer (v-e-r-y quietly), watching a fox, an owl, a mother bird sitting on a nest… we’d just be standing there together in total peace, excitement & joy… you’re right, totally indescribable in words… (I love him & miss him so much because of what we shared & how we shared it… tears stinging eyes, now…) hug a tree…
Bd, I know how much you miss Dave and his great, easy way of being. I loved him too, as you know. The tears seem so natural – he was lovely to be with.
I wonder if what you were able to experience with Dave is what you still long for – that delicious freedom and peace in just being attentive, alive, watching nature from an empty space inside. For me, holding to past experiences, however lovely, keeps me from being fully alive now, where there’s light and color everywhere, gorgeous faces, animals, the sweep of wind and rain and bright sunshine, even the shenanigans of others or myself. What a view!
Even tho I have Holly in my life, most often when I am empty and watching life’s beauty, listening to music or out in nature, I’m alone or can’t really express to whoever I’m with what is happening. Yet I don’t feel lonely.
What’s beautiful to me about your experiences with Dave is that you were able to feel the openness of your heart and let the world in! Dave is gone, but that ain’t over…
Love,
EC
Hi Bd,
I know you love bird stories. Here Is another signpost that is pointing at a different star in the sky.
A poem by Rumi
There is a strange frenzy in my head,
Of birds flying,
Each particle circulating on its own
Is the one I love everywhere?
Have a wonderful day Bd.
Mark
Thank you both for standing on each side of me & pointing & looking with me… mmm… my heart feels full & maybe a little scared… (those little stinging tears agin…)
Hi Bd,
I was thinking of you while reading a poem by Rumi this morning. I can’t help but stress to you that you don’t need to change anything to experience this present moment. Pointing at your anguish and thinking that you need to be free from it to experience presence is not the path to take. No matter what your condition is, it is all-apart of this moment including your anguish. All of your thoughts and emotions are this beautiful present moment. Your tears and memory of Dave is what is. It is in seeing this where peace and freedom can be found. I am not talking about a freedom from your sorrow. I am talking about a freedom of accepting your sorrow. There is nothing to do but rest in this watching.
A Poem by Rumi
No matter we’re in a prison of forgetting
Or enjoying the banquet of wisdom
We are always inside presence
Drunkenly asleep, tenderly awake,
Clouded with grief, laughing like lightening,
Angry at war, quiet with gratitude, we are nothing in this many-mooded world of weather but a single brushstroke down,
speaking of presence.
Rest in this beauty today Bd.
Mark
went to poetry reading today, thanks, Mark, heard your care today…