The Blanket Over What Is Already Here
La manta sobre lo que ya está aquí
A student describes a recurring pattern in meditation: a persistent voice of doubt that evaluates experience against imagined ideals, and the teacher points toward what that mechanism is actually helping to avoid.
The Blanket Over What Is Already Here
A student describes a recurring pattern in meditation: a persistent voice of doubt that evaluates experience against imagined ideals, and the teacher points toward what that mechanism is actually helping to avoid.
There's something that's been happening in my practice, and I was curious about it. I have hunches based on things I've read, but I thought I would ask.
I can drop into a place, what you might call natural meditation. Sometimes a book will do it, sometimes a cue will do it. Usually in meditation I move in and out of that spot where I'm just here. There's chatter, but it's not dominating. I'm not sucked into it or subject to it, and I wouldn't say I'm denying it either.
Sometimes there's a vivid quality to it, a sharper quality to the visual field, whether eyes are open or closed. It can also be quite painful. I'll sometimes do this while running, and that's very painful physically. There can be quite a bit of turmoil in terms of the various voices popping off and having things to say. Sometimes it's not that way; sometimes it's very relaxed.
But one thing that consistently happens is a restlessness, a constant assertion that this is not the spot, this is not the thing to be doing, you're doing it wrong. And it's evident because this is not what I'm expecting. That slight vividness and feeling more present doesn't match descriptions I've read. There's still duality. There are still qualities present that don't match other people's descriptions of something further along. I think of it as maybe the natural state with a bunch of blankets on it.
But that voice, I don't know how to handle it. There's a sense in which maybe there is something I'm not attending to, maybe there is something I need to adjust. On the other hand, I've read and heard that this voice of "this is not it" is itself an obstacle to just being here, because it can bounce you out into planning and figuring out. Does what I'm describing make sense?
Yes. Things usually have both sides. You're doing a regular practice and finding a certain deepening in what you're describing as luminosity or the visual field, and something that's more present. But then the narrative kicks in. What you're describing would more technically be called a hindrance: doubt.
The habit of matching and disqualifying
Over time, if you keep doing this practice, you're going to be deepening. But the thing to look at is this: when you're saying "this isn't it," there's a whole massive interpretation behind that. You have an idea of duality and non-duality. So first consider that you cannot imagine what it is like. You cannot match a current experience with an idea of what it is like and try to test or evaluate it. More deeply, you cannot not be non-duality. So it's always going to be the illusion that something is happening, and it's really a mental thing.
When you're having that narrative, all that is needed is that you look more closely at it. If you're finding a certain stability in your practice where something is more calm, more present, it's going to give you more room and space to look more deeply and more subtly. But when those narratives take over, you've in a sense given up the subtle looking. If the narrative becomes a thing that feels real, you've gone on the train.
I was with you on all of that until you said to investigate or observe the doubt. There's a secondary process there: this is my experience, this is what I've read, and it's trying to figure out if there's a mapping.
That's what I was addressing at the beginning, this idea that you can imagine what it's like. You can read it in a book, create an image of what it's like, and then try to match it with a current experience or even try to get there. All of that is not going to work.
Reading things and hearing descriptions can help on the side of what I call trust. It can give you a sense that there is something more, a different possibility that's available. But beyond that, any imagination of what it is will be wrong. It's not going to be it, because the only way you can imagine what it is, is through a mental construction.
You cannot imagine what is beyond imagination
There's simply no way for you to imagine something that's not in the realm of imagination or thinking. It's natural that the mind tries to understand, tries to create an image. But I've been doing this work for decades, listening to teachers, reading books. I did not ever imagine it. That was one of the big revelations: I was so wrong imagining what it was. It was so different, so off.
Whatever shift I'm talking about, which I don't fully understand, there is a shift, and there may be more. But there is a significant shift, and you cannot imagine it. You cannot create an understanding of it through a book. It doesn't necessarily hurt, but I'm telling you to go more deeply and first realize that anything you imagine is going to be completely false. If you're practicing and trying to match, you're going to be matching an interpretation of a current state with an interpretation of books and teachers, comparing two interpretations.
I've noticed that as things have gotten deeper, there have been things that I later recognized as what's described in certain texts, but it's not what I expected. Minor versions of what you're saying. But when I find myself in this position, there's this matching habit, this "this is not it" habit, and then a meditation-planning habit that's trying to decide: do I just rest here, or do I need to do something different, like inquiry or investigating these voices that are getting louder?
The two habits you're describing are actually one habit. The habit of matching and the habit of "this is not it" are the same thing. If you match, the conclusion is always "this is not it." I would suggest you consider that this process is undertaken with the intention for it to fail.
Well, almost like it will always say "this is not it."
A mechanism designed to be dissatisfied
Exactly. But that's a superficial mechanism, a mind thing: evaluate and disqualify, evaluate and disqualify, and get really smart at it. "This is what it should be like. It's not it. This is what it should be like. It's not it." That is one mechanism whose nature is designed for it to be dissatisfied. The more energy you put into it, the more it feeds the cycle. It's just not going to work, because it starts from the premise that you can match an understanding of what it should be like with a current experience.
What "this is it" actually refers to is always what is happening now, no matter what. So these are completely different levels. One is evaluating a current experience against an idea of how it should be. The nature of that process is to disqualify what is happening, to say no to what is happening.
The habit is just never going to say yes. I understand another sense now in which something can be beyond conception. So that seems like one of the blankets, although I can coexist with it even while it's popping off.
That could be the only blanket you need to focus on right now, because it's huge. You're trying to get to the next one, but this one is really big. If you just look into this one, it can take you really far.
Okay, this is helpful, but let me push back a little. I'm here, right? And there's this thick blanket. I can't breathe. I can either just rest here and be annoyed with it as it comes and goes, or I can inquire. I can poke at it, observe it, ask what it is, rest with that. I'm curious whether you think there's a good thread to follow. I'm not saying I have to choose one thing or the other all the time. I'm thinking methodologically.
What the mechanism is protecting you from
The methodology I would suggest, given what we're talking about, is this. You are very intelligently putting energy into figuring out what the end goal of meditation is. Anything you can imagine, anything you can understand from reading or listening to teachers, all of that is going to create an image of a certain kind of mental, emotional, experiential state. You might say, "No, I'm not imagining a state," but whatever you're imagining is going to be something you can conceive of. By nature, that is not it.
So that's the pointer I'm offering you. It's not it, and it never will be. Now the other part: why is this evaluation, this process of trying to figure out, happening? Because you're wanting to get there. You're wanting to not be where you are and get to that. You can have all kinds of justifications. It feels like the right thing to do, a legitimate process of meditation. There's always a drive that, to ourselves, feels honorable, feels like we're working on this the right and appropriate way. But the underlying question is: how do I not be here and get there?
It gets a little tail-chasing, doesn't it? Because being here can also involve investigation.
Yes, but I'm pointing to a very specific thing. By creating an image of where you should get to and believing in it and investing energy in it, you create the other side, which is the "this is not it." You're creating a mini duality world. The only way you can compare two things is by imagining two things.
So, yes, you can take this and sit with it and inquire. That's important, because this mechanism seems to be habitual, and it's going to arise when you sit. But there's a more fundamental aspect: why is this happening? Why is your energy going into that? What's motivating it? There is an agenda, and to us it seems like we're doing the right thing. But it's actually a form of escaping. In a deeper place, in a deeper current-moment experience, there is something like: I don't want to be here. I don't want to feel this. If you want a direction, see if that's true for you.
See if that avoidant tendency is there, that tendency to turn away.
There are two aspects. One is that you can look more closely at this mechanism and see it for what it is. The other is that you're going to be battling an energy if you only look at the mechanism, because there's going to be an underlying motive that says: keep it going, keep it going, keep it going. That drive is saying: don't feel this.
I'm trying not to say what it is, because it might be different for you, but it's going to be some form of emptiness, or a fear, or a pain. It could be loneliness. I'm not sure what it is for you, and you might already know. But it's going to be something where, at a deeper level, it feels like: I'd rather be involved in this dissatisfying mechanism, because this restless movement of "this isn't it, this isn't it, it should be like this, I'm trying to get there" is going to be more comfortable than what the mechanism is helping you stay away from.
The howling behind the door
There's definitely something. If I relax into the present too far, there's a howling, scary thing. I say "howling" because it's like you open the door a little bit and you hear it, and then you open the door more and you're like, "oh no."
That's exactly what I'm talking about. That is what you're trying to avoid with all of this. And if you notice now what's happening inside of you, that is more real. It's not the endpoint either, but that's the direction.
I can hold that. The direction is good. But why would I want to do that? You're a terrible salesman.
Because this work is really about the end of us, the end of what we think, believe, and feel that we are. I'm not saying anything new. Every tradition says this in some way or another.
It's amazing how things I thought were saying different stuff now all seem to be pointing in the same direction. It's really strange.
Groundedness first, then deeper
It's not something to rush into. It's all about timing. At first, it's good to practice mindfulness, to find a place of calm and a certain groundedness, because you can't go to where I'm pointing without that foundation. Then it's going to be a back-and-forth. You're going to be able to go toward that fear a bit more, be with it a bit more, and then your practice of grounding is going to get deeper, and then you go further. Back and forth.
If you look at the texts, there are always rewards along the way that keep you motivated. There will be moments of rapture and opening and peace, but then they're going to go away. That taste is going to keep you going deeper, motivate you to go deeper.
That's why I say that fear is just what's next for you, what's there. You described it clearly as fear. And then the question is: fear of what? Not for you to answer intellectually, but for you to experience, to feel into. When you have a bit of time with that fear, something else might move.
In a sense, it's an acquired taste. What would it be like to be you when you can move through that fear and be without it? What's beyond it? It's highly recommended.
If I were to say it very bluntly: everything you're doing is to avoid going there, and to manage how you work around it. In a sense, you're preparing to be able to go there more. And you can take all the time you want. There's no pressure.
It's helpful. It confirms and disconfirms different tendencies for me. I appreciate your thoughts.
I would also say this is something to celebrate. This is successful practice.
That's hilarious. For me, it's been like a fear ladder. There is a progressive quality to it. It's terrifying, and then: okay, let's sit in this hot water for a while.
Fear becomes a flavor
Exactly. It's like getting into a hot tub. You want to get in slowly, and after a while you need to get out. But our whole body, mind, and what we are becomes more and more able to be with it, to the point where the fear is no longer fear anymore. It becomes one of the flavors in life, like a flavor in the buffet of living. It really is like that. It stops being this horrible thing we're trying to avoid.
You wrote about that. Pain is love, that sort of thing.
Consider it an acquired taste, with the suggestion that it's worth it. A lot of it is literally like looking under the bed to see if there's a monster.
I've seen my cats do that. They walk around something and stare at it for a while.
The point is that once you see what's there, the fear changes. It might be that you feel some form of grief, and then the fear is no longer necessary. I'm not saying this is how it's going to be or how it should be, because it's very different for everyone at any given time. But that kind of thing. The grief might be the difficult thing, and the fear is just what happens in the beginning. Then you're able to move through it. And the same thing happens with the grief: it's very difficult at first, and then it becomes sweet. On and on.
But there's always something that we are trying to not experience right now. That restless movement I describe in the meditations, that mechanism, is trying to help us avoid it.
When I say we have the belief that we're something that we're not, the ending of that belief isn't like, "Oh, I don't believe that anymore." It's a process that feels like what we would expect it to be like to die, because the mind is going to project all of its ideas about what dying is like, and the body might activate that kind of response as well. Some people go through this in small installments. I think Francis Lucille described it as mortgage payments: a little bit here, a little bit there, and then eventually all the payments are done. For some, it happens more like an upfront payment. But that really is very mysterious. I don't think anybody has much control or choice over how it unfolds.