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.