Desire is fun. It adds zest and juiciness to life. And it is obviously essential for the survival of the species and of us as individuals. (Ordinary experience, evolutionary psychology.)
I can also find that which desire happens within and as, and is “free” of desire in that sense. Through headless experiments, shikantaza, the Big Mind process, or by exploring the sense fields, I find that desire is the play of awakeness itself. When I discover this, it becomes the context for any other exploration of desire.
I am going to shamelessly continue exploring the 101 topics…..
It still comes up for me, so there is obviously more for me to explore and become familiar with, especially throughout my daily life, and writing it down here is a support in that exploration.
Noticing is not dependent on a state.
I can notice (a) all as awakeness, and (b) (some of) how appearances are created, and this can happen within a wide range of states, probably within any state. Reactive emotions, dullness, confusion, sense of I, identification with viewpoints, it doesn’t matter. The noticing can happen with and within any of those.
It is true that it can be easier to notice a and b in some states – for instance states of great stability of attention and great clarity. And the invitation is then to continue noticing as the states continue to change, including into states that appear “unenlightened” to our conventional (and misleading) views.
It can be a fun exploration and game, to notice a and b in what appears the most unenlightened.
I eat something my tongue says is good, and my body feels bad. I keep something for myself, and others notice and keep things to themselves. I try to protect myself through a white lie, and experience stress and tension.
In short, I act on a very limited notion of what is good for me and who I am in the world.
It is much better to be 100% selfish.
When I am completely selfish, I take the bigger picture into account. I think longer term, and in terms of my relationships with others and the wider world. I ask myself, what is really good for me? What will meet my most essential needs? I act in ways that meet my own needs, and also the needs of those around me, and even for the larger social and ecological whole, because I know there is no separation there.
As I get more familiar with allowing experience, as is, as if it will never change (although it always does), and with kindness, I can actively seek out that which is more difficult to allow.
I can bring up the images about the past, future, or present that are most difficult for me, and find familiarity with allowing these images and the emotions triggered by them.
If I feel excluded, one of the questions is how do I exclude myself? And then look at how I exclude myself in my mind, in how I interpret the situation, and also how I exclude myself in a practical, everyday sense.
This comes up now and then in relation to our local spiritual group. It is usually not a big thing, but enough to slightly bother me.
More precisely, I slightly bother myself as an invitation to look a little closer, find what is more honest for me, what feels better, and what is more wise and kind in a practical, everyday sense.
This seems to be a common experience: Following a period of inquiry into a particular theme, the mental patterns may still be there but without the emotionality, and then the habitual mental patterns fade as well.
The familiar and habitual mental patterns are triggered as before, and they often take the form of I/they/life should/shouldn’t… But they are “cold”, the familiar emotional component – of frustration, sadness, anger, hope, hopelessness etc. – is not there anymore. The patterns have been examined sufficiently so there is no “hook” there anymore. It is not possible to act and react as if the thoughts are true. And with time, even the habitual mental patterns fade or are replaced with a little more sanity.
It can mean external simplification, such as cleaning out the closets, getting rid of the second car, reducing obligations and work hours. Or it can mean inner simplification, through simple activities, meditation, or alignment with what is more meaningful in life. And one often leads to and feeds into the other.
For me, the most attractive starting point is clarifying what is meaningful for me. What is most important to me? At the end of my life, how would I have liked it to be? What is my ideal obituary? What does that mean for how I live my life now? How would my ideal day be, down to the small details? How would I like to reprioritize my life? How do I stop myself from doing it? What do I fear may happen? How likely is it? What is more likely? What is the lowest hanging fruit, the easiest place to start? What resource do I have for making these changes? What support, if any, do I need? How can I get that support?
This inevitably leads to changes in my external life. I may decide to do something else for pay, either something that makes more money, or something that is inherently meaningful for me. I may decide to work fewer hours for pay so I can have more time for family, friends, volunteering, or other activities. I may decide to make more money, save, and retire early. I may decide to sell off things I don’t need, and require money and time for upkeep. I may move somewhere else, where I may find more support to do what is more meaningful for me.
Any example of forgiveness is unique in itself. It has its own unique wholeness and pattern.
And there are also shared dynamics there whether it is a forgiveness of myself, others, or life (God, universe, reality).
And behind this is an even more general pattern of “shoulds” and release of “shoulds”, or beliefs and finding what is more honest for me than the initial belief.
And behind this layer is the identification as a “me” and “I”, taking what I am to be this image of a person in the world, or the images of a doer and observer.
As I woke this morning, this question returned to me:
How would it be if I was aware of dreaming while dreaming? What would I do if I could decide the content of my own dreams? Would my choices change over time?
Most of us would probably first go for our “dream” life. All our goals met. Our wishes fulfilled. Perhaps an easy and interesting life, in a house at a nice location, with some travel, and shared with good friends and family.
It would get predictable and slightly boring after a while, so why not add unpredictability, surprise, and some challenges? It would helps us stay alert and interested, and help us push our boundaries and discover new things about ourselves and the world.
But even that may get slightly boring after a while. After all, we know it is a dream. The challenges are no more real for us than the ones we watch in a movie or read in a book. The stakes are not very high. How can we raise the stakes and make it more interesting? By forgetting that we are dreaming.
Practices seem to emerge on their own, in their own time, and often as a quiet redirection of curiosity.
Over the last few weeks, one of my practices has been to find the genuine truth in my beliefs.
It may sound funny. Most of the time, I explore beliefs by noticing whether I can know if they are absolutely true, paying attention to their effects, imagine who I would be without the belief, and finding the genuine validity in its reversals (The Work).
Now, it seems time to also find the genuine truth in the initial belief, especially the central and long lasting ones. And as with the other facets of the exploration, there is a sense of relief when I do this, a sense of coming home.
What is our fundamental view on ourselves and reality? That is one of the key questions in our lives, and a basic assumption that colors how we perceive and act in the world.
Our conscious view is certainly one aspect of the answer. But even more important is our very basic images and feelings about ourselves and the world.
Do we have a basic trust and faith in ourselves and the world, or is there instead a basic sense of distrust and fear?
If we feel that the world cannot be trusted at a fundamental level, we will naturally tend to get lost and caught up in escape, wishful thinking, sentimentality, and so on. We seek refuge in beliefs.
If we experience a deep trust in reality, we will equally naturally tend to allow experience as is, and seek to find what is more honest for us than any one viewpoint. We seek refuge in reality.
What do I see in Don Quixote? I see – among other things – someone who is at odds with reality, fighting imaginary enemies.
How do I find that in myself? I do the same whenever I take a story as true. I identify with a particular viewpoint, so am necessarily at odds with reality. Reality is not limited to my stories about it.
What happens when I am at odds with reality? There is stress. Discomfort. A sense of unease. Sense of separation. Tension.
This is a great little WW2 cartoon – The Spirit of ‘43 – on the virtues of saving.
I am curious of why the attitudes in the US has changed so dramatically since then, both in terms of saving – at individual and national levels – and paying taxes. It is of course partly due to consumerist ideology, fueled by corporations and politicians who partly serve these corporations. But it is curious how so many individuals have bought into it, when it doesn’t really serve them in the long run.
Fortunately, saving is still very much an alive virtue among many, and even more so in many other countries. (As this chart of household savings show.) And it seems that most people here in Norway, and probably many other places, are very happy to pay taxes. After all, their use benefits us all.
When I look at the type of spirituality I am most familiar with, I find three facets. And one, two, or three of them can be present at once, it seems, and in any combination.
First, there is fascination. We can be fascinate by many things, including the idea of what we may get out of spirituality (awakening, healing, peace, good rebirth), our own path and experiences (insights, dreams, glimpses), the stories in the tradition (cosmology, teaching stories), the teacher (personality, what they represent), more peripheral aspects such as reincarnation, supernatural powers, and auras, or even more peripheral things such as astrology, foreseeing the future, reincarnation, and also anything unexplained and weird such as UFOs, crop circles, ghosts and so on.
Fascination can be very helpful. It can make us feel good, hopeful, and inspired. It can help us stay with a path. It can be a needed temporary escape from problems. And it brings up projections, inviting us to find here what we see over there.
It is always interesting to notice how different practices work together and how they may mutually support each other.
For instance, The Work and exploring sense-fields have a great deal of similarities, and there is also some cross-fertilization there.
In The Work, I explore the effects of taking a story as true, and find what is more honest for me than the initial belief.
And through exploring the sense-fields, I notice gestalts made up of image overlays on sense fields, what happens when gestalts are taken as real and substantial, and what happens when the images are recognized as a simple overlay of images.
The questions and sub-questions of The Work guide my exploration of the sense -fields. The sense-field exploration helps me notice the mechanisms here now, and in more detail. And through The Work, I get to see how beliefs play themselves out in my life in more detail.
Again, very simple, and perhaps obvious both in a psychological and spiritual context. But also something I find helpful and fascinating just about every day. I often do this before falling asleep and after waking up, and also at times throughout the day.
I can explore what is here in sensation, either as an open exploration of the sense field.
Or if a specific symptom, emotion, mood, or anything else draws my attention, I can explore that.
What do I find when I bring attention to sensations? How does it show up in sensation? What is its sensation facet?
What is here as images overlaid on those sensations?
How do they combine? How do I experience the combination of the two?
When I get a small rock in my shoe, attention goes there allowing me to notice it and do something about it.
And that is an example of a much more general pattern. Attention goes to what bothers me, so I can notice it and do something about it.
Sometimes, I do something about it in the world, like removing a pebble from my shoe. Other times, I notice and inquire into a belief. Or there is a combination.
So why does attention to go what bothers us?
In an immediate sense, it is easily explained. Something feels off, so attention goes there so we can do something about it. If it is resolved, attention moves on. If it is not resolved in a satisfying way, attention will tend to return.
Stories themselves are obviously essential. They helps us orient and navigate in the world, and guide attention and action. Stories help us remember the past, envision the future, and make sense of the present.
We can of course use stories as guides, whether we see them as just guides or make them into beliefs.
So what is the function of beliefs? Why do we have beliefs when stories themselves are sufficient? What is the unique contribution of beliefs?