realizing selflessness

[whoknows]

A text exchange this morning with a dear friend who’s been practicing intensively at the Zen monastery we first visited together in college and where each of us has lived at different times:

Me: I still haven’t grokked it, though my guide, Vince, is of the maddeningly Zennie opinion that I already know it but just don’t know that I know it.

Her: I agree with Vince.

Me: Hmph

I also agree with vince. The “Hmph” is about how annoying it is that it’s hard to know what to do with that other than just chill and wait.

* * * * *

Most days, I spend a total of about an hour driving, and I usually spend at least part of that doing “driving practice.” I realized today that it’s past time for me to drop the effort involved in that. So I did the driving equivalent of “do nothing” sitting. Same feeling of relief and realizing how tiresome the effort had gotten.

I thought I might have been perceiving a little more clearly and vividly because I was not trying to do anything, but then it occurred to me that I might just be noticing the bright, oblique autumn sunshine after quite a few days of clouds and rain.

But I am noticing today that my mind is quieter than usual—maybe not fewer thoughts but more like quieter thoughts or like they have more trouble getting revved up.

[whoknows]

I’ve noticed this before, but I’m not sure whether I’ve written about it:

When one first learns meditation, it feels like it takes effort and vigilance and energy to repeatedly notice thoughts and return the attention to sense perceptions (e.g., the feel of the breathing).

But increasingly I’m noticing—not just during meditation but all the time—that when thoughts are recognized as thoughts and, thus, have been let go, there’s a sense of relief, like there was a lot of energy going into keeping the thoughts spinning, plus there’s often stress or anxiety or some other sort of unhappiness associated with thoughts, so that weight has been dropped. By contrast, being aware of sense perceptions doesn’t take energy and isn’t a heavy burden. It’s just what’s apparent when thoughts are dropped.

Also, the energy of thoughts feels like it’s up in the head and maybe the chest, and when thoughts are dropped, all of that relaxes, and the energy settles back down toward the hara.

(It occurs to me now and then that I don’t know how much you know about Buddhism and specifically Zen, so I’m not sure what does and doesn’t need explanation. I’m going to guess you might know the word hara?)

[vinceschubert]

increasingly I’m noticing—not just during meditation but all the time—that when thoughts are recognized as thoughts and, thus, have been let go, there’s a sense of relief, like there was a lot of energy going into keeping the thoughts spinning, plus there’s often stress or anxiety or some other sort of unhappiness associated with thoughts, so that weight has been dropped.

Excellent noticing.
Isn't it interesting that what is constantly there isn't noticed? It becomes some kind of background that is taken as reality.
A good story is that you are beginning to relate to what is actual rather than a constructed reality. Beautiful.

there’s often stress or anxiety or some other sort of unhappiness associated with thoughts

Yes, that is until we recognise that those thoughts aren't something that we have to take responsibility for. We don't take them personally.

I’m going to guess you might know the word hara?

i had to look it up.
An interesting thought is how we might be more physically stable with a lower center of gravity.

i love how movement continues for K

v

[whoknows]

A combination of the seeking impulse and needing a pastime led me to watch a couple of Angelo videos, starting with one on being alert for the next thought to arise, which I've used quite a few times as a guided meditation. Then I listened twice to Three Dog Night’s “Shambala,” which is now pleasantly stuck in my head.

I’d been thinking that I might then return to some of your pointers that I didn’t respond to, but I started watching a recent, 9-minute Ilona video, "What Can’t You Stop Seeking?” that YouTube offered up.
Ilona asks, “What are you looking for precisely?”
Pausing to consider that briefly, this is what first came to mind: peace, ease, freedom, lightness, contentment.
She talks about how the seeking energy becomes a seeker identity that needs to be seen and discovered, and she encourages us to find the deep, true longing behind the seeking and to meet it, allow it, feel it deeply, so that it won’t continue to produce the sense that there’s something missing.
She asks, “What does it want you to know? What is waiting to be met?”
Unsurprisingly, tears arise.
(In some ways, Ilona’s guidance is not my style, but once before, I found one of her videos helpful for acknowledging and embracing feelings.)
I transcribed a little more of what she was saying to help me really hear it, but now I’ve deleted it because the video ended up being a teaser for her 8-week course.
How deflating and disappointing.
I hadn’t watched any of her videos for a quite a while, and that might be the last one.
I’m grateful to her for being a cofounder of Liberation Unleashed, and I get that funding can be required for doing these things, so, fine, charge a fee for the course. But a video that turns out to be an ad, leading you into personal inquiry but then leaving you hanging with “Sign up for my course”? Ugh. No. Not cool. At least make it clear in the video title that it’s a teaser for the course.

Now I feel like I don’t have enough time before lunch to return to your pointers in a thoughtful, relaxed way, so I’ll just take a look at another video offered up by YouTube, Angelo’s “How to Stop Seeking,” which it appears I might’ve already watched, but I don’t remember it.

Got a minute into the video, and the mind went, “Nah. Never mind. Let’s just listen to some more music.” So maybe I already got the message.

I’d go take a walk outside, but I had a tremendous sneezing fit this morning, and I think the fall allergy season is in full swing, so perhaps I’ll just pace around inside the library with my earphones in.

Since last night, I’ve been noticing my right eye twitching, which I associate with stress, but I looked it up and apparently allergies can cause eye twitching, and I prefer that explanation to my initial speculations about there being more crap that wants to be dredged up right away in the awakening process. I mean, I'm sure there's more crap, but maybe it doesn't need to be dealt with today?

Thank you for being you, vince.

[whoknows]

Misc. things:

(1)
Afternoon sit:
More aware of the hara than I have been in a long time. (A basic part of Zen meditation is putting the attention in the hara.)
Noticing how it feels like the natural resting state or equilibrium state is awareness of sense perceptions, with energy or attention settled in the lower abdomen. And when the mind is caught up in thoughts, it feels like extra energy is being expended and attention is pulled up into the head and maybe the chest and away from sense perceptions. Noticing thoughts releases all of that.
It was feeling like the hara exerts a sort of gravitational or magnetic attraction so that when energy isn’t being expended to keep thoughts spinning in the head, attention is naturally pulled back down and the “doors of perception” are opened back up a bit.

(2)
Right eye still twitching. Despite my allergy hypothesis, I keep wondering if there’s something about primal terrified awe in the face of (non)existence that isn’t finished being acknowledged or whether there’s something else wanting to be attended to.

(3)
Decided to read that article about what happens in the brain when you die. Okay, so maybe the end typically involves a burst of memory and is peaceful, even blissful. That’s nice, I guess, but it doesn’t seem to have any bearing on my existential fear related to mortality, which is not about the process of dying but the fact of being mortal and also the bizarre fact that everything, including “me,” exists at all and seems like it might not have existed.

I read the article and wrote the paragraph above with almost no emotional reaction. Not sure what to make of that. The primal terror is stuffed back down (with just a little leaking out in the form of eye twitching)? It got so much attention for a few days that it wore itself out for the time being? The aeration of the sense of self is still doing its magical aeration of the primal terror also?

[vinceschubert]

The eye twitch jumped out at me.
Notice how you relate to it by seeking meaning. Is this a classic case of relating to the thoughts about it rather than the actual experience?
Is there a belief that something will change (fix?) if the mind is satisfied?
It seems obvious here that it could be the result of a few possibilities.
How about getting really curious about the actual experience?
Is it still there whether inside or outside?
What about when meditating?
Is each twitch the same, or does it vary?
Is it happening when you are engrossed in something else or only when (fill in the circumstances)
Does it affect vision?
How insistently does it want attention?
Is it constant, or does it come and go?
Is it happening when you are drifting off to sleep? What about when you first wake up?

i'm really curious about how this investigation affects your relationship with it.

v

[whoknows]

Will consider your questions about the eye twitch (which continues).

But first, I had one more thing from today:
Did another sit as part of evening prayer with our community.
Starting DOing stuff, and let myself continue with that for a bit, but eventually reminded myself that what generally seems best at this point is to “do nothing.”
Then the thought arose, “Stay out of the way.”
That felt slightly different from “Do nothing,” and it felt good and right—like, stuff is happening; just let it happen and don’t interfere.
It felt like, don’t be a busybody. I suppose busybodies occasionally do something useful, but mostly they’re annoying and get in the way.
I also thought of how peaceful protestors are instructed that if they get arrested, they should go limp, as a form of nonviolent resistance. I played briefly with the image of “going limp,” but that seemed a little too much like doing something, and I went back to “Stay out of the way.”
Again, noticed tingling in the legs, and again, I have no way to know whether that’s always going on and I just notice it in certain circumstances or whether certain circumstances trigger it, but whatever.
Felt more-than-usually spacious and peaceful after the sit.

[whoknows]

The eye twitch jumped out at me.
Notice how you relate to it by seeking meaning. Is this a classic case of relating to the thoughts about it rather than the actual experience?

Hmm . . .
I think I’m relating to both the actual experience and the thoughts about it.
It’s a mildly irritating sensation.
And it seems like it could be conveying possibly useful information, like, “Take more antihistamine” or “See if vince thinks there’s some spiritual/psychological issue we need to address.”

Is there a belief that something will change (fix?) if the mind is satisfied?

Not necessarily. And I don’t feel a strong need to fix it. It’s not all that bothersome, and I figure it’ll probably go away within a day or two whether I do anything about it or not. (I suppose that’s based on occasional past experiences with twitching eyes.)

It seems obvious here that it could be the result of a few possibilities.

Yes.

How about getting really curious about the actual experience?
Is it still there whether inside or outside?

Yep.

What about when meditating?

Yep.

Is each twitch the same, or does it vary?

Always the right eye.
Sometimes toward the outer corner, mainly the lower lid; sometimes more toward the center of the lower lid; sometimes little bit below the outer corner of the lower lid.
Occasionally a pair of twitches, one right after the other.
Sometimes not really a twitch but something short of that, more just a tightening of a muscle.
Haven't noticed any pattern about the variations, i.e., when it's one way and when it's another way.

Is it happening when you are engrossed in something else or only when (fill in the circumstances)

Seems to be any ol’ time: meditating, driving, making dinner, eating dinner, going to the market, talking on the phone, typing on my computer.

Does it affect vision?

No.

How insistently does it want attention?

It gets my attention, but it’s basically just a minor nuisance. (It might bother me more if I thought it would last indefinitely.)

Is it constant, or does it come and go?

Not constant. Maybe at least once every 5 to 10 minutes. Sometimes multiple times in a minute or two. Haven't noticed any pattern about when it's more and less frequent.

Is it happening when you are drifting off to sleep? What about when you first wake up?

I’ll give you an update tomorrow (if I remember to notice).

i'm really curious about how this investigation affects your relationship with it.

I think paying so much attention to the eye twitch has made it a little more annoying, but I'm not sure about that.

[whoknows]

P.S. I remember only one eye twitch while falling asleep, and so far, nothing this morning. I took some antihistamine before bed and also used antihistamine nose spray. I presume there's a causal connection there but, of course, can't know for sure.

[whoknows]

Afternoon drive, afternoon sit, and evening sit:
Continued with “doing nothing,” with the reminder “Stay out of the way.”
Noticed I was hoping for something interesting or pleasant to happen—not necessarily anything big, maybe just a little something.
Noticed I was disappointed that nothing in particular happened.

Evening drive:
Mind quieter than usual.
Noticed I was glad.

An observation I made in the past year or two and remembered this morning:
I get annoyed by people who talk nonstop. I don’t want them to have the desk next to mine at work. I don’t want to go out to dinner with them. I wouldn’t want to go on a road trip with them.
I realized I talk to myself nonstop. And I’m no less irritating than anyone else.
It’s such a relief when I shut up now and then.
It’s been happening more and more in the past year or two.
It's happened a bit more than usual in the past couple of days.
And, yeah, I know, talking to myself is also THIS.
But so is my preference for a quieter mind.

That reminds me of one of the few passages from Zen master Dogen I think I actually get: “simply, flowers fall amid our longing and weeds spring up amid our antipathy.”

Have noticed only a few eye twitches today, which seemed pretty random, i.e., without any obvious pattern related to my circumstances or thoughts.

[vinceschubert]

Hope wandered in looking for something interesting.
Disappointment followed when nothing obliged.
Later, Quiet turned up unannounced.
Then Gladness noticed her.

None of them checked with K first.

Continued with “doing nothing,” with the reminder “Stay out of the way.”

I like the reminder, although it does conjure a tiny K in a fluorescent vest directing traffic:
“Thoughts, keep moving. Expectations, pull over. Silence—you may proceed.”
But when thought appears, has anyone really obstructed life? Perhaps life occasionally chatters, occasionally falls silent, and occasionally tells itself to stay out of its own way.

I realized I talk to myself nonstop. And I’m no less irritating than anyone else.

The troublesome colleague has had the desk behind your eyes all along—and apparently comes on road trips without being invited.
No wonder the quiet is lovely.

Dogen’s flowers and weeds fit perfectly. Chatter springs up amid antipathy; silence falls amid longing. Preference doesn’t need to disappear. Quiet can be enjoyed without being promoted to evidence of awakening, and chatter can be irritating without becoming a spiritual emergency.

One small curiosity for the next quiet spell:
Did K actually stop talking—or did the talking stop, followed eventually by a thought taking credit for the silence?

Perhaps nobody shuts up. Sometimes the control tower simply goes quiet, sunlight comes through the windows, and the rabbits reclaim the runway.

As for the eye twitches: a few small, apparently random telegrams from the nervous system, containing no discernible message.

And, yeah, I know, talking to myself is also THIS.

was the experience of this just words? … Or did attention actually go to the tangible aspects of THIS, which is the body?

v

[whoknows]

Continued with “doing nothing,” with the reminder “Stay out of the way.”

I like the reminder, although it does conjure a tiny K in a fluorescent vest directing traffic:
“Thoughts, keep moving. Expectations, pull over. Silence—you may proceed.”
But when thought appears, has anyone really obstructed life? Perhaps life occasionally chatters, occasionally falls silent, and occasionally tells itself to stay out of its own way.

It’s not that thoughts are being directed to stay out of the way. It’s almost the opposite. It’s a reminder that the DOer doesn’t need to take charge of meditation—directing attention or managing thoughts—or of the awakening process. It’s happening on its own and can just be allowed to unfold.

And if the doer jumps in sometimes, no big deal. That doesn’t need to be managed either. But maybe she’ll quickly realize she can relax.

* * * * *

Late-night sit:
Realized I was still acting like being aware of sense perceptions is something I need to DO, like it requires at least a little bit of willpower or intention or managing, rather than simply being what’s always there, which becomes apparent when attention isn’t caught up in thoughts.

Noticed that I felt pleased about this odd little discovery, in part because apparently I want to keep feeling like this process is moving along.

More tomorrow. G’night.

[whoknows]

One small curiosity for the next quiet spell:
Did K actually stop talking—or did the talking stop, followed eventually by a thought taking credit for the silence?

Perhaps nobody shuts up. Sometimes the control tower simply goes quiet, sunlight comes through the windows, and the rabbits reclaim the runway.

Let’s see . . .
Of course, no “I” can be found who talks to herself or shuts up.
What it actually means to have a quieter mind is that thoughts arise with less frequency and/or that they more often don’t fully form before being noticed and subsiding and/or that they fade more quickly.
I don’t think a thought takes credit for the silence.
The relative quiet is simply noticed.
And it is felt to be a relief and is found pleasant.

And, yeah, I know, talking to myself is also THIS.

was the experience of this just words? … Or did attention actually go to the tangible aspects of THIS, which is the body?

Hmm . . . I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking.

It felt like I wrote that mainly to tell my brain and the vince-in-my-brain that they didn’t need to point out that there’s no intrinsic problem with talking to myself.
But I do prefer when there’s less mental chatter.
And I suppose a general trend toward less mental chatter does seem like a good sign of becoming less identified with thoughts—
And here goes that part of my brain again:
Yeah, I know I can’t find any “me” in there to identify or disidentify with thoughts.
The no-self translation of what I said: Having less mental chatter does seem like a good sign that thoughts are more often being recognized as thoughts. (I had to think about that translation harder than I expected to.)

So, anyway, back to your question . . .
Is this what you’re asking?:
When I said I knew that talking to myself is also THIS, was that just cognitive or was it coming from experiencing the bodily aspects of THIS?
If that’s the question, the answer is: Just cognitive.
And I’m having trouble figuring out what it would mean to base my statement that “talking to myself is also THIS” on attending to the body.
What would I find in the body that would have any bearing on that?

Grateful for your accompanying me through all of this, dear vince.

[whoknows]

While driving this afternoon, I noticed two things related to my discovery that I’d still been acting as if being aware of sense perceptions is something I need to DO, when of course nothing actually needs to be done, since awareness of sense perceptions is the default state:

(1) It felt a little quieter in my head. I don’t mean that in the usual way of less mental chatter. I mean something that’s more of a stretch for the metaphor of “quiet,” but that was the word that came to mind. It was like, after thoughts are noticed, since I don’t have to DO anything in order to “return” to awareness of sense perceptions, there’s less activity or effort going on in there, so it feels more quiet and still.

(2) I felt, at moments, more aware than usual of the whole visual field. My hypothesis is that ever since I was first taught meditative practices involving attention to breathing and walking, I’ve mostly associated attending to sense perceptions with narrowed or focused attention, even though I’ve also done shikantaza. So I’ve done a lot of noticing thoughts and returning the attention to a particular aspect of sense perception. But now I’m realizing that when I notice thoughts, I want to simply drop back into the natural (maybe?), open awareness of sense perceptions that's already there. So when I am doing “driving practice” and notice that I’m thinking, attention doesn't need to be directed specifically to the road in front of me. Nothing special or focused needs to be done with the attention. I’m facing forward; I’ll see the road. But I can see everything else too.

* * * * *

Yesterday morning and this morning, I was rewatching some Angelo videos from a playlist I’d compiled for myself called “THIS / Already / Let Go.” Some tidbits I made note of:
- "It's about relaxing into your experience." ("When you feel unrelaxed, relax into that.")
- "ultimately this process is about letting go."
- "Let reality show you what it is."

[whoknows]

Just read “The answer that arrived before Tess.” I’m with Tess: I like tossing explanations of choosing into the mystery basket. Neither free will nor determinism seems quite right.