The Peace That Feels Boring
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A student describes a transition period in which deep peace arises during meditation but feels dull and uninteresting, prompting the teacher to explore what lies beneath the label of boredom and how the sense of self transforms during such thresholds.
The Peace That Feels Boring
A student describes a transition period in which deep peace arises during meditation but feels dull and uninteresting, prompting the teacher to explore what lies beneath the label of boredom and how the sense of self transforms during such thresholds.
At this point, it's quite clear. In a sense, I feel fully into this subjectivity, which is a very subtle sensation. Somehow it's noticed, and yet it's seen very clearly. It doesn't change with any effort. I get the point: it's simply not possible to change, and this sense of subjectivity is still felt. And when you see so clearly that it cannot change, it somehow feels okay. It's there, and it's there, just like the laptop appears. It appears in the same way. This is the point I'm at.
And do you experience a sense of something missing or being subtly wrong?
It's simply recognizing that I feel stuck, somehow. There's a position that is still relating to thought, and there is a lot of recognition that it is just appearing, like all objects appear.
And in the meditation, how is the sense of experience in the moment for you? Let's say the feeling tone. Is there a sense of peacefulness, or love, or beauty, or something like that?
It's like the sound I mentioned before, somewhere in the air, louder near my ears, and I keep choosing it. It's very peaceful, choosing it. But now it's starting to feel different. It feels very boring, really boring. It's not something I like. It's peaceful, there's a lot of peace, but it's really dull, and there's dislike in there.
There's a dislike in there?
Yes. It's the type of peace that I don't like, but it's a lot of peace. It's very blank, no flavor. That sort of peace. And when I choose it, to start off it's this full, flowing peace, and then it gets boring. It feels very boring, and then I slip into thought. Then I just come back to it when I realize I'm in thought. That's what my experience with the meditation has been.
What boredom conceals
My sense is that the experience of boredom has an emotional component to it. There's a resistance. When we call something boring, it's a way to rationalize that there's something deeper happening. For example, there could be a fear, a restlessness, or an anxiety.
So notice: if you have that sense of boredom and then go into thought, the boredom rationalizes the going into thought. You can say, "Well, this is boring, there's nothing here. I'll go back to the habit of thought." But potentially, if you stay in this place that you're calling boring, there's a discomfort there, and you can refine your understanding of it. Something else gets to shift.
The transition between old and new
Often what's happening, and my sense with you is this, is that you're in a transition. It's very tricky. All the mechanisms want to go back into a type of contraction, a type of identification. Until the new becomes the normal, there's going to be a bit of a back and forth.
I would suggest looking for what's actually happening when you call it boring. Notice if there might be a subtle fear or a subtle restlessness, because what you're touching could completely transform you, and a part of us is going to be, in a sense, in danger from that transformation.
Yes, it's fear. I have seen it. From this sense of fear, there is this resistance to the here and now. What I am truly recognizing is that this sense cannot be changed. I truly see that it comes up appearing like every other object, like the laptop appearing. It appears. I feel like I have tried all the tools: seeing it fully, feeling it, recognizing it fully. Nothing I do can change it. It cannot be changed. I'm just at this point now, where it's appearing just like everything else.
That's a success, in a sense.
Yes. And by seeing it truly, there is less and less of a reaction to this sense of fear, this sense of subjectivity. At this point it just gets slightly better, because I have experienced a couple of times just watching them go. It feels like, "Oh, they've gone," and there's a bit of a break.
I missed that word. It feels like something…
It feels like something left. And I can see that nothing physically, nothing in any way, has changed. It's just something not so annoying that goes by itself. I have experienced a couple of times where that heavy sense just goes by itself, and I couldn't have done anything to make it go. So at this point, it is just realizing that they cannot be changed. They're just there, like the sky appears. I can't make the sky appear. You just get to this point of clearly recognizing. And truly, there is just no one doing, no one changing.
Let it change you
Let it change you. As you recognize you're in a transition, what can happen is that you are transitioning partly into a way of being that is what's called effortless. Over time you can start to recognize this, though it takes a bit of time, because the body and mind change. There are changes in the mechanism, in the biology, in the brain.
What can start to happen is that the experience or the habit of what felt right and good still pulls. But you start to recognize it actually isn't that right and doesn't feel that good. What actually feels good was previously felt as not good. There was a fear around it. What's changing is the understanding of what actually is good, what actually feels right, what we're actually wanting.
As that changes, you're in a transition, and there's a back and forth. But you can start to see, for example, that which felt boring and which carried fear, over time you can start to recognize, if I put words to it, that it's actually much more delicious. But it takes time until you can appreciate it in that way. It's very subtle. Then, because of a directness, you start to naturally gravitate toward it. You don't have to force that. You don't have to practice it in a deliberate sense. What you need to do is recognize, more and more, that it's actually a lot tastier than what you thought to be good.
What I think is happening is that my nature is constantly recognizing itself. It cannot settle in any definition, any idea of what I am. At any point, if I pick up an idea about what awareness is, this subjectivity becomes much stronger. My sense of subjectivity has become so sensitive that sometimes even when I listen to a talk or listen to you, I get a sense of resistance: "This is not it. That is not true." The truth is constantly recognizing itself, and no one else can say anything about what it is, what I am.
Noticing the contraction of concepts
When that appears, the habit of an idea about what you are or what this is, you start to recognize it. What also matters is that you start to notice the experience of that subtle contraction. You do notice that it's actually not that good.
Yes. What I also picked up is that this reality notices everything. It doesn't notice what is subject or object.
Exactly.
Yet somehow there is a noticing of this subjectivity.
At this point, you could almost not bother too much with it. Just give it time.
Yes. Thank you.
What about when, say, I'm journaling or something? I'm writing my thoughts and experiences on paper. It feels as if, I guess, maybe that's more subtle than just gross sensation. I hear what you're saying, and I will take that and practice it. But with something like writing, how can I not be, well, I get that it's the thoughts that are writing themselves, but it still feels like there's someone in here that's choosing what words to use and what concepts to expand on. Or when to just stop writing.
The problem with "in here"
That's fine. It's just that there are subtle misinterpretations, which are fine unless you want to keep inquiring further. Since you're here, I will suggest: when you say there is something choosing "in here," the "in here" is the problem. If you look at what that means and what the reality of it is, you won't find it.
In where? Because if you say "in here," everything you are knowing you would have to refer to as "in here." There is nothing that's not in here. The whole notion of "in here" makes no sense. If everything is in here, what is this "here" that it's in?
Sure, choosing happens. It's totally fine to say, "I am choosing." The problem is the misunderstanding about what the "I" is. It's making the "I" into something that I know, and the "in here" starts to create that something. This part is "in here," that part is "out there," so now I start defining the boundaries of something that is the "I," where some things are appearing and happening within it and some are not. For example, sensations coming from touching a table: that which I then label as "table" is out there. The sound that appears through my voice is out there. Whereas if you have inner dialogue, it's sound that's "in here." All of this "out there" and "in here" is fiction. Find the boundary of the "in here" and the "out there." Where does it end and begin? It's all in here.
The more you start to look at this, you will come to something you might express, as others have expressed, that there is no one. But that's also just a phrase, and it might be confusing. It's not an absolute truth; it's just words. What matters is that you start to recognize and clarify what it is that you are. A lot of that is seeing what you thought you were that you're not. You're not something that has an edge where things are outside and some are inside. You could say that about the body, but then if you're convinced you are the body, we can work on that specifically.
As for the choice: you could say, "Yes, I am choosing," but look at how the choosing happens. You don't have to throw out the choosing. The reality of choice is that choice does happen, and you can say "I choose." The issue is: what's the nature of "I"?
Right. The choosing is more so happening because of the programs and intentions that are running from the past. And I'm just observing that.
The mystery of unconditioned choice
Not necessarily. That's a paradigm about choosing, conditioned choosing. What if a choice comes out of nowhere, unrelated to the past, unconditioned? Why is that not possible? And where does it come from, if it comes in that way?
Yes, some choice comes from conditioned mechanisms. But what is the nature of that which chooses? Assume a choice happens that is unconditioned, coming out of nowhere, without any relationship to any past or conditioning. What is the nature of that which chose? Is it a body? Is it a mind? Is it a thought process? Or does it start to look like something very mysterious, where you don't know what it is?
The choice is known. Does it have a location where it happened, an origin, an entity where it came from? Not really. We then attach the entity that we have constructed to the choosing and say, "I am this, and this is what I am choosing." You can then say, "That which I am is conditioned, so I can't choose, so everything is deterministic, I have no free will," and so on. More belief systems.
Consider this example. If you had to choose between a glass of champagne or a glass of urine to drink, what would you choose? Most people would choose the champagne. Now yes, you could say it's because of the body and the mind and the conditioning: one tastes better, the other doesn't. But there are other choices that are less extreme, more neutral, and still there is something that appears as a preference. The experience is that a choice happens. But if you look at it, it is also appearing; it's inevitable. And in the moment that the choosing happens, we could be confused around the choice for a long time, pondering. But the moment the choice actually happens, it's really mysterious.
The whole point I'm making is that the moment you start knowing, in the sense that you could write it down in a book, what it is that chooses and how the mechanism of choice works, that's when the problem starts. By the problem, I mean that which leads to suffering, because it's the construction of an entity, of a nature that is not what we then attribute it to be. The entity that we could call the ego: we attribute to it a reality that it doesn't have. It has a function, it has a use, it has a value, but it's not the source of "I." The source of that which we call "I" isn't ego.
The unicorn and the construction of self
I'm trying to be careful and precise here, because the point is not to then think the ego doesn't exist, that it's not real and therefore has to be gotten rid of. Something appears. What's the reality of it?
For example, would you say a unicorn is real?
Not technically.
And yet, if we all understand enough language and speak English, we all know what I'm referring to. There is an intersubjective agreement about what a unicorn is. We could probably all draw one to some degree. So there's a certain reality to a unicorn. It's real as an imaginary animal. When you said "technically," you meant as a biological being roaming the planet. But that's just one condition. Is it real as a biological being roaming the planet? Probably not. Is it real as a thought construct? Yes. Its reality is the reality of thought.
It's also intersubjective thought.
Yes. It's not just my own private creation. It's something that has been shared through humanity and has become part of the mythology and the language. There's a lot of energy behind the unicorn, the reality of it, and it becomes a thing.
Now imagine we are on a planet where the most important thing is unicorns, to the point that that's all we are. We are taught from very young that that's what we are, and there's no doubt because we're all agreeing to it. Now replace "unicorn" with "someone": a thing that is born, that is the body, and will die. The thing with a unicorn is that it's very specific; it's a horse with a horn. That which we are really isn't a body that is born and dies. Everything appears like that's what it is. But it appears that way from the perspective of having been raised to believe you're a unicorn, and everybody lives in a world where we are all agreeing that we're unicorns.
Then at one point you can see: "I'm not a unicorn." And so, "I'm not someone. There is no one here." And then people will hang you, crucify you. Maybe a few thousand years later, some people start to agree.
But what happens when you see that? There's a big transformation, but it's a really subtle change. It's not, "I'm not a unicorn, I'm a zebra." It's, "I'm not someone. I'm not a person. I am." And I cannot say anything more than that. Anything to qualify that which I am is too much. There is a certainty in "I am." And there is a certainty that "I am" cannot be qualified. But there is no certainty as to the nature of what I am. It's just mystery. It's "I am."
The certainty is that the nature of this "I am" cannot be qualified in any shape or form. But it is not bound in time or space. That can be known with certainty. Not because you know that you are timeless or eternal, but because you know that time and space are something you are prior to.
All of this, people teaching it, speaking it in different ways, different languages and styles, can be very confusing. The point of speaking it is to see if it can point so that somebody recognizes it on their own, rather than adopting a belief system around what it is. That is often very problematic. Sometimes it's helpful as a way to move out of something, but what matters is that you can recognize it directly.
Yes. I definitely practice being aware of the sense of "I," the sense of existing, and that feels expansive. But I guess the takeaway I'm getting from this conversation is that perhaps I could start to see, whether it's my visual field or my sensorial field, and recognize the oneness.
Look at the illusion rather than trying to merge
You don't have to do any merging. There are certain aspects of the illusion of knowing what we are, but the core illusion is: "I am a thing." That is the illusion. "I am a thing" is the illusion. What the thing is, is something limited, that has a boundary with things outside and things inside.
So look for the boundary. There's a sense of location. Any practice of merging is going to be going the wrong way. By looking at the suggestion that the sense of a boundary and a location is an illusion, by looking at the illusion and seeing through it, the reality will be recognized. That reality is that there is no separation. There is no separation right now. You're in unity right now. It's like saying that everything is Buddha nature, that we are all Buddhas, and some people just don't realize it, don't recognize it. The belief is that you are not in unity.
I'm really trying to recognize it.
Some people have to work at it.
I guess the visual is not like coming back to something; it's more like expanding outward.
Expansion and contraction are not what you are
The experience of expansion will happen. There are a few things about that. Because there is a contraction, there is an experience of expansion when we have moments of disidentification. But what can be seen is that where you are is always expanded, and the contraction is an illusion.
If we believe we are a hand, and the hand is clenching like this, we feel contracted and uncomfortable. Then when we manage to open it, we feel good, we feel expansion. Then we clench again and feel contracted. And there's this movement: contraction, expansion, contraction, expansion. We need this movement in order to believe we are a hand. Because if the hand remains still, after a while there will be no sensation, and then that which "I am" will disappear. But what actually disappears is what I thought I was. It will be seen as "I'm not that." That which expands and contracts isn't what you are. What you truly are cannot expand.
But with my perception, I mean, instead of the location being somewhere in here, could I start to see the visual field, for instance, as myself, as another expression of what I am?
Follow your curiosity
There are a lot of practices useful for starting to undo the habit of interpreting what we are as limited. For example, when you go for a walk, you can ask: am I walking toward something, or is something moving toward me? Am I still while the world moves, with what's ahead of me moving toward me? You can play with that.
It depends on the person and the preference, and whether one has more of a rational, scientific mind or not, as to which of these practices are more useful. There are certain core beliefs that we're very attached to, even if they're causing suffering. These core beliefs are what we hold on to no matter what, even if the consequence is suffering. Those are important to look at. It can happen that in relationships this comes up. It can happen that there are consequences of this in the way we function, in the work we do, and in how we create disharmony and struggle in our life. All of that is also a way to look at and approach things.
But walking toward something and experiencing that it's "outside of me, out there": how are you perceiving it if it's outside of you? The only way that is true is if you define yourself to be this body, if you define what you are as completely ending at the surface of the skin. You can start to look at what appears first. Is the body the source of awareness, or is the body appearing within awareness? These can become really philosophical questions, but they can be very powerful when you can have a direct experience where the body is gone, the world is gone, perception, sensation, sound, sight, all of it is gone, and you are still here.
I'm saying this because it can often be encouraging to explore. But I'm giving the answer, whereas what matters is for you to know, and to be honest, to have the kind of inner integrity and honesty with yourself. "Am I fully convinced I am this body?" Or, "I really don't know: if this body were gone, would I remain?" We can ask those questions. There are different techniques: the Buddhist approach, the Advaita approach, and within Buddhism and Advaita there are branches and branches of approaches.
I'm saying this because there is a lot that can be done. Follow that which gives you the most curiosity, what feels most playfully attractive and not like an effort. It has to be that you're really curious to know. Then you can set aside approaches that simply don't resonate. It could be a path of fully feeling the experience of beauty and love, where you feel like you merge with everything. Or it could be a more rational, philosophical approach. It could be that while you're journaling, you start to hold an open question: "What is actually happening? Where is the choosing coming from? What is the writing? Where is it coming from? Where is the sense of inside and outside? Where are the edges?" If it's this kind of playful love of recognizing what you are, it will go far.
Thank you. Thank you so much. I appreciate it.