Panna's thread

[Panna]

Hi Ilona,

The questions I haven't yet answered are still germinating. I only picked the flowers that had bloomed. Be sure that I’m watering the remaining seeds with my full attention and will write you when they flower, and eagerly so.

I'm happy that our conversation continues to bloom. ;-)

[Panna]

Hi Ilona,

The questions I haven't yet answered are still germinating. Be sure that I’m watering the remaining seeds with my full attention and will write you when they flower and eagerly so.

I'm very happy that the conversation continues to bloom.

[Ilona]

Beautiful. Perhaps just answer one question a day, pick them yourself in any order, whichever feels clearest. By writing the answers the mind clarifies itself, so there is no way to fail at them and I can see if there are subtle nuances where you can look deeper. So crack on, don't wait. Write. ( you are very good at it! )

Much love.

[Panna]

Okay, one at a time it is then ... ;-)

1. "Is there a 'me' at all, anywhere, in any way, shape or form? Was there ever?"

No, there is absolutely no me. Not in the sense of a permanent, unique, unchanging personality or soul that abides through eternal time. No such a me ever existed and therefore one cannot exist today, in any form at all.

It's been 100% change and flux from the beginning & it will be 100% flux and change to the end.

Except there will be no end. Only more flux and change.

At some point in the history of the human species, a false "me" arose that we mistakenly came to believe was precious and permanently abiding. But what that illusion, and how the confusion got started, are questions for another day.

Asking "Is there a me?" is like asking a geranium, if a geranium could speak, if it believes in a “me” in the sense of “I am a separate and distinct geranium with my own destiny and soul.”

But human beings are so much more complex and highly evolved than potted plants, you might object. For example, human beings have self-witnessing consciousness, and most humans have active egos, too.

That's true. But the way I see things now, that's not such a big deal.

Consciousness and ego are basically just two distinguishing features of the human species, I'd say.

We have consciousness and egos in the same way that flowers have petals, or as fish have fins.

Self-witnessing consciousness and the ego are very unusual species markers to be sure, and perhaps ones with complex traits and powers. But in the end they are only two of the many distinguishing features of the species, and thus could no more define an individual “me” than a tusk could define the “me” of an elephant, or a peacock’s feathers could represent its soul. Or the redness of blueness of a geranium, the quintessence of an "I."

[Ilona]

:) next...

[Panna]

Hi Ilona,

Cranking on ... ;-)

2. “Is there anything that is separate from everything else?”

No, nothing at all. Everything is part of the endless billowing of spellbinding shapes and forms out of emptiness, then the shrinking of all those forms and apparent solidities -- skyscrapers, billiard balls, plants and animals, sensations, thoughts, feelings -- back into that same emptiness.

The ego tenaciously holds on to the belief it is separate and, feeling fear and lacking wisdom, it enchants itself to create the illusion of unity.

In the wonderful Screamin’ Jay Hawkins blues song, “I Put a Spell on You,” ego is so terrified of loneliness and separateness from the beloved that it casts a spell of unconsciousness upon itself. Anything to escape the fear:

“I love you, you, you!
I love you! I love you! I love you!
I love you, you you!

I don’t care if you don’t want me,
‘Cause I’m yours, yours, yours anyhow.”

Behold the the willful, ignorant, relentless magical thinking of the ego, mistaking repetitious chanting of the name of love for the real thing.

Anything to escape the fear.

It works for a while. But then there’s the downside, which is all the suffering.

Which makes for great blues songs but a sad, sad life.


“Explain in detail what the illusion of separate self is, when it starts and how it works.”

I’ll speak from my experience here. I’m assuming that’s what you intended in your question, that I speak only from personal experience as opposed to spinning theories. I just want to forthrightly say that I don’t consider myself any kind of expert on these profound questions. With the one possible exception being my own personal experience with the illusion of a separate self, or ego.

And even this, you’ll notice, I quickly qualify with the words “possible exception,” because in my experience it’s fiendishly hard to understand the ego. Because it is, in its essence, a really clever magic trick, an illusion, and how to do you see through an illusion? The ultimate illusion is likely to be this one: “I’ve seen the ego clearly. I have seen through the illusion. I am realized!” It’s so easy to snooker yourself. So a lot of humility is needed.

All that said, since you asked (thanks), I will proceed with humility ...

In the first fleeting moments of awareness each morning, while I’m still in bed with my eyes closed but have just awakened from the sleep state, it is an excellent time to investigate how the ego arises. Because in these very first few moments of consciousness I sometimes discover that I am awake and aware but can find no solid “I.” Since there is no solid “I” in these moments, if I remain awake and aware, I’m then literally able to watch the process by which the ego is created before I hop out of bed and start my day. And what I am able to see is that I put on the ego like a suit of armor.

It’s a suit of armor accessorized with built-in jet packs allowing flight through the air as well as night goggles, food storage, on-board entertainment and both offensive and defensive weapons systems.

Miraculously, the whole giant package remains light, flexible and clever enough to metamorphose instantly into any other size or shape as a disguise. It could choose to become a sports car, a bicycle, a basket of red roses, a dashing explorer in a safari suit or a bank clerk in a suit and tie.

My ego is like a hybrid of a Transformer and the T-1000 which is the scary, unkillable, liquid metallic guy who constantly reconstitutes himself after being completely blown to bits in various ways in the Terminator movies.

But I get ahead of myself. The Doug-less moments before I put on my egoic suit of armor in the morning are blissful, and I dawdle and luxuriate in them for as long as possible. I’ve been doing this for most of my life. I used to do it for hours when I was a little kid, when I could access this wonderful state not only in the mornings but also for 20 or 30 minutes at night before I fell asleep. I long ago lost the ability to do this at night. As an adult, I’ve relied on a night’s sleep to slip me into this bliss in the morning for a while.

So the next thing that happens, while I’m still in the Dougless state, is that a feeling arises within my consciousness. That feeling is fear.

Suddenly, the very same “no Doug” that has been generating bliss, appears to give rise to fear. It seems that what calls forth the fear is, usually, a memory -- a memory of hurt. Or it could be the anticipation or expectation of future hurt. So probably it would be accurate to say that a memory or an expectation of hurt actually precedes the arising of fear.

Anyway, fear arises, that I will experience hurt again.

This is the thought that makes me reach for my suit of armor.

What exactly is my suit of armor? It’s “Doug!”

And what specifically do I “pull on,” when I pull on Doug, just as I will later pull on a pair of socks, a pair of pants and a shirt? I pull on a bunch more memories, attitudes, beliefs, plans, feelings, as well as reactions to feelings, sensations that arise from the reactions to feelings, on and on.

Suddenly the whole Transformer/T-1000 is constructed. “Doug” has been remembered and rebuilt. And with that, I begin to feel ready to face the day.

I open my eyes and jump out of bed.

The wonderful thing about the gateless gate is that I feel as though, for the first time, I suddenly am able to swing my attention around a full 180 degrees. So that instead of facing my memories and my fears of the future, of people and situations that would hurt me, I instead can look at what precious thing it is that I supposedly am protecting with all my might.

What I see that I am protecting is ... nothing. Emptiness.

Emptiness lies behind the fear. I’ve built a giant, heavily buttressed and reinforced and weaponized fortress called “Doug” to protect ... nothing.

But now comes the realization.

Nothing to protect, nothing to fear. Relief!

I’m still feeling a deep sense of relief, days later. Relief and a sense of lightness, since I’ve put down my weapons and my armor for good.

But that’s not quite accurate. It would be more accurate to say that, having crossed the gateless gate, I’m still putting down my armor, piece by piece.

The past few mornings, in the first few moments of consciousness, I’ve awakened as usual into my blissful, Dougless state. But then I catch myself putting on Doug. Putting on the armor. I’m still weaponizing myself.

The old spark of fear still arises. I reach for my trusty old attitudes and beliefs, my prejudices and my stories about myself, all designed to protect me from my supposed enemies. Sometimes I protect myself by blocking their bombs and their bullets, and sometimes by shooting my own.

<<<Sigh>>>

But there is a definite loosening going on. A great letting go of the grip of wanting and desiring life to be different than it is, in any way. It’s being replaced by a deep delight in noticing exactly the way things are, a delight which I can honestly touch in any moment, including ones that include pain.

It’s liberating, and I am reveling in freedom.

But I’m reveling quietly. The energy is even and calm.

I keep seeing, hearing, touching, tasting, feeling, thinking.

Being, unfolding, billowing. Everything disappearing and reappearing.

That’s all.

Nothing to protect, nothing to fear.

It’s sweet!

[Ilona]

Very well written, I think you should do it as a job! Haha ;)

Loved your noticing that the illusion of separate self is illusion of ego. The whole fear is about loosing that ego, that prescious bastard that is never content, isn't it great. But there is nothing to loose as it is not real. And so fear is guarding nothing. What a joke.

Cool.
Next question. :))

[Panna]

"How does it feel to see this? Describe in detail."

It feels like freedom. Like the unclenching of a fist. Like a great long relaxing outbreath. Like one has fallen from a great height, but instead of worrying and fearing an imminent crash, one is enjoying the sense of weightlessness and the pure pleasures of simply noticing and looking around. It feels like gentle, easy, rolling laughter. Like the sigh of release that follows a moment of understanding, when painful old patterns are dissolved by insight. Like remembering a time when, as a child, you were absolutely happy, when you and your mind and nature were all one.

[Ilona]

Nice to see yum back!
Looking forward to the rest of the answers.

Much love

[Panna]

How would you describe it to somebody who has never heard about this illusion but is curious about it.  

1. Imagine that a hand puppet acts out your whole life story. You approach the puppet and look inside, only to find it completely empty.

2. Imagine you are seeking the source of a river. You paddle in a canoe upstream for days, weeks, months. But instead of narrowing as you get closer to the river's source, the river never narrows but instead grows wider and wider. You keep paddling and paddling upstream, always against the current. But the river instead of narrowing just gets wider and wider. Finally, you die as an old man or woman, still paddling, always fighting against the current, with the river always getting wider and wider and wider. Finally you realize that this strange river has no source, that it just keeps getting wider and wider the further upstream you go. “Such a strange river!” you say. “Such a strange life!”

3. Imagine a candle you are trying to blow out. You blow and blow, but it just won’t go out. It’s like one of those joke birthday cake candles. You think it’s dead but suddenly it sparks back to life. You spend days, weeks, years and decades of your life, trying to blow the candle out. You miss your children’s birthdays, you don’t read the books that you have always wanted to read, you don’t swim in the ocean or take bike ride or canoe trips, or even take slow quiet walks out by the cornfields. Finally, you realize you only have a few years of life left, and you don’t want to spend them trying to blow out this silly candle flame. What a waste that would be! So one day, you give up. You start to leave the room where you have spent decades trying to blow out the candle. You are heading towards the outdoors, towards the cornfields, towards your husband or wife, towards your children, towards the life you’ve always dreamed about having but never had the guts to finally try to have. Just before you leave the room, out of idle curiosity, not giving a damn about the candle one way or another, you turn around for one last look. And you see that the flame has finally died. The fact that you didn’t give a damn about the candle flame, whether it was dead or alive, is what finally snuffed it out.

[Ilona]

Love these metaphors. Very fresh, creative and unique. Let's here some more :)
Sending love.

[Panna]

1. When the mind finally sees that there is neither anything solid in this world that it can grasp, nor anything solid or flexible within its control that it can use to grasp to something with -- it immediately stops grasping. Because in the final analysis the mind is objective, rational and wise. Thus when, in a moment of deep clarity, the mind sees there is neither subject nor object in the actual physical world we inhabit -- there is no apple and no hand to grasp it with, no fish and no claw to catch it with -- it simply lets go. That's it. At that point, finally, the body can take a rest.

2. Wanting is nothing grabbing itself.

3. When the mind grasps at nothing, the body tenses and tightens too. That’s the essential human dilemma. When the mind sees a mind-mouse scamper across the mind-floor in the mind-kitchen, the actual body tightens, the eyes widen, the throat shrieks and the mind begins to scheme revenge. Our actual body fills with rage to kill nothing more than a phantom, a dream, a mind-mouse! Think of all the energy that's wasted there, all the delusion and misplaced imagination pouring forth both to create and solve a non-existent problem, an absolute phantasm of a threat in a world that never was. And besides all the wasted energy, all the pointless suffering caused by the tensing of the body over nothing at all. Of course, our minds don’t stop at reacting in panic to the tiny mind-mice we see. We weep oceans of actual, in-the-moment tears over ancient heartaches; we gasp for breath as we imagine future showdowns with our supposed enemies; we seize up like fear-frozen gazelles imagining bloodthirsty mind-lions and mind-tigers leaping from behind every bush, their wild eyes flashing and razor-teeth bared. Whereas most likely in such moments of mortal terror we actually are resting in our beds, or perhaps sipping coffee, or daydreaming at work, or reading a book. What would this world of ours be like if we responded objectively and wisely to the actual world that we live in -- which is a world of great billowing clouds of consciousness that endlessly make solid-seeming forms that fascinate for an instant and then dissolve back into to nothing -- instead of to mind-made worlds of fear and painful grasping? That’s the ultimate question.

[Ilona]

hi Doug, thank you for sharing your fresh seeing.

here are the last two questions

5) What was the last bit that pushed you over, made you look? was there a specific moment when seeing happened or was it gradual? what exactly happened?

6) add anything that you feel that you need to add.
looking forward to the answers.

much love.

[Panna]

5) What was the last bit that pushed you over, made you look? was there a specific moment when seeing happened or was it gradual? what exactly happened?

Yes. I was writing exactly what you'd asked, what I wanted from liberation.

As I wrote my answers to you, I was staying aware of how my body felt.

I started to write the sentence "I wish from realization that ..."

So I wrote the word "I" and I felt "ouch!" My chest got tight and I realized I was breathing shallowly.

But I pressed on:

"I wish ..." And again, when I wrote the word "wish," I felt "ouch!"

More tightness, more shortness of breath. A constriction.

But I pressed on: "I wish that from realization I ..."

After I wrote that second "I," stopped typing.

How ridiculous to be writing "I ... I ..."

I realized that I was "I-obsessed." That was my realization.

And with that I felt loose, my belly and chest relaxed and I could take a deep breath.

Sweet release!

I just sat there for a few minutes. Nothing special happened except I wasn't writing, and I was feeling relaxed and noticing that I was breathing easily and slowly. I realized there was no way I could ever finish that sentence because it was simply absurd, it was all about an unhealthy obsession. It had actually hurt to write those words.

How hurtful it is to have an I, and how much it hurts to want. Would it be the rational thing to do, to drop both?

In that moment, I did.

At that moment, when I looked back at the sentence I had started to write, I saw how absurd it had been, not only because it was acutely uncomfortable to write those words, but also because they described exactly nothing -- a pure wanting, a pure grasping, or as I put it in the post above, it was "nothing grabbing itself."

What a laugh!

There nothing more than that. If anything, it was a very quiet moment, without any great flashes of light or inner music or strong feeling. It was just the opposite. All was quiet and simple. I'd done a natural and rational thing: Clearly seeing what was causing me hurt, I had stopped doing that thing. I put down my pen.

Like the moment a leaf falls from a tree. Just that.

[Panna]

The way that a mirror can be both empty and full, being nothing other than what it is reflecting -- and not even that! -- very nicely describes my post-leaf-falling state of mind.

I continue to experience nearly everything that I did before. This includes the wide array of both pleasant and unpleasant sensations and experiences. But this reflecting quality is more present than before. When either a pleasant or an unpleasant experience arises, such as the very familiar tightness over the "I" or "wanting," the mirror more quickly arises right along with it. And suddenly I am seeing experience as a mirror.

Not being experience, you might say, only reflecting it.

And in, around, above, below, between, beside and shot through everything completely ... LOVE.