The Gate

An observation about my mind:

The thoughts that arise, at least the ones that go unobserved long enough to fully form, generally block awareness of sense perceptions to some degree. This is especially obvious with vision, where it seems like, when I notice that my attention was caught up in thoughts, a haze clears and I can once again see what's in front of me. And I think the equivalent happens with the other senses.

In my afternoon sit today, I noticed that the snippets of the Doobie Brothers playing in my head — “Oh-oh-ohhhh, listen to the mu-u-sic . . . ” (I’m highly susceptible to earworms) — didn’t seem to interfere with my hearing or other senses. It was more like just another sound in the environment, like there was a radio on in addition to the sound of the air-conditioner.

That may have no bearing on what we’re doing here, but I found it interesting and wanted to share it.

Well, I guess it shows that I’m using meditation more as a “laboratory,” as you suggested, than as a “ladder” to awakening:

So keep the sitting periods, but frame them like this:

Not a ladder. A laboratory.

Not:

“I sit so I can wake up.”

More accurate:

“Sitting happens, and selfing becomes easier to see.”

That’s all.

I’ve also noticed that reminders to myself — like today’s “Stay right here” and “Awakeness is right here” — also don’t seem to interfere with awareness of sense perceptions, or at least not much.

If you’re reading this at 5 a.m.

i'm not (that was unusual) It's 7:30 & i'm having a pre-golf coffee.

It’s not just that much of what happens, or even most of what happens, even within K’s mind, is not in K’s control. Fine. Of course. No big deal.
It’s that “I” have NO control whatsoever — NONE.
There are NO “selves” who control ANYTHING.
This challenges my assumed reality of nearly sixty years.
This is WEIRD. It’s a BIG DEAL.
It's a MAJOR revision of my understanding of “myself” and all of reality.

Yes. The issue is becoming clear—but one assumption has slipped through unnoticed.
“I have NO control whatsoever” still imagines an “I” who has been deprived of control. It creates a powerless spectator where the powerful controller used to be.
That isn’t what is being discovered.
Control happens. The organism regulates, considers, chooses, learns and responds. Intentions affect actions; actions affect what happens next. But no separate entity can be found directing these processes from behind the scenes.
There is control, but no controller.
There is choosing, but no chooser.
There is responsiveness, but no independent author.
What is being challenged is not the organism’s capacity to influence events. It is the nearly sixty-year-old assumption that an autonomous “K” owns and commands that capacity.
That is weird. That is a major revision. The manageable freakiness suggests that the organism is gradually learning that functioning continues perfectly well without the imagined executive.
The question now is not, “Can K tolerate having no control?”
It is: Can the one who supposedly possessed control—or has now lost it—actually be found?

The sense of self may persist even after the nervous system has readjusted. What changes is not necessarily the sensation itself, but the belief that it indicates an actual entity.
The familiar “me” pattern may continue to arise—especially during stress, choice or conflict—but it is increasingly recognised as conditioned activity rather than evidence of a controller.
The sense of self can remain.
The misidentification with it weakens.
The nervous system gradually learns that life continues without anyone at its centre.
One thing that will help it persist is the conventional way that you refer to happenings when communicating. You will still say "I did that"

v

one assumption has slipped through unnoticed.
“I have NO control whatsoever” still imagines an “I” who has been deprived of control. It creates a powerless spectator where the powerful controller used to be.
That isn’t what is being discovered.
Control happens. The organism regulates, considers, chooses, learns and responds. Intentions affect actions; actions affect what happens next. But no separate entity can be found directing these processes from behind the scenes.
There is control, but no controller.
There is choosing, but no chooser.
There is responsiveness, but no independent author.

Pondering this . . .
(I actually put that first “I” up there in scare quotes, but I realize that that probably doesn’t do a whole lot to counteract the tenacity of the “self” assumption.)
It’s funny — it seems like you’re just saying again what you’ve said before, which I’ve been insisting (quite reasonably, I think) means that there’s only one way in which it could all unfold, which has sounded to me like there's no control. But somehow it isn’t hitting me quite the same way this time. I’m not sure why that is.
K has always imagined her“self” as a controller (with a brief blip senior year in college), but she hopes to grok very soon that there is truly no “self” that could exert control and that “control” exists only as part of what is “self”lessly happening, albeit sometimes as a part of patterns of thoughts and perceptions conventionally understood to be individual people.
That still seems like a really attenuated understanding of “control,” but maybe I’m starting to get used to it.
(Wow, that all sounded really abstract and hard to get a grip on.)

What is being challenged is not the organism’s capacity to influence events. It is the nearly sixty-year-old assumption that an autonomous “K” owns and commands that capacity.
That is weird. That is a major revision.

Yes.

The manageable freakiness suggests that the organism is gradually learning that functioning continues perfectly well without the imagined executive.

It has been clear to me all along that the practical functioning of life would not be affected by simply seeing what has always been the case about the “self.” (But apparently other people worry about this?) That the freakiness is calming down suggests to me that K’s mind is gradually getting used to the idea that being a person is different from what she’s always assumed and specifically that things like “choosing” and “control” are different from what she’d thought.

The question now is not, “Can K tolerate having no control?”
It is: Can the one who supposedly possessed control—or has now lost it—actually be found?

Yes, OK. Now I feel like we’re getting back to business.

Who thought she had control anyhow?
What thought it had control anyhow?
What’s actually here?
All that’s accessible to direct experience is an ever-changing cluster of thoughts and sense perceptions.*
What creates the illusion of a “self”?
Actually, that’s probably not all that important.
The important question is (I think): How can this illusion be seen as an illusion?
Or: How can the 3D dolphin be seen in the 2D array of little shapes?

* Well, in addition to thoughts and sense perceptions, there’s a basic sense of awareness or presence. And here I get tangled up in Rupert Spira’s Advaita Vedanta(-ish?) way of framing things, which maybe doesn’t mesh tidily with a no-self way of framing things. He talks about how most things are experienced in subject-object relationship, like the sun shining its light of awareness on the planets. But awareness is not experienced in subject-object relationship; it’s like how the sun is self-illuminating. You can’t look at awareness the way you look at other things; you can only be awareness or rest as awareness. I understand that in the no-self framework, this “awareness” is, or at least can be turned into, a “self” that’s simply more abstract that the notions of “self” it’s replacing. I don’t know what to do with this. Suggestions?

The sense of self can remain.
The misidentification with it weakens.

Last night, in my late-night sit, I started with the question “What’s actually here that gives the impression that there’s a ‘self’”? This leads to focusing mainly on sensations in the head, thoughts related to those sensations, and the sense of where thoughts appear. I can’t recall whether it was during the sit or only afterward that I realized that this was perhaps misguided, given your reminders that a sense of self may persist and that the important thing is not to identify with it. But now that I type that out, I notice that perhaps I could (and maybe even did?) use that question not with a sense that I need to get rid of any sense of self but only with a sense that I’m taking a good look at the illusion. Yeah?

Another thing I’ve been wondering about recently is whether any sort of self-inquiry practice fits with what we’re doing. In last night’s sit, I found myself landing on one of my favorite self-inquiry questions, which is, “What is looking out of these eyes?” Now, if “Who am I?” or any related question has the aim of connecting with the "I AM” or some sense of capital-S Self, maybe that doesn’t fit very well with what we’re doing and could get confusing. But I have mostly approached self-inquiry in the style of Adyashanti and Angelo DiLullo, both of whom are grounded in Zen and a no-self perspective, so I have mostly thought of “Who am I?” as a sort of trick question, like I’m looking at that sense of self really carefully in order to grok that there’s actually nothing there — or maybe asking that question because it can be a pretty good way to get the mind to shut up (just like being alert for the next thought to arise).

I liked when I had “Who am I?” in my pocket to pull out whenever my mind wasn’t occupied with heavy-duty left-brain cognition or, like, operating heavy machinery (i.e., driving). For a while, I used that question as a sort of 24/7 koan practice. What do you think about that?

It’s funny — it seems like you’re just saying again what you’ve said before, which I’ve been insisting (quite reasonably, I think) means that there’s only one way in which it could all unfold, which has sounded to me like there's no control. But somehow it isn’t hitting me quite the same way this time. I’m not sure why that is.
K has always imagined her“self” as a controller (with a brief blip senior year in college), but she hopes to grok very soon that there is truly no “self” that could exert control and that “control” exists only as part of what is “self”lessly happening, albeit sometimes as a part of patterns of thoughts and perceptions conventionally understood to be individual people.
That still seems like a really attenuated understanding of “control,” but maybe I’m starting to get used to it.

Something does seem to be landing differently. Perhaps “no separate controller” is no longer being translated quite so quickly into “K is a helpless passenger.”
There is one important distinction:
“No separate controller can be found” does not establish that there was only one possible way everything could unfold.
That second claim is determinism—a conceptual account. Experiencing reveals only what did happen. It cannot reveal all the alternatives and establish that none of them was possible. “It could have happened differently” and “it could not have happened differently” are both stories.
Control, conventionally understood, still happens. The organism regulates itself, considers options, learns, makes adjustments and responds to consequences. K can steer a car, revise a sentence and change how she teaches. What cannot be found is a separate K standing outside those processes, authoring and commanding them.
So perhaps “control” seems attenuated because it no longer means an independent self exercising unconditioned authorship. It means responsive regulation occurring within the unfolding.
The choosing is not controlled by K.
The choosing is part of what “K” refers to.
Watch the next small decision. Are there two things present—a K and a decision-making process—or are the considering, leaning, hesitating and acting themselves the whole event?

Well, in addition to thoughts and sense perceptions, there’s a basic sense of awareness or presence. And here I get tangled up in Rupert Spira’s Advaita Vedanta(-ish?) way of framing things, which maybe doesn’t mesh tidily with a no-self way of framing things. He talks about how most things are experienced in subject-object relationship, like the sun shining its light of awareness on the planets. But awareness is not experienced in subject-object relationship; it’s like how the sun is self-illuminating. You can’t look at awareness the way you look at other things; you can only be awareness or rest as awareness. I understand that in the no-self framework, this “awareness” is, or at least can be turned into, a “self” that’s simply more abstract that the notions of “self” it’s replacing. I don’t know what to do with this. Suggestions?

You don’t need to decide whether Rupert Spira or the no-self framework is correct. Separate what is experienced from the explanation placed upon it.
There appear to be three different things bundled together here:

1. Seeing, hearing, sensing and thinking are happening.
2. A subtle sense of presence or “being here” is experienced.
3. Thought interprets this as an enduring, self-illuminating substance called “Awareness.”
The first two are examinable. The third is a metaphysical story—not necessarily false, but not established by direct experience.
Spira’s sun metaphor begins by assuming something that illuminates experience. But look before the metaphor:
When a sound occurs, are there actually two things—the sound and awareness illuminating the sound? Or is there simply hearing?
Perhaps awareness cannot be found as an object because it is the ultimate subject. But there is another possibility:
It cannot be found because it is not a separate thing at all. “Awareness” may simply be a noun created from the fact that experiencing is happening.
Now investigate the “basic sense of presence.” What makes it known?
Is it subtle sensation around the head or chest? A sense of openness? Aliveness? A thought saying, “I am here”? Does it have a location, boundary, duration or owner?
Whatever is discovered needn’t be dismissed. The trap occurs only when the sense of presence is promoted into what I really am. The ordinary self has then been replaced by a more spacious, impersonal and difficult-to-find Self.
“Rest as awareness” may still be a useful instruction if it relaxes grasping. Just don’t let its metaphysical explanation sneak past unnoticed.
No-self does not deny experiencing.
It questions whether experiencing requires—or reveals—an experiencer, even one renamed “Awareness.”

I liked when I had “Who am I?” in my pocket to pull out whenever my mind wasn’t occupied with heavy-duty left-brain cognition or, like, operating heavy machinery (i.e., driving). For a while, I used that question as a sort of 24/7 koan practice. What do you think about that?

It can be a very useful practice—provided “Who am I?” remains a genuine question rather than becoming a search for the correct answer.
Its strength is that it interrupts the automatic assumption that every experience belongs to someone. Its weakness is that it can quietly preserve that assumption: there must be a mysterious “who” somewhere, and K must keep searching until she finds it. It can also relocate the imagined self into “the witness” or “Awareness.”
Given where this Inquiry has arrived, I’d sharpen the question:
What is the word “I” referring to—right now?
Don’t answer verbally. Look once:
Is “I” referring to a sensation, an image, a thought, the sense of presence—or an entity apart from those?
Then drop the question. No need to maintain a vigilant 24/7 search. That could keep seeking alive and give K another endless assignment.
For the present issue, another pocket question might be even more potent:
Is there a controller here—or is controlling simply happening?
Use the question as a brief opening into discovery, not as a mantra. Ask, look, find whatever is actually here, and return to life.

vince

The choosing is not controlled by K.
The choosing is part of what “K” refers to.

I like this formulation.

I started writing a bunch of stuff getting further into nuances of conditioned arising, determinism, what can be directly experienced vs. what can be logically deduced, the nature of control, etc., but I had prefaced that by saying I wasn’t sure it was worth continuing along these lines for our purposes here. And, yeah, I don’t think it is. I think all of this was mostly about addressing an existential fear of K’s that could get in the way of what we’re doing here. But even if some of the same ideas remain, they seem less problematic now, and I’d like to move along.

You don’t need to decide whether Rupert Spira or the no-self framework is correct. Separate what is experienced from the explanation placed upon it.

Agreed. It seems to me that “Self” or “no-self” language can probably work equally well to describe experience. (And I’m not sure I represented Rupert Spira’s way of talking about this stuff entirely accurately or fairly.) But given that I’ve been living mostly in the “no-self” world of discourse for forty years, I think it works best for me to stick with that. So:

There appear to be three different things bundled together here:

1. Seeing, hearing, sensing and thinking are happening.
2. A subtle sense of presence or “being here” is experienced.
3. Thought interprets this as an enduring, self-illuminating substance called “Awareness.”
The first two are examinable. The third is a metaphysical story—not necessarily false, but not established by direct experience.

Yes.

“Awareness” may simply be a noun created from the fact that experiencing is happening.

Yes. This idea works for me.
And actually, come to think of it, in making use of Rupert Spira’s videos for a year or two, I kept getting hung up on not being able to find “awareness” apart from awareness of something (and Rupert might have some way to address that, but whatever).

Now investigate the “basic sense of presence.” What makes it known?

Awareness of something — that is, experiencing happening. So, yeah, I’m with you on this.

Given where this Inquiry has arrived, I’d sharpen the question:
What is the word “I” referring to—right now?
Don’t answer verbally. Look once:
Is “I” referring to a sensation, an image, a thought, the sense of presence—or an entity apart from those?

This is good. I like this.

Then drop the question. No need to maintain a vigilant 24/7 search. That could keep seeking alive and give K another endless assignment.

Yes, indeed.

For the present issue, another pocket question might be even more potent:
Is there a controller here—or is controlling simply happening?
Use the question as a brief opening into discovery, not as a mantra. Ask, look, find whatever is actually here, and return to life.

Will consider this one too.

Many thanks, dear vince.

A small experiment:
Imagine falling—not thinking your way—into the experiencing of:
“Ahhh . . . okay. THIS is it.”
Don’t define THIS. Don’t decide what it includes or what it means. Let the words land, then notice:
What happens bodily? What happens in the throat, chest, belly, shoulders and face? Does anything soften, release or settle? Does anything resist?
What happens mentally? Is there a brief end to arguing, seeking or trying to get somewhere else? Is there amusement, relief, disappointment—or simply nothing remarkable?
Now see whether there is an expression that combines a sigh with a smile:
“Ahhh . . . okay, then.”
Don’t manufacture the response. See whether the organism recognises the gesture—a long exhale, shoulders relaxing, a slight smile, and no need to define what has just been accepted.

much love

v

Imagine falling—not thinking your way—into the experiencing of:
“Ahhh . . . okay. THIS is it.”
Don’t define THIS. Don’t decide what it includes or what it means. Let the words land, then notice:
What happens bodily? What happens in the throat, chest, belly, shoulders and face? Does anything soften, release or settle? Does anything resist?

First things I notice: shoulders relax, chest opens up, breathing feels freer.
Also, face relaxes. I especially notice mouth and jaw.
There’s a sense of seeing clearly, with a vague sense of interest in what THIS looks like.
I don’t notice any resistance.

What happens mentally? Is there a brief end to arguing, seeking or trying to get somewhere else? Is there amusement, relief, disappointment—or simply nothing remarkable?

There’s a sense of relaxing into the moment, a sense of relief that seeking is (more or less) done, that I can just BE.
No amusement.
Interestingly, there’s no disappointment, even though it’s just an ordinary evening scene: sitting on the couch after dinner with spouse, who’s reading a legal thriller and telling me bits he enjoys, with classical music playing in the background (not a genre I really connect with, but pleasant enough as background music) and the sky getting dark.

Now see whether there is an expression that combines a sigh with a smile:
“Ahhh . . . okay, then.”
Don’t manufacture the response. See whether the organism recognises the gesture—a long exhale, shoulders relaxing, a slight smile, and no need to define what has just been accepted.

Hmm . . . Definitely the sense of a sigh (of relaxation and relief), a long exhale, shoulders relaxing.
Maybe a very faint sense of a smile in the mouth and eyes, but at this point I’m reconstructing the initial response.
If I try to do it again — falling into “Ahhh . . . okay. THIS is it.” — yep, I think, along with the sigh feeling, I get just a tiny bit of a smile. And the mind adds: a Buddha-like smile (not the Laughing Buddha but Shakyamuni Buddha). And the mind finds it amusing and pleasing to imagine that the Buddha's tiny hint of a smile might in fact be something like, "Ahhh . . . okay. THIS is it."
Yes, the response is recognized.

That was fun.

i'm going to ask a question, but don't think an answer. Feel one!
Thoughts may turn up after to narrate, and that is fine, but don't focus on them.
The question is: What did that 'show' you? (Do this before reading on.)

Yes—the response was recognised, and it was bodily rather than merely conceptual.
The shoulders relaxed. The chest opened. Breathing became freer. The mouth and jaw softened. Only afterward did thought describe what had happened as “I can just BE.”
That sequence matters:
Relaxation happened.
Relief happened.
The ordinary evening was enough.
No one had to make any of it happen.
The absence of disappointment is particularly interesting. Nothing dramatic replaced the evening scene. There was a spouse reading, music playing, the sky darkening—and no immediate demand that THIS become more spiritual, more profound or more satisfying.
The tiny Buddha smile fits beautifully: not ecstatic bliss, but something closer to, “Ahhh . . . of course. This.”
And then thought added an enjoyable Buddha story. No problem. A story held lightly can be part of the fun.
Don’t turn this response into a state that must be reproduced. Sometimes the sigh may come; sometimes tension or resistance may remain. Neither result determines whether THIS is it.
Occasionally let the phrase land again, then look:
Did K relax into THIS—or did relaxing simply happen?
No need to answer. Let the sigh, the faint smile and the ordinary evening show what they show.

not a genre I really connect with

What is the genre that you feel?

v

i'm going to ask a question, but don't [i[think[/i] an answer. Feel one!
Thoughts may turn up after to narrate, and that is fine, but don't focus on them.
The question is: What did that 'show' you? (Do this before reading on.)

(I was scrolling so that the next line wasn’t even on my screen when I answered this.)
Minimally, it showed me that I can, at least in a quiet moment and at least briefly, feel something like what I imagine “being awake” to feel like.
Or perhaps I should say, I can access "being awake"?
Apparently, I can access that deliberately, at least sometimes.
(As I understand it, even if there were to be a particular “event” that I might think of as an “awakening" or a “shift,” the sense of that would probably come and go, but there might generally be at least a background sense that the “Ahhh . . . okay then” perspective was more immediately accessible than it had been in the past — or something like that.)

Now scrolling down . . .

Uh oh. Despite your explicit instructions, I guess I thought my answer more than feeling it. I only saw the first couple lines after I scrolled down. Let’s see if I can try again . . .

What did that show me?
That my body knows what it’s like to feel that sort of relaxed relief. That this feeling is accessible, as least sometimes.
(Despite a little “cheating,” that’s a genuine answer.)

OK, scrolling down further . . .

Occasionally let the phrase land again, then look:
Did K relax into THIS—or did relaxing simply happen?
No need to answer. Let the sigh, the faint smile and the ordinary evening show what they show.

Got it. Good.

What is the genre that you feel?

Mainly classic rock, especially blues rock and prog rock (e.g., Rush, Led Zeppelin, Jethro Tull), and also some folk-influenced stuff of the same era, especially with good harmonies (e.g., Simon & Garfunkel, Crosby, Stills, & Nash).

(After I came up with my dystopian sci fi image for sitting — that I was trying to fend off nefarious transmissions into my brain from an authoritarian government that’s trying to keep me from really looking at reality — I was listening to Rush’s “2112” one morning and realized that I have consumed dystopian sci fi not only in the form of novels, movies, and TV shows but also in the form of music.)

By the way, I've done lots of replays of that Angelo DiLullo video that deconstructs the thought "I am not awake." Sometimes, this includes pausing after some of his questions/pointers to really look. This feels very apt and fruitful right now.

(Brain offered the thought that I could use the editing software I use for class videos to make a version of that video with pauses built in. But then brain objected that it hopes we're not doing this for so long that that would seem worth the effort! And that reminded me of a story my first Zen teacher told about a guy who'd been working on the koan Mu for so long that he commissioned a stained-glass window for his house that said, "MU." But from the outside, it said, "UM.")

Re: K’s use of language about the “self”:

I’ve been noticing that I’m sometimes (increasingly?) casting the source of “my” thoughts in the third person, as “the brain” or “the mind” (e.g., “Brain offered the thought that,” “The mind adds”). This feels natural and slightly playful, and it’s clearly expressing a degree of disidentification between thoughts and “me.” I’m curious what the pattern is for what sorts of thoughts feel more like they were simply offered by the mind/brain and what sorts of thoughts feel more like “mine,” but I haven’t scrutinized that.

I’ve also been noticing that I’m sometimes (increasingly?) referring to “myself” in the third person as “K,” and I’ve paused a couple of times to wonder in what sorts of situations that comes naturally, but I haven’t scrutinized that either.

I sometimes simply elide the “I” from the start of sentences (e.g., “Wrote a long musing,” “Was thinking about this”), but that mostly feels like shorthand and/or like it’s a performative avoidance of “I” for this context, and I don’t think it does much to help disidentify from a sense of “I.” (I scrolled back looking for recent examples of this and was surprised not to find many.) (My previous LU guide gave me an exercise of describing experience using sentences that did or didn’t start with “I,” and I was clearly supposed to have a more “true” feeling from the sentences without “I,” but I didn’t feel any difference.)

I sometimes use the passive voice or otherwise (re)construct a sentence to avoid the use of “I,” and this does feel a bit like an attempt at disidentification from a sense of “I,” as well as being performative, but it usually feels a little artificial and forced (besides that the editor often can’t help cringing at the passive voice).

I notice, in that last sentence, that I can easily and naturally refer to some aspects of “myself” in the third person, like “the editor.”

Oh, right, and then there’s the use of scare quotes for “I,” “me,” “my,” “mine,” “myself,” “self.” In some cases, that’s partially performative, but I think it’s also generally manifesting at least a cognitive recognition of what I’m wanting to fully grok. (It’s interesting that I initially just wrote “wanting to grok” in that last sentence and then revised it to “wanting to fully grok,” perhaps in part to fend off comments from you or my brain about the “already” nature of awakeness but also because it felt more accurate.)

I've done lots of replays of that Angelo DiLullo video that deconstructs the thought "I am not awake." Sometimes, this includes pausing after some of his questions/pointers to really look. This feels very apt and fruitful right now.

Yes—this sounds very apt for where the Inquiry is now.
The fruitful part isn’t repeatedly hearing the explanation; it’s pausing and looking:
What does “I” refer to?
What is “not awake” referring to?
Before either answer appears, is experiencing marked as awake or not awake?
Continue while it feels alive and revealing. If it becomes mechanical or turns into another attempt to produce a result, put it down for a while.

I’ve also been noticing that I’m sometimes (increasingly?) referring to “myself” in the third person as “K,” and I’ve paused a couple of times to wonder in what sorts of situations that comes naturally, but I haven’t scrutinized that either.

This is useful disidentification, held playfully. Just notice that “the mind” can become another imaginary thinker behind thought. Thoughts may simply arise; ownership is often added afterward.
Identity-relevant, emotionally charged or deliberately reasoned thoughts may feel especially “mine.”
Deepening Inquiry: When the next “my thought” appears, what actually marks it as mine—a quality within the thought, a bodily sensation, or another thought claiming ownership?

I sometimes use the passive voice or otherwise (re)construct a sentence to avoid the use of “I,” and this does feel a bit like an attempt at disidentification from a sense of “I,” as well as being performative, but it usually feels a little artificial and forced (besides that the editor often can’t help cringing at the passive voice).

There’s no need to eliminate “I.” It is a useful grammatical convention, not proof of an entity. Forced language can turn no-self into a performance—and offend the entirely innocent editor.
Use natural language, then examine what “I” is assumed to refer to.
Deepening Inquiry: Compare “I decided” with “A decision happened.” Does changing the sentence change the actual experiencing—or only the story describing it? i know that you have done this before, but see if it lands differently now.

and then there’s the use of scare quotes for “I,” “me,” “my,” “mine,” “myself,” “self.” In some cases, that’s partially performative, but I think it’s also generally manifesting at least a cognitive recognition of what I’m wanting to fully grok. (It’s interesting that I initially just wrote “wanting to grok” in that last sentence and then revised it to “wanting to fully grok,” perhaps in part to fend off comments from you or my brain about the “already” nature of awakeness but also because it felt more accurate.)

Scare quotes can be useful training wheels: they mark that these words are conventions, not discovered entities. But they can also display disidentification without producing it.
“Fully grok” seems to point toward biological assimilation, not merely cognitive recognition. Yet it may also imagine a future K who finally possesses awakening.
Deepening Inquiry: What, precisely, would be different if this were “fully grokked”—and who would know that completion had occurred?

vince

Deepening Inquiry: When the next “my thought” appears, what actually marks it as mine—a quality within the thought, a bodily sensation, or another thought claiming ownership?

Didn’t figure I’d need to wait more than a few seconds for another “my thought” to appear, but of course, I’ve found that awaiting the next thought is a good way to calm my thoughts down. I suppose a “my thought” just arose that was involved in formulating these sentences, but let’s try again . . .

Well, this is kind of entertaining. It’s hard to catch a “my thought” in the act. Just sitting here quietly for a moment, I mostly noticed perceptions and putting my experience into words (for you or me or maybe just because), and putting stuff into words doesn’t feel too much like “my” thinking but more like a thing my brain is inclined to do.

Will come back to this later . . .

Forced language can turn no-self into a performance—and offend the entirely innocent editor.

Yes, poor dear. Don’t need to offend her like that.

Use natural language, then examine what “I” is assumed to refer to.

OK, yeah. I like that suggestion. And that’s what I’ve been doing with “I am not awake.”

Deepening Inquiry: Compare “I decided” with “A decision happened.” Does changing the sentence change the actual experiencing—or only the story describing it? i know that you have done this before, but see if it lands differently now.

Hmm . . . I thought I should come up with a little example in the moment, i.e., actually “make a decision.” So: I decided to sit up straighter. Then: I decided to turn my head to the right. But then I get caught up in noticing how physical movements seem more or less simultaneous with the “decision” to move (and I suppose a brain scan would reveal that the “decision” came after the movement), and where did that particular “decision” come from anyway? But what was the question I was trying to answer? . . .
“I decided to move my head” vs. “A decision to move my head happened.”
“Just happened” certainly seems more accurate.
But the question was, “Does changing the sentence change the actual experiencing—or only the story describing it?”
Well, the sentence is describing it after the fact, so I don’t see how it could change the actual experiencing of it? And yet, I feel like if I go about my day with the assumption or background narration that “I decided” things, that would give an overall different feel to what I’m doing? Maybe? Am I missing the point of the question?

“Fully grok” seems to point toward biological assimilation, not merely cognitive recognition. Yet it may also imagine a future K who finally possesses awakening.

Probably more the latter, I’m afraid.

Deepening Inquiry: What, precisely, would be different if this were “fully grokked”—

What I imagine would be different: Freedom from feeling like I’m still looking for something? Greater ease and peace and lightness? Um . . .
Now headed into petulant toddler mode and tearfulness (which has been perhaps somewhat less frequent recently?): Something better!!! A quantum leap in feeling less embattled by life? A noticeably different way of perceiving “self” and reality? I don’t know, but something!

and who would know that completion had occurred?

Still in tearful petulant toddler mode: Me!!!
OK, trying again as a reflective grown-up: Um . . . Whatever it is that’s aware of the sense perceptions and thoughts connected specifically with the body/mind known as K? But supposedly there isn’t such a thing as “awareness” separate from the experiencing (or at least that’s the way of talking about all this that I’ve decided to stick with), and in any case, I seem to have no direct access to such a thing, so . . . . um . . . Maybe “who would know” is the ever-changing pattern of perceptions and thoughts known as K? Um . . . but what would it mean for that to “know” something? Uh . . . the pattern of perceptions and thoughts would include a lot fewer unhappy thoughts? I don’t know! Ugh.

I feel like I approached that question wrong. It probably should’ve been taken as yet another pointer to look where I seem to think there’s a “me” and see yet again that I only find a bunch of thoughts and perceptions, rather than getting into some philosophical quandary about how “knowing” happens or what it entails exactly.

Getting tired of all this.

Usually, I’m pleased to get questions from you, probably based on an assumption that doing all this is helping me to get “closer” to “seeing” — even though I understand that “closer” doesn’t entirely make sense (though maybe it kind of does in a relative sense) given that THIS is always right here (and the Southern school of Chan in China, which said awakening was “sudden,” was less wrong or misleading than the Northern school, which said it was “gradual”).

And part of my brain is going, “Maybe vince will tell me that this is a good sign that I’m getting tired of all this.”
And then “I” (this thought felt more like “mine” than the previous one) wonder if I want affirmation for making “progress” in starting to give up on making progress.
And while I was typing that, the thought arose, “Okay, there was an example of a thought that felt more like ‘mine,’ so what was that earlier question again?”
Right: What marks it as “mine”?
Um . . . Not sure. Maybe that it’s an evaluation or corollary of the previous thought, which felt more like it just appeared? Maybe that there’s a little more emotion connected with it?

And again: *Sigh.* I’m getting sick of all this.

Just for fun, right now: “Ahhh . . . okay, then.”
Shoulders relax. Chest opens up a little, but still some tightness there.
See what’s actually in front of me.
Cool air blowing on me.
Music heard (coffee shop playlist), slightly muffled by earphones stuffed into ears specifically to muffle sounds. Sounds of baristas talking and using machines.
Mouth and jaw a little tight.
One more time: “Ahhh . . . okay, then.”
See clouds. Bright sun reflecting off of hood, windshield, and roof of car in parking lot.
Feel of sweatshirt on my arms.
Still some tightness in mouth, jaw, throat, chest.
This is all okay.

i'm too tired to respond tonight.

❤️

vince

No problem, of course! And I already got lots of your attention on Zoom during your Monday. :-) But thank you for your note.

Anyhow, my grades for my summer school class are due today, so now I have less temptation to procrastinate by spending my morning work time writing an LU post.

But I did have one little thought I wanted share:
The next time I teach this course, I might want to redo my video on the story of the Buddha to reflect a clearer understanding of why he sat there under that tree for so long wondering how he could possibly teach what he'd seen. How do you help other people grok that it's just THIS?!

The past several days, I’d finally gotten to a reasonable place with my grading, which perhaps contributed to my ability, a couple of times, to relax into reality and find it all okay, at least momentarily. Then, minutes after I submitted my summer grades today, my boss for my editing job emailed me to see if I could do some work. Shite and onions! I mean, I’d told him I’d be available again after today, but I was hoping for a little break. Plus, I also need to get going on preparing my fall class, which starts in just over two weeks.

So I was starting to feel oppressed and miserable, to what seems like an excessive degree, and after not too long, that spawned the “I need to wake up” story. But then I remembered that I’m trying to set that story aside (and was proud of myself for remembering that). And I remembered that when that sort of thing arises, I can, instead, attend to what’s actually here, and I can also deconstruct the story, starting with the “I.” I didn’t actually do either of those things. I got caught up in eating lunch and then visiting with a friend who dropped by. But it seems like maybe just recognizing that “I need to wake up” is a story and remembering that I have a couple of things filed to do when I notice it helped to defuse it a bit and reduce the oppressed feelings. Or maybe the distractions were the main thing. But, no, actually, I think recognizing the story as a story I'm setting aside did help immediately.

(I considered revising some of the sentences in the paragraph above to replace “I remembered” with “thoughts arose” and that sort of thing, but decided not to.)

Incidentally, I mentioned the “Ahhh . . . okay, this” thing to my husband yesterday or the day before, and this morning he asked me to remind him what it was. Just thought you’d like to know that it seemed helpful to someone else too.