Month: January 2021

I have long been attracted to the sensual quality of words in poetry and enjoyed their ability to allow me to share in the hidden experiences of the writer. This has mostly been in some context and the emerging magic has been in the weaving of words together. Some words are taking on an ability to stir deep feelings in me without the context of syntax, or rhythm or woven imagery.

All words have some cognitive resonance and recognition, as long as I understand the language. Some words, all on their own, can stir sensations beyond the enjoyment of recognition. I find that even without context, words like “emptiness” bring on sensations that ripple through my body. “possibilities” is a word that conjures up a murmur that relaxes all of me. “Inbetween” instantly takes me to a deep sensation of recognition and being centered.

I know it is my past experience with these words and my deep immersion in them that causes this sensation in me. It is like they are a small opening into a space that is wide and wonderful. Just by thinking them, they instantly remind me of where I have visited before.

There is one theory that language has the effect of rewiring the brain. We think in patterns conditioned and even formed by the assemblage of words in our language. I think that the rewiring of my brain might also be associated with individual words. The words individually concur up whole wide experiences that would normally take many paragraphs to describe

I think that I normally have rich experiences that I associate with individual words. When speaking with others, I use those words, realizing that there is no way that they can understand the full meaning that those words have for me.

I am aware that some words not only have that rich depth of meaning for me, but they also cause sensations. The ones I am thinking of conjure the feeling of unmistakable peace and calm. It is nice to have my brain wired to them. It is nice to have them so accessible.

I sometimes reach out for a hand, and none is there.

I wonder if this is just part of being human in the midst of others like me, or is it an invitation for me to relax into a realm of no formations. There is a rich joy in the experience of being connected with another person, a plant, a rock or any other entity. This is mirrored in the rich joy of being connected with nothing at all. The beckoning lure of nothingness extends a powerful invitation to enjoy the sphere where there is no recognition, but all things abide.

I am caught in between the poles of this duality in my life. The invitation of each is so strong, and sometimes very distracting. Perhaps there is an in between where both abide.

I’m never quite sure what people mean when they talk about “being present.” I am even rather vague about what I mean when I say that I am present. However, I am noticing that there are a group of characteristics that show up when I experience what I consider being present. Actually, focusing on those characteristics of experience sometimes help me have an experience of being present.

There are traditionally five aspects of experience, and paying attention to them makes my life much richer. I have more experiential contact with what being present is about. Although they can be looked at individually, they are like the panels of a five-sided ball. While they can be understood when examined individually, they are best experienced when observed all at the same time. Experience is the bundle.

One obvious aspect of experience involves material form. This is the sensory aspect of experiences and includes all matter and the related physical sense impressions. A tea cup sitting next to my keyboard and my seeing it is an aspect of experience. My feeling the warm cup in my hands and pressing my lips against its hard rim all are aspects of my tea cup experience.

Whether this is a pleasant or unpleasant experience is a wholly mental activity and a second aspect of experience. Every experience is pleasant, unpleasant or neither-pleasant-or-unpleasant. Sometimes this is called feeling tone, and it is a basis for developing likes or dislikes, which is another aspect of experience. If I recognize the experience as neither-pleasant-or-unpleasant, it typically means I am tuned out, not paying attention. I am in a moment of delusion. To experience being present, I have to know if the experience is pleasant or unpleasant.

Recognition of the tea cup is another aspect of experience and a second mental activity. In my constant stream of sense activity, I am constantly singling out objects that I recognize. I relate this current experience of seeing and holding a tea cup to a mental storehouse of previous experience. There is great vulnerability and chance of error in this aspect of experience. Recognition or perception is not always accurate. It is important that I suspend beliefs, desires and fears in experiencing a tea cup. It is a challenge to recognize things as they are and not as I imagine them.

A fourth aspect of experience is my attitude to what I perceive. This aspect is also a mental activity and includes all the things that express my will and motivation. This aspect of experience includes a vast range of mental experience: likes, dislikes, confusion, joy, tranquility. My experience of the tea cup can include a great assortment of moods and emotions. My attitude to perception is a major part of the moment of experiencing the tea cup. I often experience my tea cup as comforting, soothing, tasteful, delightful.

The fifth aspect of experience is the knowing quality of my mind or consciousness. It is like a cloak thrown over the rest of the experience. It is the most complex concept of experience, and is the most basic knowing of my tea cup. Consciousness is like the hand passing in front of my face. It is simply there.

There are times that I examine my experience from the perspective of each and all these aspects. Like a pilot going through a check-list before take-off, I check each of the five. Then I hold them all together in my attention, like the pilot who is aware of all the green lights at once.

It is one experience after all, and it is necessary for me to hold all five aspects in mind in order to understand it. I hold them together in one moment, one experience, while still being aware of all five aspects. It is that collective understanding that forms my sense of being present.

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At what point will I no longer be the one-who-sees and all that remains is the seeing? The boundaries have seemed hard and fast. But I lean to the time when there will no longer be a seer and only the seeing will prevail.

So much of my life has been devoted to setting boundaries, defining who and what I am. Much of this effort has been in the interest of creating my sense of self as I have come to understand who and what I am, and what I am not. Now I am not so sure I want to continue that selfing project as I begin to experience a different way of seeing. Something has begun to feel loosened. That boundary between myself and the world around me seems to be less fixed than I thought.

As that boundary becomes less and less stable, so does the notion of “myself” seem to weaken.

There are times that I look across the room and the couch in front of me no longer seems so separate from me. My experience of someone who is seeing the couch becomes unstable as I become simply atune to the seeing. What had previously been a narrow and focused experience of my seeing the couch has shifted into a wide and spacious experience of simply seeing. The couch is being seen. I am not so aware that I am seeing the couch.

This happens in other ways. As I walk down the snow-covered sidewalk, the firm pavement is simply felt. I am not so much aware that I am feeling the hard surface under my feet. The sidewalk is being felt. Music comes from the black speakers near my chair and I am not so aware that I am hearing a flute and harp. There is only the soft experience of a flute and harp sound being heard.

Seeing in this changing way is more than simply being more mindful. When I am mindful, I am still quite aware that I am the one being aware. “I” show up routinely, even habitually. Seeing without boundaries is more of an experience of unity of attention. The one-who-sees fades from the experience and attention centers on the seeing quality of mind. Boundaries soften and there is a kind of absorption, shared space. Distinctions and forms become less important.

There have always been unique occasions when this kind of seeing was possible. I mostly remember this type of seeing when I was in the presence of a vast landscape such as the Grand Canyon or waves on what seemed a limitless ocean. In those settings, it was easier for “me” to step aside, to get lost. Now I am happy that this kind of seeing is much easier to experience, and I don’t have to travel to distant places.

The more I can remove the seer from the experience, the more likely this quality of seeing will occur. Snow, people, lights, couches, candles, Beethoven. All become vibrant and present when they are part of this kind of seeing. More and more I am becoming less the one-who-sees and only the seeing remains.