Noticing Is Enough
Notar es suficiente
A student asks about the difference between noticing and dismantling illusions, and the teacher explains that seeing what is real is all that is required for illusion to dissolve on its own.
Noticing Is Enough
A student asks about the difference between noticing and dismantling illusions, and the teacher explains that seeing what is real is all that is required for illusion to dissolve on its own.
You say something like, "and you know what's going on." It sounds like somebody knows what's happening.
I mean that she knows there is a resistance, that she has the insight that was appearing as resistance and what it's about. Something knows. Something sees. The problem is knowing what that which knows is.
I get tangled with that. "Something knows," but it's clearly not a someone, not a person, not a sense of self. Yet somehow something knows what resistance is.
The problem there is language. "Something knows," and the word "something" has the word "thing" in it.
And then with wisdom, it relates to something like "wisdom only appears," but then there's a relationship implied.
The limits of language
In language, said in language, there's going to be a relationship. But in reality there isn't. It's like mystery talking to itself. It seems like there's a relationship, but there isn't, in a sense. At the same time, within what is appearing, you could say there is a relationship between the water and the river and the riverbed and the rocks. There is a dance, and so it is appropriate to thoughtfully contemplate those aspects of what appears. But it is important, ultimately, to see that that which knows is not separate from that which is known. And in fact, that which is known emerges from that which knows. The perceiver projects the perceived. It's not the perceiver perceiving the perceived.
So it's only resistance that knows what resistance is. And only thought knows what thought is.
Only the creator of thought knows its creation.
Yes, and clearly I'm not the creator.
How do you know?
Directly seeing. It comes from nowhere. There's no evidence of anything at all. I can't see where it's from or how it's created.
Don't be so sure
Contemplate that. Don't be so sure. When you say, "Clearly I'm not the creator; things come on their own and go on their own," I would say: don't be so sure.
Okay, so it feels like there's some intention. That feeling of intention creates thoughts, or creates decisions. But it's not consistent, this intention. And I think it's really tough. There's no possibility to answer this question, so it just ties you up.
Yes. What I'm feeling in your question is still a deep, subtle struggle to define self: whether there is one or not, what is perceiving what, whether there's something greater or not, whether you are that or not. It's an intricate, complex desire to know what you are in the sense of being defined. The only antidote, the only cure for that, is not knowing.
When you say, "Clearly I am not the creator of thoughts, clearly I am not that clarity," I wonder if it's an assumption.
It's just direct experience. When I investigate, it comes with the result: nothing is found.
The dream and the waking state
But how do you know, in your experience, that you're not creating it? Consider the difference between the waking state and the dream state. In the dream state, there's an imagination, and when we wake up, we notice that world was coming from our own mind. But in the waking state, we assume the waking world is not coming from our own mind. What's the difference?
It was from the mind. The investigation was just mind activity.
Yes, and the knowing. There are clarities that are genuine, and there are clarities that can be illusion. This is where the risk lies in exploring this territory.
Freedom as peace, not power
The goal, let's say, is freedom. But it could be called true freedom, which is not freedom to have whatever you want. It is freedom from illusion, freedom from that which is false. And that freedom has a quality, which is peace. It's not power, though it is a form of power in a sense.
The way to identify this freedom: the knowing of it will have the quality of peace, and the clarity that comes from it will have the flavor of peace. When clarity is being communicated, it will have the absence of restlessness. This is up to you to know only for yourself. When you experience clarity, does it carry restlessness, or does it carry peace? Then you will know if that clarity is true: whether it brings restlessness, or whether it comes from and is immersed in peace.
I'm putting that back to you, to know for yourself, not based on my intuition. Because the clarity "I clearly am not the creator of what is appearing" is not my experience. I don't have that clarity. In fact, the opposite. I clearly don't know, and I very likely, possibly, might be creating what is appearing. But "I" is not this person. I can speak about "I" as this person. I can go and make a smoothie. But the clarity "I am not the creator" has, to me, a different scent. It has the scent of really trying to grasp.
You say it's from your experience. I would suggest you say instead: "It appears like I am not the creator. It seems to me now, it appears to me that I am not the creator." Don't be so sure. You might be surprised.
I'm wondering if you could say a little bit more about something I heard you say earlier, which is "noticing is enough." To give some context: I think there has been in me some struggle. I really resonate with the pointing we've talked about in this group, about seeing how it's a choice. But sometimes it can feel like a battle of choosing, and I have the sense sometimes that there's too much. Sometimes the mind is throwing up alarm signals, and that can create confusion. But sometimes I think there's more tension in the form of "I better not think that, I better not choose that." And I don't think that's what you're talking about.
Choice at the deepest level
No. When I say it's a choice, I'm talking about the fundamental illusion, the suffering. But that assertion is dangerous, because it's only valuable and useful where it works.
To me, it's an assertion that is more fundamentally real than the common understanding, the common belief that things happen to us and we are passively receiving that which is given. That, to me, is a misinterpretation. A clearer perspective is that we choose.
Now, it's been said in different ways, even in mass media, where they say you can't choose the circumstances that happen to you, but you can choose how you relate to them and how you interpret them. That starts to approach it. But when I say "it's a choice," I'm referring to something much deeper, which even implies what we were just discussing: what if you are actually creating everything that you're experiencing? I would say that as a "what if," because ultimately it's a not-knowing. That's where the freedom is.
Beliefs as tools, not truths
But these statements, like "there is no self," are useful and powerful to a society and an individual who believe they ultimately know what self is, that there is one, and they know exactly what it is. "There is no self" is not truth either. It becomes the antidote, or the thorn used to remove another thorn. But the thorn you used can be thrown out. It's all mind puzzles, working with beliefs, proposing perspectives and thoughts that undermine beliefs so that those can be challenged, questioned, and released. Ultimately, it's not about acquiring another new belief, like "there is no self," or "I choose everything and I am the creator choosing everything." That's not my experience either.
Right, it's not landing at any one particular view or seeing one as truth and staying there.
It's really seeing that you don't know, you can't know, and it's all interpretation. It's that simple. The only thing we know is: there is something (that's not a thing). There is this.
Yes, I've heard that said elsewhere as well.
That insight goes back to very ancient philosophy, perhaps Parmenides or Aristotle. These are insights coming from truth seekers millennia ago, but powerful because it is truth, expressed in words, the deepest truth.
In fact, my teacher used to say the most true statement in spiritual work is from the Tao Te Ching: the first line, which is normally translated as "The Tao that is spoken is not the true Tao." I've looked at translations and I prefer one that's more literal from the Chinese, which says: "Tao called Tao, not Tao."
So truth, reality, the way (which is how Tao can be translated), that which is, called something, called "the way," is not the way. Basically, any statement of truth is false in a sense. Any statement about what this is, is a false statement. And I would say there's one exception: "There is something rather than nothing." That statement is absolutely true as a statement. It's undeniable.
Those two together, "Tao called Tao, not Tao" and "there is something rather than nothing," form the foundation of all spiritual and philosophical truth.
Noticing versus dismantling
When you were saying "noticing is enough" versus investigation, would you distinguish those, or are they part of the same process?
They're part of the same process. The investigation is the curiosity to look, and what you're doing when you're looking is just noticing. You're not trying to make things happen or change things. What you're wanting to do is to see what is really there. And when you notice what is really there, that's it. Nothing more is needed.
That's exactly it. I think I was believing I had to dismantle something. And then I'm like, how do you dismantle an illusion?
That is exactly what I said in the introduction to meditation. All you do is see what's real. The illusion falls by itself.
What you're describing is exactly the problem. I know it's universal, and I've been there. There is this sense that you start to listen to the teachings of spiritual work, all these forms and flavors, and it seems like there's something you need to do. Then you start to see the path of truth, and it's about illusions, and now you start to think, "I'm going to undo these illusions, I'm going to cut them down with an axe." But it's much simpler than that. It's easier. It's more on the side of effortlessness.
You look, you see the unrealness, and the illusion falls. The illusion becomes a play, becomes a game.
The Santa Claus metaphor
Think of the example of Santa Claus. Once you see that it was your parents, there's no way back. You don't go back to believing in Santa Claus. But it's not always black and white. You might suddenly see that the person in disguise is a relative, and in one instant Santa Claus is no longer real to you. But they can still tell you, "Well, no, he was busy, so I took his role, but I put on the beard. Really, he's just next door." And until you're four years old, you think, "Oh, okay, okay." Now you're starting to wonder what's true and what's real and what's not. So there's a process. It's not sudden. But you don't go about trying to dismantle the belief in Santa Claus sitting on your own. You look for evidence, and when you see the evidence, when you see what is real, the illusion falls on its own.
The minute you see that all of your presents are in your parents' room, in their closet, the Santa Claus suit is there, your friends are telling you it's not real: all the evidence starts to add up. At some point the illusion of Santa Claus just dissolves. You didn't do anything. You didn't make any effort. You just saw the reality, and the illusion dissolved. You stop seeing the story as reality, and it just becomes a story. That's the only change. You don't dismantle the illusion. The only thing that happens is: what seemed to be real, what seemed to be an interpretation made of thoughts, you stop seeing that as fundamental reality. And it becomes, "Oh, it's interesting how that imagination appears. It used to make it seem like that was real, like that was the fundamental reality. Now I can see it's just an interpretation of what is appearing."
The belief was so deep
The appearance of things, of this world, used to be to me matter. I was matter as well, and that's all I was. I was separated from every other object of matter, and they were completely separate things. That to me now is funny, because it's so obvious that there's nothing like that. There are sensations, perceptions. It's one field. There's nothing that is "I" that's not "I." I can refer to "I" as this and "computer" as that, and it's functional. But it's that simple.
And yet, the belief was so, so deep. And how shattering it was when it started to dissolve. All kinds of challenging experiences just from dropping beliefs. But that's also my makeup, my personality, the intensity. For others, it might be simpler. I wish that for everybody: simple, gentle, quick, painless.
It does get to a point for me sometimes where I'm like, "I don't want this." I think I've mentioned this before. There's just a process of growing trust in those moments, and seeing, like what we talked about last week, the silence even in that "I don't want this."
"I don't want this": you mean, what is the resistance to what is?