The Illusion of Moving Towards and Away
La ilusión de moverse hacia y alejarse
A student describes a meditation experience in which fear transformed into joy after a subtle shift, and asks whether the movement toward experience is itself a problem.
The Illusion of Moving Towards and Away
A student describes a meditation experience in which fear transformed into joy after a subtle shift, and asks whether the movement toward experience is itself a problem.
Right before this call, a work situation came up and I felt a lot of fear in the body. Then, as we settled into the meditation, I noticed I was in this neutral, open space, and the fear was allowed to be there. But it wasn't shifting. So I got curious and moved closer to it. I noticed something almost physical, like a switch turned in the back of my head, a kind of "yes" to the experience, and then it just exploded into joy and love. It was wonderful.
But I wonder: there must have been a subtle "no," a rejection I wasn't even aware of. I thought I was being neutral, and yet it seems like there was a slight movement toward the experience that was correcting a pullback I didn't even notice. Then part of me judges that: is the movement toward also not good, because it's still a movement? Maybe if it's correcting this subtle withdrawal I'm not aware of, then the movement toward is the right way to go.
You're describing a recurring experience, or at least something that happened now in the meditation, where there is a "no" to something, then a kind of switching, a felt movement toward it, and then you're wondering whether moving toward it is the right approach. Is that roughly what you're asking?
Yes, I think that's right. And I'd just add that it feels like there must have been a subtle "no," but I wasn't aware of it.
What makes you say so? What's the problem?
The problem is that the fear feels uncomfortable. That's what feels wrong. I'm sitting in meditation, and it feels like I'm just being neutral with it, but it's uncomfortable. Then I move toward it and it's amazing, it's great. And I think, "Well, that seems to be more of what I want: this love and this joy."
I'm honestly having a hard time understanding what the problem is.
That's a good question.
Are you saying that because you're going toward something and it feels good, you're questioning whether that's the right way?
Yes, and it's a strange thing to question, because obviously it feels like a great thing.
The risk of a repetitive cycle
There is a point to consider here. I don't have a strong intuitive sense with you right now either way, but generally speaking, that can become an addictive process. Maybe that's what you're picking up on, a valid kind of alarm. If there is something repetitive, some contraction that doesn't feel right, some fear, and then you move toward it and there's a release, and then there's bliss, and this starts to repeat, that can become addictive.
I think that is part of the question. Is that slight movement toward the experience similar to what we were discussing earlier about "going through" something? Or is it slightly different? I'm not sure.
What we were talking about before was the complexity of "going through." If you're looking to go through it, then you're not really going toward it. There is a resolution of that subtlety. Now, if what you're describing is something that repeats, it could either be something that's integrating, stabilizing, or it could be a habit. We can preserve a sense of identification by expanding and contracting, expanding and contracting. That can be an addictive process.
I wouldn't call it a habit yet, but it's something I've noticed recently. It connects to what I've brought up before about moving toward life versus what I've been doing. There's this subtle moving away from life, and in this case away from the fear, and I'm not even aware I'm doing it. I feel like I'm just being neutral, not doing anything. And then I notice the fear is still there. So I open my heart and go toward life, and it does appear to be a movement. It's not neutral. And yet it feels right.
What is it that moves?
I'm starting to hear a pattern of moving toward and away, movement versus life versus not-life. So look at what that movement actually is. Ultimately there is no movement, because life is all there is. You can't move toward or away from life, or toward and away from emptiness or presence or whatever you call its opposite. There seems to be a recurring sense of choosing to move or not to move. You talk about neutrality versus moving toward. Wonder: what is it that moves? What is it that's moving?
I think that's the root of the question. It did feel like a thought: "I don't like this, so let me go toward it and say yes." It was a little strategy. And then it worked, and it was amazing.
So maybe even try not making that movement. What happens if you just let it be? Taste it. Because ultimately that movement is the illusion: the sense of moving toward or away from something.
Savoring without movement
When you say that, I feel into it, and it seems like part of the tasting is this kind of inherent loveliness. I'm tasting it, and it brings in something positive.
Yes, but that applies to everything, right? When you're tasting and savoring with some kind of positive sense, everything, then there's no movement.
So even if it's positive, you don't consider that a movement? I've been considering it a movement because it still feels like "toward." It feels like, "Oh, I'm embracing it."
That's where I think the illusion lies. Wakefulness, awareness, consciousness, this knowing of being: you can't move away from it or into it or in any way dim it. At that level, to be "more awake" or "less awake" makes no sense.
I think what I was wondering is whether I had just been subtly saying "no." And so it might feel like a slight movement toward, but it's really just coming back to what already is.
The way I would suggest working with this is: see if you can savor and taste everything that seems like a "no" without it having to change. The fear, the pain, whatever it is, the thoughts, the emotions, anything you can savor. And when it's appearing, there is some form of, I think you used the word "positive," so I'll use that word, some form of positive quality, some form of love or loveliness. You could call it peace or tastiness. It's really just words. But something positive, because that is essential. That is timeless.
I'm doing it right now as we're talking, and it's so peaceful.
Seeing what covers the peace
The more you realize that this is present always, and that everything unpleasant is made of that, the more you find yourself unable to move away or toward it. What changes is the seeing of the true nature, the reality of it.
I've had so many moments where that's clear, and then sometimes these old patterns of being gripped by fear come back.
Just go back to the experience right now.
Go back to the fear experience?
Whatever the experience is right now. You just brought up fear, this coming and going. But what is happening right now?
Right now it's just peace. I can feel some currents of fear swirling, but it's happening in peace. It feels blended.
Whenever it appears that there isn't that pleasant, positive quality, see what might be covering it. Most likely there will be an illusion: ideas, beliefs, attachment.
Yes, it's always some contracted "me" trying to control for safety.
Emptiness and the human experience
That makes me want to bring in something else. I think it's really the same topic. There are things in life that feel really exciting to do, and part of that experience involves a lot of thought: "Yes, I want to do this thing, and here's how I'm going to do it." It feels like I'm following my heart, and there's joy, but it also feels like there's a someone doing it. Whereas when I'm really being empty, not trying to do anything, I don't seem naturally drawn to the things I love.
Both of those are true. You're just seeing them as a dichotomy, one form or another. When those come together and you see that they aren't two, the emptiness you find when you're dropping everything is also there in the thoughts, in the deciding, in the sense that there's someone there.
When you say that, I do sense it's true. The emptiness is still there in the background. I think I have a concept that I shouldn't be feeling like there's a doer, that I shouldn't be having this human experience of thinking about what I'm going to do. There's a concept of what nondual living is supposed to be.
That's your interpretation of it, right? Many people talk about this, and then it gets interpreted in a particular way. What needs to be seen is that in the appearance of, let's call it ego, the sense of "I" as a person, to see that there is no such entity: that is the freedom. The freedom isn't in the appearance or disappearance of that sense.