The Gold Is Already Here
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A student describes glimpsing the simplicity of presence during meditation, then losing it in everyday activity. The teacher investigates what causes this covering-up, pointing to the habit of projecting meaning into the future.
The Gold Is Already Here
A student describes glimpsing the simplicity of presence during meditation, then losing it in everyday activity. The teacher investigates what causes this covering-up, pointing to the habit of projecting meaning into the future.
During the meditation, I had a clear sense that it's a process of removal. I think it started with the phrase "the meaning of life is the breath." I could feel that, and I could feel how, when I'm not connected to it, it's only because there's stuff over top. It's surprising to me how quickly those layers can accumulate. But I really did have a sense of: oh, it's that simple.
Ask yourself: when these layers accumulate over top, why is that happening?
It tends to happen subconsciously. For example, I've noticed when I'm cooking, I can start out relaxed. "Okay, I think I'm going to make this." But then, quickly, as I'm pulling stuff out of the fridge and chopping things, especially if I turn on the heat before I'm prepped, I start to get really anxious. I notice my body tightening up.
The experiment of full responsibility
Why is it happening? Take the memory of that experience of cooking, which you've probably had many times. Go into it fully. See if you can perceive what's happening. You're describing anxiety, contraction. What is that? Why is that happening?
And avoid one thing: don't say "there's something unconscious that activates, and I don't know what it is, and then I contract, and I don't have access to it." Assume it's completely visible to you. Assume you're one hundred percent responsible for it. From that perspective, go back to what you just described and see if you can understand what's happened.
This is related to what you brought up about the meaning of life. There's something happening in that process that covers over the meaning of life.
No, that's not it.
Okay. What is it? I'm really going to try not to tell you. I'll share my perspective and my understanding, but I think it would be really valuable if you can see it yourself.
If I can see what, again?
Can you see what is happening when you go from "the meaning of life is the breath" to cooking and then you're anxious, contracted, feeling it in your body? What is happening? Because you said in the meditation you really felt "it's that simple," and then it gets covered. I asked you what this covering is, and you described the experience of cooking. So let's go there. Become a scientist of this situation you experience repeatedly and try to understand what exactly is happening. You're cooking, and then something happens, which you described as covering up this simplicity.
Well, the story that came into my head just now is that at some point I developed a response. A response of not being able to be calm and collected and clear and in control while also being able to get stuff done. Those two feel at odds. So there's this habitual overwhelm, this distracted, discursive quality.
Seeing what you're doing, not analyzing the condition
I'm kind of giggling because that's exactly what I was suggesting you try not to do. When you said "it's really simple," the thing that just occurred to you is not as simple. You're saying it's driving a habit, a conditioning, something you can't control. It starts to become something outside of your hands. It happened in the past, and now it's a habit. But it's actually the other way around: it's something you're doing that then conditions you.
What you describe, that you can't be either calm or productive, that these are at odds, is a pretty common thing. You're developing an interpretation around it: something unusual and special about you, something that happened to you. You don't know why or how; it's a conditioning from the past.
Assume, just for this experiment, that it's not related to the past. It's not a conditioning. It's something you are doing. You're responsible. You're doing it at the moment it's happening, and you can undo it just like that.
Imagine I hold my hand in a tight fist for twenty minutes. I can say, "Well, my hand is cramped. Something happened." It starts to feel like, "This sucks. This is happening to me." And then I realize: actually, I'm the one who's clenching.
You're cooking, you're getting anxious, your body's tightening, and you think somebody is doing that to you. You're a victim of this tightening. There's a puppeteer pulling your strings. But I'm saying: you are the puppeteer.
I was going to say there's an abdication of responsibility involved in thinking that way.
That's why I said you're responsible. But let's start the experiment assuming it's happening right now. You're doing it. You're responsible. What is it?
Because again, you went to "something I do is that I have a thing around responsibility and abdication of responsibility," and then you get into an analysis of this condition you have. You're rationalizing the condition. Therefore you're a victim of this thing. I'm saying you're just doing something. What is it?
Well, okay. It just occurred to me to ask: does it matter? And instead of doing this (clenching), could I just do this (releasing)? In other words, I have had moments where I've gone into the kitchen and treated it as a meditation.
Yes, it matters. That's why I'm focusing on it. And yes, you can just release. But first you need to see what the clenching is. I want you to realize what this thing is, what the cause of this cramping and closing is.
There's something you're doing when you cook. Stay close to the experience and the memory of it. You start completely fine, you begin cooking, and then the cramping starts happening. What is happening in this activation of doing something that the contracting begins? And it's related to what you brought up: you said, "I saw it's really simple. It's just breathing." And then it gets covered up with all this stuff. The cooking is your example. What's happening?
It has to do with the meaning of life. The meaning of life is the breath, and then what happens?
Maybe I have a feeling, a belief, that I'm not worthy of experiencing the meaning of life.
Where the meaning of life gets relocated
It's simpler. "The meaning of life is the breath" is a pointer, a metaphor. But what it basically refers to is this: what is valuable, what I'm looking for, what has meaning, what it's all about, is already here. It's happening right now. It's present.
When one says "the meaning of life is the breath" and realizes how true that is and how simple, it means the meaning of life is always given, because I'm here and there's breath happening. Nothing else is needed for the meaning of life to be fulfilled.
Then you say it gets covered up, it gets lost. So the question, which is almost a trick question because it's that simple, is: what is the covering?
All it is, and this is what I'm getting at, is that very quickly what sets in is a decision to attribute the meaning of life to something else.
This is really key for human beings. When you try to do something and be proactive, immediately the meaning of life becomes the fulfillment of that. The meaning of life becomes: when the food is ready and I can eat it. Or whatever I'm looking for. We project the satisfaction into the outcome. In Buddhism, they speak of releasing the attachment to the outcome of your actions. It has to do with this. You quickly latch onto a belief that the meaning, the fulfillment, the satisfaction, is in the moment when the food is done and you're ready to eat it. "Then I will be fulfilled. Then this will be satisfied."
Another way people point to this is the expression "the journey is the reward." My teacher used to say, el camino es la meta, which is basically a translation of the same thing. It points to what every spiritual teaching points to: presence.
But I was trying to be really specific so that you'd notice there's a shift in you. I might be wrong, but I don't think so. There is this really quick settling into a state where now is no longer okay. Things will be fulfilled when I finish this action, when I finish this task, when I get the food ready, when I'm eating it. Or even: when I'm done eating, because then I can do this other thing. There's this projection into an image in time, into our imagination of a future moment when this thing I'm working towards happens. Then I will be satisfied.
In a sense, there's an ignoring of the knowing that meaning and satisfaction are in the breath, are now.
The gold in the breath
What happens is that the knowing you had in the meditation, "Oh, it's just the breath, it's that simple," is a glimpse of truth. But we quickly ignore it, or we aren't deeply enough affected by its impact and value. So we have to see it, and see it more and more deeply.
The pull from the mind to identify the meaning of life in the meal, in getting the job, in whatever else, is so strong that it robs us. When you saw "it's in the breath," you felt like you found a tiny little golden nugget. "Wow, there's gold here! I didn't know. In the breath there's gold, there are diamonds. Tiny, but amazing." But then you imagine finishing the meal, and you imagine a huge diamond there. A kilo of gold when you get the house, when you get the job.
So we're comparing this tiny golden nugget in the breath, in presence, in the moment, with this huge piece of gold we're imagining when we arrive at some future destination. Even a smaller one: finishing the meal is still more gold than the little piece of beautiful gold in the present now.
What can happen over time is that we start to realize the gold we imagine actually doesn't exist. We can get the job, we get the house, and that imagined gold is actually zero, nothing real. The gold in the present moment is everything. It's all made of gold.
Hmm.
But this is what needs to be seen for yourself. There is no gold anywhere other than now, and what is now is all gold. The gold is in the sound, the gold is in the breath, the gold is in sensations, in sight, in thought. But it's not in the imagination of the future where that huge thing of gold supposedly exists. In fact, we first need to imagine that the gold is here in the present for it to seem like it's over there.
The glimpse and the forgetting
The glimpses we talk about in this work are this realizing, which you had: "Oh, it's so simple. There's something here in the breath. It's satisfying, it's beautiful, it's lovely." But then that's just a tiny golden nugget. You forget about it, or it becomes a memory: "Yeah, there was some gold, something in the breath. But look at that piece of gold over there, in my fantasy of when I get the job, or the relationship, or whatever."
And it's not only about some huge goal in the distant future. We're imagining these things constantly. Right now, in the next five minutes, this thing is going to happen, and I'm working towards it, and when I get there, then it's going to be gold.
Then we might arrive. You might get the meal finished. You eat it, and there's this "Ahh, see? I was right. It's so satisfying." You conclude that the gold you knew was in the meal is confirmed. But actually, you're just in sensation. You're in breathing. You're in the moment. You're in the present. And then you think, "My strategy works." No. You just took a break from projecting. The gold is in presence.
Gold is everywhere, even in the difficulty
The more you see that, the more, while you're cooking, there's gold. While you're eating, there's gold. While you're stressing out, there's gold. While you're confused, there's gold. While you're hurting, there's gold. And a lot of the stressing out, the confusion, the hurting actually dissipates, because ninety-nine percent of it is created by this looking for it somewhere else.
This connects to the metaphor of the acquired taste. You didn't like drinking wine at first, and then you taste good wine, and wine becomes "Wow." It took a while to realize how amazing it is. What that means is: it takes a while to realize where the value is.