The Fear of Stopping
El miedo a detenerse
A student shares the frightening realization that stopping the search means the dissolution of the self she thought she was, and the teacher reframes this as a genuine breakthrough in awakening.
The Fear of Stopping
A student shares the frightening realization that stopping the search means the dissolution of the self she thought she was, and the teacher reframes this as a genuine breakthrough in awakening.
I think I'm having a bit of a hard time because I can sense that if I stop seeking, then I stop. And that's really scary. My heart is beating fast right now trying to describe it. I thought I wanted to stop seeking, and I do, but then I realized: oh no, I don't want this. So I feel caught between a rock and a hard place. I want to stop seeking, and then I realize I don't.
So attached. That's actually a big breakthrough right there. When you see that, a lot has already dropped.
It's very scary. On the one hand everything is the same, but it's almost like there's a pulling back: "I don't want to see that."
Seeing reality at a deeper level
But now you're seeing reality at a deeper level. You're not pretending. You're not telling yourself a story. You've opened up to seeing a lot more of what is actually there. That might seem like a setback, because you were so convinced you were gung-ho for awakening, and then suddenly it's like, "Oh no, I'm not."
But that is a step in awakening: to drop what I call the inner hypocrisy, the lack of inner integrity where we tell ourselves stories. We all begin there. We all do not want to see. Then we want to see, but only some things and not others. Then gradually we start to see more and more, until it becomes harder not to see than to see.
You need that kind of delusional conviction just to stick around long enough to get to the point of no return. And then you're able to see, "A big part of me is really not okay with this." All of the attachment and resistance becomes seen, becomes conscious. That's a big breakthrough.
The framework coming apart
It feels like an unraveling. I noticed during the meditation, and I'm noticing this in my experience in general, there's a wanting to put the frameworks back together, like a house of cards. And if that framework isn't there, then I don't exist. Maybe that's too many words to describe it, but I don't know how else to say it.
What you thought you were is not. What you thought you were was thoughts. And that's pretty shattering.
It feels very intimate but also very exposed. I think that's all there is to say about it, really. It's happening on its own, I suppose.
Losing the ability to rebuild
The putting it all back together, the house of cards: what we normally imagine is that we just stop doing it because we decide to. What actually happens is that we lose the ability to do it.
Yes, it feels like something is fighting. During that meditation something was fighting to keep the framework together. But then something also sees that and can't unsee it.
Exactly. And because you can't unsee it, you're pulling all the energy out of it. You're pulling the rug out from under the whole thing. Just by seeing it, it's as if you've seen all the evidence that Santa Claus isn't real. You've seen the gifts in the closet. You've seen the disguise. And you're saying, "No, he's real, he's real." But you keep seeing more and more evidence, and the whole belief system starts to collapse until you simply cannot buy it anymore.
It does happen on its own. What is really key is the love of truth, the love of seeing, the love for reality.
Trusting the longing
I've really been thinking about that. In a recent meditation you talked about trusting the longing. There's something that wants to put the framework back together, but there's also that longing. The longing is also there.
The longing just needs a nudge to evolve, so that it becomes a longing for the right thing. The longing should be for something that must be here, now, always.
Not an idea of what could be.
Right. That reminds me of a poem by T.S. Eliot:
I said to my soul, be still and wait.
Wait without hope, for hope would be hope for the wrong thing.
Wait without love, for love would be love of the wrong thing.
There is yet faith, but the faith and the love are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought.
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
That's really beautiful. Thank you. That's a helpful pointer around the longing, because part of building the framework is longing for something that was, calling this "a glimpse" and then saying "now I'm seeking again," putting a process or a framework around it.
Yes, there's a practicality of getting somewhere. But the longing isn't for getting somewhere. It's for what is already here.