I Am What I Am (the Mundane versus the Transcendental)

I am what I am. An old spiritual teaching that seems to point out that our nature, whatever form it may appear to be, simply is. Yet, like many other teachings, this phrase often comes into misapprehension. We can understand the appeal: on a more literal, immediate level, it seems to tell us that there is nothing left to conquer, nothing left to change: that perfection lies precisely with what can be observed, nothing else to be found. Reality is known, look no further.
More often than not it is this literal interpretation that many of us use to make their stand. I am what I am becomes a justification for behaviour, rather than a perspective on existence. I am like this, leaving implicitly that you'll have to weather this I am. I am what I am is taken as meaning that there’s no point in changing myself, that there's nothing that really needs to be changed – so I'll remain neatly in my comfort zone and care not about the world and the needs of others.

To a certain extent this perspective is correct – conceptually, at least. Yet, quite often our experience tells us otherwise. How often does this I am what I am feels empty and lonely? How often do we feel trapped instead of liberated, doubtful and uncertain instead of happy and carefree? Experience, life itself, shows us that, even though our perspective might be correct, we cannot sustain it.

And perhaps this is the key. Perhaps the point of these words has always been that we should sustain this perspective, no matter what. Our lives may be going swimmingly or everything may be collapsing all around us – and still we will feel the same in regards to what we are. We'll still feel intimately connected to our sense of self, as complete as we can muster it.

This is because this simple sentence embodies more than a mundane perspective on existence: it embraces and redirects us towards a transcendental one. One where we experience complete communion with our nature and, in doing so, are plunged into the comprehensive awareness that nothing remains to be changed, because the ultimate experience of being has been attained: the very place where the sense of completeness that stems from that phrase truly emanates from.

I am what I am focuses not merely on the visible aspects of the ego, the personality, the set of ideas and beliefs with which we identify ourselves, but rather points in the direction where they retain no meaning, where they become impossible to engage with, where they are rendered useless and we are, therefore, even if only momentarily, liberated.

In this respect, I am what I am, becomes in fact a call to arms, spiritual arms: the embracing of a new viewpoint about ourselves, one where the habitual trappings are no longer valid, where we can re-establish our connection with ourselves on the most profound of experiences and, as such, reconnect also with others, with nature, with the world, with everything.

I am what I am is one of the simplest ways we have to describe and, more importantly, attain, the divine spark, if you will. It certainly encapsulates the closest path we can take to get to our very own, intimate nature. It is the echo for the long lost reunion with ourselves. That is what awaits us on the other side of the mirror, on the other side of the self.

May you be able to find yourself, unblemished and beautiful in all the purity that has always contained you. May you find that which the self so expertly hides and, who knows? maybe even protects. May you find the timeless place of no-self within and bring it more fully into fruition and into the world.

Weapons Of Mass Protection

So many things go awry in the world, our senses regularly inundated with what's wrong. Our very lives are fraught with difficulties, with people that deceive, with situations which are unjust, our voices drowned by the low, steady hum of the crowd.
In such times, we may feel despair clinging a bit too much to the surface of our being, we may even perceive this despair as something that is part of human nature, as something unavoidable, something that it is best we ignore and avoid, since we are unable to cure it.
Moved by this, we look for distractions, for things that take our eyes from unpleasant reality and into rewarding fantasies. Then, in time, through repetition, through the strenuous return to the unhappy normal, we reinforce that disconnection. What we perceive does not match what we strive each day to achieve, that which we catch fleeting glimpses of: the active form of happiness.
Where then, are our reasons, our weapons of mass protection? Where are the tools that would enable us to steady the course of humanity and redirect some of its flow?
The internet, of course, is abundant with options as well as opinions. But this diversity, more often than not, becomes quagmire, a thick swamp where it is easy to get misdirected or lost. And, all the while, the need of trustworthy sources battles both the marketing of belief as well as those who set its rules and profit the most from it.
Clearly, the promises of science, religion and politics have not come to fruition. And now, the internet appears to also be sinking under its own weight.

So, since the world around us is apparently failing for answers, perhaps we should attempt a different strategy and to go further within ourselves, in hopes of seeing what alternatives we can find.

Deep within each story there is a core. This essence is, for the most part, forgotten. We only remember it - and vaguely so -, when we long for something, when hope comes to us, even if there’s no clear reason to be hopeful.
Evidently there is something inside of us that seems to withstand even the most brutal of forces around us. The main issue with it is that we rarely see it and, of course, that we do not know how to control it.
But, think about it: outside, all around the world, that's where control is, that's where it takes shape. Look where that has left us.
Perhaps control isn't such a great thing after all.
But what if we could take ourselves back to those innate sensations that we so easily recognise when appear before us - but that are so hard to evoke when we need them. Sensations so profound that, for the faintest of moments, in spite of all else, everything falls away.

If we are in total darkness and see a light flickering, we will naturally go in its direction in hopes of finding its source. Even if this light might turn out not to be real, that attempt remains our best shot. But if, as we proceed, we see more and more flickers of light, we will then grow more certain of the direction we are taking.

In life nothing is granted. We are given moments and the ability to experience them. What will we do with them? Will we close our eyes and strengthen the darkness, forget even the memory of light? Or will we keep them open, looking for those brief moments, thanking the glimpse that points into direction, safety and progress?
Even walking blindly, we stand a better chance of getting somewhere than if we remain still, unable to act, trapped in our lives.

These weapons of mass protection must therefore be opposite to those of blind destruction. The opposite of anger, of conflict and violence, of greed, falsehood and misdirection. They have to be for all and about all. They must naturally aim themselves towards life, towards sharing and safety. These will be weapons unable to be stored in silos, rocketed across the ocean, capable of blasting entire cities into wreckage and dust. They have to be weightless, unable to burn and to harm, owned by all - not by a few -, suited to withstand both the test of time and of nurture. They must bring together instead of splitting apart, they must reunite instead of breaking open. They must heal instead of wound and they must create a better future, understand and accept the past and, quite simply, be present in the nowness that rules our lives.

Instead of material technology, we must apply spiritual and emotional energy to research them. Contrary to those others, these will become more effective the more people own them, the more practice them. Knowledge of them will not render them useless, but powerful. Other kinds of weapons require teams of people to assemble and deploy, but these require only you. And, while those others are often involved in secrecy and strategies of domination, these care not about such things, caring instead for you and each other.

Compassion, kindness, love, understanding, peace, patience, perseverance, calmness, silence, awareness are but a few of these weapons of mass protection.

Be certain that you can employ them in every day of your life. You can use them abundantly: be not afraid of sparing others of their effect. Attempt to use them in every scenario, from easiest to hardest, from the briefest to the most emotionally taxing. As you stockpile - and you can do this by using them constantly -, you will see your inner world change as well as the world around you. Everything else may remain as before, but you will be different, you will be armed with kindness alongside it.
In doing this, you will protect it and yourself, the tide will fall slightly shorter, the world be a slightly better place due to your presence.
May you take stock of your life and fulfil your purpose of protection and kindness. May your compassion guide us all towards a better, all-encompassing future.

The Tenth Insight - a brief commentary - part one

Because of a comics script that I'm currently working on and that takes place in Shambhala (well, part of it does), I've decided to continue reading James Redfield's books, namely The Tenth Insight: Holding The Vision and it's follow-up The Secret of Shambhala.

As you probably know, James Redfield is widely known for his book The Celestine Prophecy. A book that tries to expound on how the individual might secure a greater sense of spirituality within himself, whilst providing tools for him/her to achieve this over an action-adventure setting.

I really enjoyed that first book when I read it probably some ten years ago.

But, since then, a lot of things have happened.

I saw also the film about The Celestine Prophecy a couple of years ago. Enjoyed it for the low budget that it was and the difficulties of making it work on the screen but felt that the message hadn't actually been communicated through it. A good attempt but a failed one nonetheless.

Anyway, I got to The Tenth Insight some ten days ago.

Surprisingly I felt the writing didn't really engage me, that I could see through it the objectives of the writer, everything feeling a tad too artificial for me.
Still, and fortunately so, some parts abounded with information that, even though didn't shake me to my very foundations, were still good to revisit and imbued with a good sense of heartfelt truth.

But on this book, much more than the previous, what I've been feeling the most are the author's beliefs and objectives, however positive they may be. It's not the truth but his truth. And the only problem I have with this is that this is not fully acknowledged.

He is trying to give us a world vision after all. An all encompassing sense of things. Which is great but, to me, also flawed. And profoundly so. And, when we get to these things, I feel that we should be extremely careful with what we say otherwise we might be closing doors instead of opening them, as it is our intention.

my first sense of inadequacy came when I kind of projected the journey I'd travelled so far with the Tenth Insight over The Celestine Prophecy. And, beyond that feel that the main character had somehow been partially reset in order for this new spiritual progression take place, I felt that both books shared this idea that spiritual clarity is easy and quick for those deeply involved in it.

Now I'm not saying that this is untrue - because it isn't - what I'm saying is that it doesn't apply to everybody. Well, at least, that's what my experience shows.

Spirituality means different things to different people. And what I have observed that happens with most people is that, as soon as they realise some of their inner truths with some degree of profoundity, these truths (be it fears, aspirations, dreams, ideas, feelings, sensations) become more insubstantial. And this creates a sense of well being, since the old pressure has subsided, often believing that it has disappeared. Yet, to me, what I see is that these things have only become more ethereal, more vague, more diluted and difficult to track and observe. And so people acquire this tendency to forget about them and believe some processes have been completed or are very close to completion.

Some times people have deep revelatory experiences. Visions. Dreams. A sense of clarity and purpose that seems to transcend and take them with them. and because the sense of true imbued in these things is so powerful they tend to take these things literally.

And I'm not saying that they shouldn't. I'm saying that they should pay attention to their attachment to these experiences and to the truth they seem to contain.

When people tell me these experiences what I usually tend to see is how capable their psychology and knowledge obtained throughout this latest incarnation of theirs is able to create such a scenario.

And I think this is the most important thing to recognise. It keeps us humble and it keeps us both inside our experiences and yet somewhat detached from them. It makes these experiences flexible to time.

I'm saying all these things because I've been through processes like these or similar to these many times, always during meditation retreats, in such a way that these days I am able to acknowledge phases of deepening awareness where these experiences are likely to take place.

They're always powerful and life-changing. but the change that occurs is that you're no longer so surprised by them, because they become (at least during a retreat) more of a routine than a rare occurrence.

And I think that's what makes a huge difference. When you go to the encounter of these experiences with both a method and inner determination, with conditions being met both inside and outside of you.

I am saying these things because I recognise that it is easy to be somewhat misguided by oneself. The ego can be rough and tough but it is also subtle and alluring. and it is at these levels that these characteristics become more apparent - and it is oh so tempting to fall prey to them. Because they feel so good and so nice and warm and comforting. we are excited and yet we are at peace. And the world seems to open before us and, lo and behold, it reveals the very secrets we longed for so long. And we take them and now we have a mission and we KNOW.

And we miss the ego behind these things. We miss the subtle constructs of our psyche that have simply produced a wonderfully beautiful dream. A dream better than anything we could've come up by ourselves but that, simultaneously, encompasses so many of our half spoken, half thought aspirations and hopes.

I have felt this very clearly with The Tenth Insight. James has probably had many profound experiences and his desire to help his fellow human being is quite genuine. But it's this very need and thirst that both mask and reveal his own being behind it: even if he does try to remove himself from the picture and achieve a position of greater neutrality.

that this happens is only natural. And it is because it is so that I am writing this. It is clear that many of James's experiences where somewhat spontaneous, that his karma has brought them easily into his life. He partially sought them, of course, but life was also always there for him, guiding him towards these achievements. So, it is natural that his whole approach to spirituality is that of a free floating method. A method that really has little of methodical about it. based more on principles than techniques.

And that is fine, of course.

But, my hang-up with that is that I believe that this is not so for most humans living today.
The potential for them to reach such a state is there in all of us of course. But, in the physical, practical sense, it is not with so many of us.

Because if it was, there were many more James Redfield's around. The Celestine Prophecy would be lost in a sea of similar texts and probably even be considered mediocre. It is not. It is considered a shiny beacon: and it is!

If we are honest, and if we leave our comfortable nest of family, friends and companions on the spiritual path we will see that the spiritual level of most people is embrionary. The seed is there in all of us but it is next to dormant in most of us.

If this weren't so, it wouldn't take catastrophic events affecting our lives to shake us out of this slumber and awaken the desire to reach higher and deeper into ourselves.

some of us don't need this drama or trauma to do this of course.

In these people the seed is moving.

But how far do we go into turning the seed into a full blown being? Perhaps we stop with the first root or sprout coming out of the seed, believing this is it.

And it is. But it really is just a beginning.

Anyway, I feel that James wants to inspire us into a sense of ease and possibility within our lives. And that is so good. But it can also be unrealistic. And if that's the case, then the shock of realising this can throw us too far back for us to realise it is just a necessary part of our process of growth and acceptance.

another problem that I see with this text is that James creates names to label some type of experiences. and, by doing this, not only he's kind of implying that they will happen to all of us (or that they are there for us to access them) but also that they are real, that they are what he's implying that they are.

I think this is also natural to happen. After all he wants to give us clarity about things as much as possible, he wants to materialise these things in our minds eye. but, then again, there are issues with these things.

I suppose I felt like most people did when reading about one's Birth Vision, World Vision and, particularly, the chapter A History Of Awakening.

I felt I would like to be able to experience these things also.

That, here they were, so clear, so easily accessible and yet my brain, my mind, my spirit, unable to communicate and reach them and make them readily available to my experiencing.

But then I remembered some of the stuff that happened to me whilst on a few retreats. And I could easily fit it into either of these categories.

The difference? The difference was that I never bothered to label these things apart from describing the meaning that these had imprinted on me.

You see when you label something, when you give an experience a name, you limit it, because when you remember it you remember it through that name and through the condensation of meaning, of content that was distilled from the original experience. this is the problem with words. They appear to reveal but in fact they limit immensely. This is why I more and more feel that words can only serve as guideposts, as signs along a road. Rather than ever showing the path they can only point the way. And I feel it's very important to keep this in mind at all times - simply because minds have a tendency to do the exact opposite which, of course, simply reveals their own present and more superficial nature.

Before I wrap this text I'd like to say a few things more about the Birth Vision, World Vision and a History Of Awakening.

As it seems to me the Birth Vision of an individual has mostly to do with the awakening of part of our core self. Kind of like a stepping stone onto the ultimate experience of enlightenment. Because we are approaching a kind of core level of being our ego, our own personal history become somewhat detached from the moment to moment experience. in other words, we are fully aware of what's happening, only the fact that this is about us, and that it is us that are experiencing it doesn't seem so important anymore. From this looser, free floating mindful landscape and vantage point, we observe our history in a new light, from a new perspective. It is easy to see personal traits and the way our life, those around us and the world combined apparently seamlessly to create, reinforce or model them. we watch the film of our becoming, not just watching us but watching all of the participants contributing to it. it is a life transforming experience and it may occur several times, at each time, new aspects of this coming into light. Sometimes some being further developed, clarified or transmuted into a deeper sense of truth.

The World Vision is the next logical step from the Birth Vision. we have gained a deeper knowledge of who we are and what made us but we still have this need of knowing how we fit in with the rest of the world. this is a kind of proto-history of awakening. we suddenly realise that the process of others must be somewhat similar to ours, that some of these people might have realised it whilst others haven't yet and we play multiple scenarios that would contribute to either outcomes. as these mount there comes a sense of direction, after all if we evolved and changed and found a deeper, inner core, so will others. Therefore, if this happening to more people, and it seems to be a kind of a goal in each of us then certainly the world too must be imbued with this sense of direction. Then our personal sets of beliefs feed into this sense of direction and an image, a configuration of a world behaving in this way comes clearer into view. Perhaps then we involuntarily work backwards somewhat, seeing the near past and the present, seeing the conditions we lived through or know sufficiently about that support this, that create a causal relationship that enhances that sense of direction. we can see our direction in tune with the world, and we can sense the direction of the world, affecting all beings, moving us too, towards an outcome that is far greater than what we already sense for all of us. It could only be so, in any case.

But then, if we (voluntarily or not) cast our mind back and start to fathom how the past has given rise to the present we are living through, to this future that can be somewhat vague but yet utterly precise in the reality of our experience, we are then able to see the whole of life's evolution on Earth as an aspect that gave rise to our present condition, that will give rise to what will undoubtedly one day come.

What is necessary to remember here is that these experiences will mostly feed on things we already know. That either we have acquired deliberately or not - with a good degree of freedom and creativity by the creation of some connections and establishment of relationships between things that we might not be fully aware before.

in short all of these experiences correspond simply to the increasing distance our momentary experience of our inner nature retains in regards to our ego. Ie, they correspond to the egoic detachment that is simultaneous with and an expression of, our true nature of being. This feeling of expansion culminates in a sense of infinity accompanied with a loss of form, context and content, until we finally become one with ourselves, stop to know, transcending that feeling of infinity altogether and enter what lies beyond it.

Enlightenment.

(or, quite possibly, simply a glimpse of that experience, too powerful for our not yet quite ready minds to hold on to...)

Peace.

Identification Hindrance

We spend so much time of our adult lives trying to understand things within us and the world surrounding us. We put our effort into this understanding, into the aspects and ways that things become known to us. We identify what makes us feel good, bad or may even leave us indifferent. In this process we seem to mature somehow, as the limitations or our being become more perceptible rather than the things themselves known.

We learn to make love and to know our body and that of our lover. We explore pleasure and get carried by it. We learn to let go and how to search and reach that moment we can let go.

We identify every corner of our life.

Perhaps in the hope of solving (or at least coming to terms) with that great vastness of possibility and dream and hope and fear that riddled us so completely when we were so much younger. A time that often seems further and further away from our grasp.

And, I believe that, in some measure we do achieve this.

We have a clearer picture of love, life, friendship, pain, loss, hope, exultation, peace, compassion. At each moment we become more sure of who we are - or perhaps that we simply are, here.

And yet there is perhaps a longing.

A longing that seems to be for those days of questioning and pondering.

But perhaps it is not a longing for the time but rather for the sensations of that time.

Perhaps what we miss is not the being young but rather the open way with which we experienced reality around and within us. A reality without clearly defined boundaries is a vaster reality than one with landscape references.

In short it is our knowledge of life that ends up limiting our appreciation of it. Because we know we circumvent our experience.

We spend our lives figuring things out because of that initial, overwhelming, utterly clear presence of the unknown everywhere.

And, yet, after the passing of time, we find ourselves missing precisely that innate sense of freedom and possibility that that childish innocence gave us. Our identification of our experiences ultimately becomes the very hindrance towards our experiencing of life itself.

To me this is the natural process. Something we should not try to avoid nor reinforce. It is simply we can acknowledge and use.

To me the next step is to create a mode of being where we can simultaneously travel in these seemingly opposite directions: towards totality and towards precision. The infinite and the infinitesimal. Ie, reaching the full blown texture of life at each single gulp of awareness.

Ultimately Identification stops being a Hindrance. It is simply a consequence. One that can help us come full circle, in an open spiral, and recapture our essence with the greater magnitude of maturity.

Peace.

I write therefore I am
(words, sentences, paragraphs, chapters, stories, ideas)

This is one of those posts that actually started being written whilst cycling home. It was three in the morning (eleven hours ago...), it was cold, snow everywhere and I was coming home from work, feeling tired. Not mind-tired but muscle-tired. Just enough to make the prospect of getting home and cuddling on my sheets in the silence something to look for.

Yesterday was a tough day. Like most have been for the last couple of months, even three months now. The long and short of it was that, roughly two weeks ago, right after finishing NaNoWriMo, and as I was backing up ALL my stuff, the IT nightmare took place - I lost it all.

As it stands I don't know if I truly have lost ten years worth of stories and audio tracks but, I can't get access to any of it.
And I have to wait until I can get a chance to go to some people that might be able to help.

During the last two weeks I've been trying very hard to accept this and move on - but I simply can't. I can't write, I just keep thinking the same spiraling thoughts over and over. I know. It's a bit ridiculous to be so attached to information, something that, ultimately, is empty (as Buddhists say), but what can I do? Brains and the minds therein are strange inhabitants of our existence.

I have had quite a few insights in relation to this situation. Some are pretty obvious ones. Some less so. But, as far as they've come, they haven't actually changed my inner world of doom and gloom. I feel I'm on emotional stasis.
Even though my mind continues to search for answers amidst its files, creating more and more connections, I'm trying not to read too much into it, especially when it comes up with some pretty weird scenarios about the meaning of it all. I don't know if any of this was meant. I don't know if this is for the best. If this is a test. If it's all just random. If I should change direction and focus in my life. If this is the ultimate proof of artistic survival. what I do know is that all these things reveal fears and expectations...

One of the things I was thinking about last night was how this emotional wear and tear could serve as some sort of preparation to my upcoming meditation retreat (if I get there, since I'm having problems with my visa as well - that's what it's been feeling, problems all around... there's very little in my life right now that seems to offer a place of rest and peace - and that makes my feeling of isolation become overwhelming at times). Like this turmoil to be experienced and accepted right now would enable me to move deeper into meditation during the retreat. Or maybe it's a reverse echo of sorts, a kind of prequel for what's to come.
I'm sure that these things are true if I do get there and the retreat goes anywhere near where it did last year - and, from what I've gathered inside and with one of the monks, it's bound to.

Death is the final frontier.

Yesterday I also considered the very simple scenario of looking back on all of this from the vantage point of old age. Would it be still the drama I experience now?

If I do lose the data I think I'll remember this event when I'm older.
But if I don't, I'll probably forget. Lessons learned with pain (or, rather, with intensity) tend to stick around much longer.

Have I learned my lesson in regards to backing up stuff?
Not really. I was backing up the data and created an accident. And I know myself too well to believe I'm going to change my natural clumsiness in the next hundred years or so. More than anything I have to learn to live with it...

In any case, the whole point of what I'm writing here is simply to share how deep the impact of creating patterns inside one's mind can be.
Obviously I cannot know any other minds besides mine - at least, not in the same way and, I would venture, as profoundly. But it seems to me that minds do tend to behave alike since their raw materials and modus operandi are somewhat similar. Minds create patterns like one might create a trail in a forest. The more that trail is used, the more the effort one puts into opening it (consciously, willingly, or not) the longer it is likely to stay open, the deeper and wider the groove made on the soil.

And, with pain, we open not trails but highways in our brains. We map out scenarios that we wish to avoid but, at the same time, are extremely aware of (one implies the other, after all).
And this is what I've been doing. Grooves upon grooves, upon grooves. My neurons are heavily interlaced in some very specific patterns. So much so that part of me doesn't even want to get away from the patterns they represent. They are well known and, to an extend, safe. And, if we're safe, why should we change?

All this to say that my mind has been reeling and battling with itself in trying to come up with a solution for something that it has created but that it cannot solve. That is perhaps the core drama of the human life. We are here and yet we do not KNOW.

Perhaps we just need to accept that.

Somehow.

peace.

Is Meditation Difficult?

This is one of the questions I often encounter when talking with people about meditation.

But let me respond to that with another question: is Painting difficult?

Meditation like painting or playing an instrument or any other human activity requires time, perseverance, discipline and focus.

For most of us, that is.

Some of us just jump in hey presto!, they're there.
But these are the exception, not the rule.

I'm not one of these wonders. I'm one of the other ones. The ones that hesitate and falter and bash their heads and hurt and get hopelessly confused trying to figure out something they don't quite understand. The kind that makes mistakes that sets them back for a while, that turn out to push them forward for a time and that, in the end... well, I still haven't got there so I can't really tell you about that...

So meditation is a bit like painting (be it with a crayon, a brush or a blow-torch). If we have a natural aptitude to it, it will be easier to draw a smooth and steady line, to create and repeat shapes, to compose them on a canvas, to use colour, to play with various desired effects. It will probably mean a lot of work, a great many hours dedicated to that art, perfecting it in whichever ways we find ourselves most interested in.

But even if we don't have a natural aptitude for painting we can all do it to some extent. It might take us longer than these "naturals" but we might get to be as "good" as them if we practice enough, if we explore it enough. We might even be "better".
After all, even if someone has the greatest natural aptitude for painting but if they don't do anything with it, what good is that natural gift?

Besides, we might not be all that great with the brush and water colour but we might be incredible with charcoal. Who knows? We need to experiment and be willing to learn from those experiences.

I think meditation truly is a bit like playing an instrument or painting. There's music in all of us, there's art in all of us. And, to a certain extent, it is important to uncover our own music and our own art because it is an integral part of who we are.
The same applies to meditation.
Okay, perhaps Vipassana isn't for you. But maybe Yoga is. Or Tantra. Or something else entirely (Vipassana with a different teacher, in a different place....) These things will change as you get to know yourself through them.
The important thing is to be willing to learn from every single experience and, for that to happen, we need to know what occurred. And that means we need to be paying attention...

The other thing I'd like to mention is something that we tend to identify with difficulty.

When I speak about the schedule and the discipline of a meditation retreat (where a yogi is supposed to be meditating at every waking moment and refrain from such basic things as speaking, looking here and there and thinking too much) people react saying that it sounds really difficult or really hard.
And it is.
Even for me and I've done it a few times already.
But it is particularly so in the beginning of the practice. Then, as your body and mind start to become accustomed to the routine, it starts becoming easier and easier. And there is much to be gained...

This sense of difficulty comes about happens because most of us do not have the experience of being fully committed to anything through the entirety of our lives. Not at this level at least.
We're used to having moments where we can just "switch off" and "relax" and "take our mind off of things".

This is great for many activities but, in regards to meditation, at least in the way I have been taught and learned from, the emphasis is placed on the building of this kind of meditative momentum. And, in order for it to increase, we must make continuous effort. The emphasis truly is on the word continuous.

I'll give you the following example.

Imagine that you are on the shore of a river. This river is continuously flowing. There is no bridge whatsoever and the only way to cross it is for you to build a bridge yourself. There is however another problem: the only material available is sand.

The river flow is fairly calm and so, little by little, upon each handful of sand placed on the shore, the distance between us and the other shore shortens. The more we work, the faster and more precisely we do it, the faster we'll get to the other side. Still, we need to be careful for if we trip or start going in the wrong direction we might be making effort in a way that will deviate us from our objective rather than bringing us closer to it.

With this in mind my question to you is this: what will happen if we stop to rest?

Clearly the river never ceases flowing, therefore it will drag at least part of the sand we've placed. This means we have to continuously replenish sand. If we always put more sand than the amount the river takes we will be making slow but steady progress.

Eventually we will have to rest, to sleep. But these activities should be kept to a minimum in order for us to be able to reach our objective.

Of course, by placing sand on the shore of the river, the flow of the river itself is altered and, therefore, the placing of the sand must continuously adapt to this in order for us to attain our objective.

This is what happens in meditation. The more we diligently sustain our awareness upon the objects surfacing in our consciousness, the closer we will be moving to that other side of our reality, the one we might have glimpsed but whose route we are yet to find.

But there is another great advantage of undergoing a process such as this. In fact it's an advantage that brings many others. If we allow ourselves to commit totally to something not only will we know what that actually means, but we will also be a great step closer to what the word devotion truly means. And, as a side effect, we will know all the much better what are our limits, what we can do, when should we stop, how much further can we go.
In a word, through this process of total commitment, true compassion arises, for self, and for others.

And, in my opinion, if for nothing else, solely for this, this immersion in the meditative practice would already be incredibly valuable.

So, in conclusion and in answer to the initial question, meditation, per se, isn't difficult. We are all gifted for it in one way or another. The question is how far we are willing to explore and be explored by it.

After all, meditation's biggest problem isn't difficulty, it's the yogi...

Peace!

Unrequitted Collective Unconscious

Another example of the strange meanderings of mind.
In the shower I found myself thinking about the film Mars Attacks. I saw it recently for the first time. A Tim Burton classic. It's a strange film, with some, often dark, humour, but also with the ability of playing with the clichés of the genre. Both of SF and film.

In this film there's a couple, a man and a woman, that, as soon as they cast their eyes on one another, they fall in love.
But, throughout the story the two never truly get the chance to be together.Yet, on one of the last scenes of the film, with everything blowing apart around them, they kiss for the very first (and last) time.
As I observed my mind replaying this scene I pondered why unrequitted love is such a powerful hook for us.
The mind flash backwards rapidly, putting aside considerations of failed teen love and delved deeper into childhood. to the first experiences of love.
Surely these must come from our parents. Thus, our first experiences of failed and unfulfilled love, must come from them as well.
In fact, perhaps only through this lack of love/attention that at some point parents will inevitably display did we began to gain awareness about love itself.
In this way, perhaps unrequitted love is not only connected to our earliest experiences of love itself (and therefore deeply imprinted in our beings) but might be also the very form upon which the concept/experience of love lies more closely.

But before my mind wandered in this direction, it began thinking about aliens and film and how culture so easily finds its way into the unconscious. How subtly these imageries of films and art can enter the minds of those that can then affirm that they have made contact with such beings. Even if all of these powerful experiences might have (without them being aware of this) simply have happened in their minds. Then I thought of Jung. The Collective Unconscious. How amazed he would be if he saw this world of ours, with the media so widespread and prevalent in our lives.
Perhaps he'd say that what this society is attempting is the "homogenisation of the unconscious".

There was also an idea for a story that surfaced as I pondered the relation between sexuality and spirituality. Essentially what has often been pointed out to me: that the guru, the spiritual master, tends to be identified with a male figure rather than a female one.
I don't think I'll make a book or even a short story about it but I think I'll placed it inside another story... that sounds about right...

Just thought I'd share...

Peace.