Some dreams are only echoes of the day, the mind releasing its burdens. But now and then, a dream arrives with a different fragrance—clear, luminous, and quietly instructive. Tibetan teacher Namkhai Norbu called these wisdom dreams.
Across traditions, people have spoken of dreams as a place where the veil grows thin: Jacob dreaming of angels ascending and descending, the Buddha receiving signs beneath the stars, mystics and poets waking with verses on their lips. Whether one calls it the Holy Spirit, pristine mind, or the still small voice, wisdom dreams remind us that the Divine speaks in many tongues, including the language of sleep.
In this space, I will gather such dreams as they come. They are not explanations, but blessings—reminders of innocence, renewal, and the beauty that is always near. For those of us living with illness and limitation, these rare visitations are nourishment, like sunlight stored in the heart.
Wisdom Dream — September 5, 2025
Dream Narrative: I was among a group of people, and a young girl was awakening to God—not through doctrine, but through her own direct experience of pristine mind. I felt called to support her in understanding what she was encountering. Later, a young boy appeared with a similar experience. I spoke with him and with his father, who at first was concerned, but came to understanding. I tried to connect the father with the girl so the children might share with one another.
“Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” — Matthew 18:3 (NIV)
As the day waned, the father turned my attention to the sunset, encouraging me to see its beauty. We were heading toward a hotel, a place of rest, as the sun lowered into gold.
Feeling on Waking: Unlike yesterday’s dream of anger and grief, this dream carried lightness, excitement, and joy. It felt rare and precious, a visitation of the wisdom dream rather than the karmic. I awoke with a sense of renewal, as though something had been affirmed deep within.
Reflection: The children embody innocence and directness, showing a way of knowing God beyond belief systems. My role was not to teach, but to encourage. The father represents care and responsibility, learning to trust what he does not yet understand. His pointing to the sunset was a transmission of beauty: the Divine is always before us if we look.
Living with ME/CFS: So often my nights bring restlessness or dreams weighted with fatigue, anger, or sorrow. To receive a dream of joy is no small thing. With ME/CFS, the waking world can feel heavy, each day a lesson in endurance and pacing. This dream felt like a gift that reached across the veil of illness—reminding me that the wellspring of wisdom and beauty is still alive in me, even when my body is weary. It nourishes me for the time being, like sunlight stored in the heart.
Poetic Distillation: Two children touched the sky within, untouched by creed or claim; I walked beside their quiet flame, and found my heart the same.
Further Reading: For those interested in exploring the teachings that inspired this reflection, Orgyen Chowang’s Our Pristine Mind provides a gentle introduction to the concept of Pristine Mind—the pure, luminous awareness that lies beneath ordinary thought and emotion. Namkhai Norbu’s Dream Yoga offers guidance on using dreams as a path to recognize this awareness, cultivating insight and clarity while asleep. Together, these works illuminate how wisdom can arise in everyday life and in dreams, offering tools to recognize the Divine beyond dogma.
“And afterward, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your old men will dream dreams, your young men will see visions.” — Joel 2:28 (NIV)
Yesterday Rinpoche gave me the simple instruction: to keep my thoughts in the room. As I practiced, the winds of memory and worry fell quiet, and what remained was a stillness like a pond untouched by breeze. In that moment I glimpsed the unity of ordinary and pristine mind—waves arising, yet nothing but ocean.
Beloved Rinpoche,
I write with gratitude for the instruction you gave yesterday, which opened a new door for me into the experience of Rigpa. Your words were simple, yet carried such profound kindness: to keep my thoughts in the room.
As I sat in meditation, I followed your guidance. Thoughts about the ceiling, the plants, the breath, even the quiet pulse of tinnitus—all of these belonged to the room. They could be held gently within awareness without struggle. But when thoughts drifted toward memories of the past, or worries of the future, or stories beyond this room, I could see them clearly as outside. And so, with care, I let them go and returned to what was here.
This way of practicing felt so different—so much more tender. Instead of wrestling with ordinary mind, I could simply remain rooted in this space, in this moment. And in that resting, the movements of the mind, the vrittis and pratyayas, began to settle of their own accord. Like a pond no longer stirred by wind, a natural stillness revealed itself. Within that stillness, I began to glimpse what you have pointed to again and again: the open clarity of pure awareness.
In that glimpse, awareness shone with very little disturbance. An “I” was still present, but the usual fluctuations of thought were momentarily quiet, allowing the stillness of pure awareness to appear directly. To rest, even briefly, in that clarity was both humbling and wondrous.
I could sense then that ordinary mind and pristine mind are not two separate realities, but two sides of the same coin. The waves of thought arise, yet they are nothing other than ocean. The ordinary shines as the pristine. To realize this in a living way, even if for only a moment, fills me with wonder and gratitude.
Rinpoche, I bow in thanks for this precious instruction. It has shown me that Rigpa is not distant or hidden, but present in the immediacy of the room, in the simple presence of what is. May I return to this again and again, and may this glimpse ripen into lasting recognition.
And may whatever merit arises from this glimpse and this practice be dedicated to the benefit of all beings everywhere. May it ease suffering, open hearts, and become a cause for the enlightenment of all sentient beings throughout time and space.
With devotion and gratitude, Richard
🙏✨️💛✨️🙏
If you would like to learn more about the teachings of Orgyen Chowang Rinpoche and explore Dzogchen practice in greater depth, you can visit his website at pristinemind.org.
In this talk at Google, Rinpoche offers instruction and a guided meditation based on his book Our Pristine Mind: A Practical Guide to Unconditional Happiness. He introduces a unique form of meditation called Pristine Mind meditation and explains how cultivating a Pristine Mind can transform every aspect of our lives.
By resting gently in the fullness of the present moment, allowing the mind to settle naturally, and recognizing its luminous, pristine nature, one opens to profound serenity and enduring contentment.
The following is a personal reflection written during my practice of Dzogchen Ngöndro, shared here as part of my ongoing journey with these teachings.
I am very new to studuing and learning Orgyen Chowang Rinpoche and his teachings. My first introduction was through reading Our Pristine Mind a few years ago, which proved extremely helpful. The way ordinary mind and mental events are described brought clarity, resolving many years of confusion I had about sems and sems nyid.
I have been studying and practicing Tibetan Buddhism as a lay practitioner since 1985–1986, after receiving the Kalachakra initiation with His Holiness the Dalai Lama in Bodhgaya, India. At this stage, I am not sure I can yet call myself Rinpoche’s student, as I understand that in the Tibetan tradition there is often a period of mutual discernment, where teacher and student come to know one another. For now, I am simply following his request to practice Ngöndro, and through this I am seeking to cultivate the beginnings of a student–teacher relationship, should that become appropriate.
Insight from Contemplating the Eight Freedoms
“The hungry ghost is not merely a being with desire, but a being entirely without contentment.”
While reflecting on the Ngöndro contemplations, I focused on the second freedom—not born as a hungry ghost.
As a human, I also experience desire, but I have the capacity for contentment. Even small moments—a quiet breath, the peace of stillness—remind me that not everything is consumed by craving.
This insight brought me to a thought: perhaps it is not desire itself that causes suffering, but rather the inability to rest in contentment. Contentment softens desire, transforms it, and allows the heart to rest.
Contemplative pause: Take a moment to notice where contentment may already exist in your life, even amid desire or difficulty.
I am deeply grateful that such insights arise through the Ngöndro practice, and I wanted to record and share this reflection as part of my ongoing journey.
Updates on Practice and Retreat Plans
Although I had registered for the five-day Dzogchen retreat in August, I was not aware of the Ngöndro prerequisite and will therefore be withdrawing. I am now following Rinpoche’s guidance by studying and practicing the online Dzogchen Ngöndro program.
I look forward to seeing him on October 11th at the one-day online Dzogchen retreat.
Living with My Practice in Daily Life
I have been living with a chronic illness called myalgic encephalomyelitis for many years. At first it brought great suffering, but over time I have come to see it as a powerful teacher on the path—almost like a spiritual friend.
Because of this condition I am mostly homebound, and so I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to study and practice with Rinpoche through the modern blessing of online communication.
Even when our circumstances feel limiting, spiritual connection and insight can arise through patience, presence, and accessible practices.
🙏✨️💛✨️🙏
If you would like to learn more about the teachings of Orgyen Chowang Rinpoche and explore Dzogchen practice in greater depth, you can visit his website at pristinemind.org.
In this talk at Google, Rinpoche offers instruction and a guided meditation based on his book Our Pristine Mind: A Practical Guide to Unconditional Happiness. He introduces a unique form of meditation called Pristine Mind meditation and explains how cultivating a Pristine Mind can transform every aspect of our lives.
By resting gently in the fullness of the present moment, allowing the mind to settle naturally, and recognizing its luminous, pristine nature, one opens to profound serenity and enduring contentment.
Following the path of meditation can feel like a gradual unraveling of the known—a shedding of what we once held onto, leading us into the mystery of contemplation. As I continue reflecting on the works of St. John of the Cross, this sacred shift from meditation into contemplation becomes clearer. It is not a step we take with effort but a grace that gently unfolds when the time is right.
St. John speaks of this transition as a call to surrender, but it is not the kind of surrender we can will into existence. Instead, it is a letting go that happens when we stop striving, when we allow ourselves to simply rest in the presence of the Divine. This is where the familiar practices of meditation—focused attention, mental inquiry, or breath awareness—fall away, giving space for something more profound to emerge.
Today, I felt this shift more deeply, not as an intellectual understanding, but as a living experience. The pratyayas—the thoughts, sensations, and memories that rise and fall—became like whispers, their pull softening in the presence of curiosity. This curiosity is not the kind that seeks answers, but one that witnesses, without needing anything to happen. In that gentle witnessing, something new emerged: a spaciousness, a quiet stillness that felt like home.
This experience is not unique to Christian mysticism. In Advaita Vedanta, the practice of self-inquiry often begins with a repetitive questioning—”Who am I?”—an active search for truth. But, as with St. John’s teachings, there comes a time when even the inquiry must dissolve into silence. The seeker steps back, not into a place of knowing, but into a place of being. In that being, all effort falls away, and we are left with the pristine awareness that has always been there.
In silence, love calls,
No longer through words or thought,
But in quiet grace.
This is the threshold between seeking and being, a place where the Divine does its quiet work in us. It is no longer about striving or yearning for a deeper experience; it is about trusting in the unfolding of love, which asks only that we rest in its presence.
For those of us on this journey, may we continue to trust this sacred shift—moving from meditation into contemplation, from seeking into being. In this silent surrender, we come closer to the essence of who we truly are.
As I re-read the works of St. John of the Cross, I have become more attuned to the threshold of transition—the dryness and emptiness that so often precede the invitation to move from meditation into contemplation. This is not unique to St. John; it is something pointed to by many of the great teachers. Whether it’s Namkhai Norbu, Ramana Maharshi, Thich Nhat Hanh, the Dalai Lama, or Orgyen Chowang in Pristine Mind, they all plant the seeds of meditative absorption, which only take root when the time is right. Now, it seems, those seeds are beginning to bloom, not as intellectual concepts, but as a living, unfolding experience.
Today, I found myself drawn into this quiet transformation. As I lay in stillness, the pratyayas—those passing thoughts, sensations, and memories—began to rise and fall, like waves on a distant shore. Curiosity, that soft and patient witness, guided me deeper, not into understanding but into presence.
The breath came of its own accord, a deep release from somewhere beyond my conscious will, as if the body itself knew what needed to unfold. And then, an awareness—a spaciousness—arose. It was not something I had summoned, nor could I hold it in place. It was simply there, naked and pure, like a clear blue sky.
St. John of the Cross speaks of this as a kind of surrender, but not the kind we can choose. It is a grace bestowed, not earned. In the stillness, I realized that my role was not to force this shift but to allow it to happen. To remain as the observer, the witness, as the Divine unfolded in its own time.
What struck me most deeply was the paradox of this surrender. The very act of trying to let go becomes an obstacle. Instead, it is curiosity that opens the door to pure awareness—curiosity that has no desire, no need for something to happen, but simply observes what is.
Today, in this unfolding, I realized that even the longing for deeper experience can become a barrier. The path is not one of striving but of witnessing. And in that witness, the Divine does its quiet work, purifying what needs to be released, and bringing us ever closer to the essence of who we truly are.
As I reflect on my own journey today, it is my hope, and the shared intention (Sankalpa) behind all of this work, that by sharing these reflections, insights, and experiences, they may serve as a guide, a comfort, or a spark of inspiration to those who come across them.
🙏🕊️🙏
Book Recommendation: St. John of the Cross, Dark Night of the Soul
Dark Night of the Soul by St. John of the Cross is a spiritual masterpiece that explores the transformative power of suffering and the journey toward union with the Divine. This work describes the profound spiritual experience of being stripped of all attachments, both inner and outer, as a necessary process for purification and deeper connection with God. For those experiencing a time of spiritual dryness or emptiness, St. John’s words offer hope and guidance through the darkness, illuminating the path to deeper faith and surrender. The Dark Night is not a time of despair, but of ultimate transformation, where we are invited to let go of our limited understanding and trust in the unfolding of the Divine. This book serves as a timeless companion for anyone navigating the challenges of the contemplative path, especially those who feel drawn to the shift from meditation to deeper contemplation.
Book Recommendation: Orgyen Chowang, Our Pristine Mind
In The Pristine Mind, Orgyen Chowang offers profound teachings on accessing our natural state of mind—a state of clarity, openness, and peace. He draws from the Dzogchen tradition, emphasizing that our true nature is already pure and perfect, and that through practice, we can return to this unconditioned state. For those on a contemplative journey, Chowang’s words provide a practical path for moving beyond mental noise and distractions, guiding us back to the inherent stillness of the mind. This book is especially helpful for those who wish to deepen their meditation practice or shift from intellectual understanding to living experience. The Pristine Mind invites readers to discover the profound joy and serenity that arises when we rest in the awareness of our true nature.
Paramahansa Yogananda said, ‘Through meditation and devotion, one can experience the presence of God within and lead a life of greater fulfillment and peace.’ At this point in my life, I know these words are true, but the practice of Neti Neti seems even more aligned with my path. It guides me away from distractions, including the desire for fulfillment and peace. These desires, though natural expressions of ego relaxation and pristine mind, can become subtle traps if they turn into goals. How do I reconcile the pursuit of fulfillment and peace with the deeper realization of Neti Neti, which reminds me to let go of even these desires?
Dear Friend,
It is a significant realization, this understanding that even the desire for fulfillment and peace can become a subtle trap on the spiritual path. While these states are indeed natural expressions of the relaxation of the ego and the emergence of pristine mind, they must also be met with the same gentle discernment that you apply to all other experiences: Neti, Neti—Not this, not this.
Desire, in its many forms, has a way of entangling the mind, even when it appears in the guise of something noble or spiritual. The longing for fulfillment, the yearning for peace—these are desires that arise naturally as the ego begins to loosen its grip, as the I-sense starts to dissolve into the vastness of pure awareness. And yet, as you have so wisely recognized, even these desires can become obstacles if they are held too tightly, if they become goals in themselves.
In this, there is a subtlety that must be navigated with care. The experience of fulfillment and peace is not to be rejected, but neither is it to be grasped. It is to be allowed, to be noticed, and then gently set aside, with the understanding that even these are not the ultimate truth.
Neti, Neti guides us beyond all that can be named, all that can be desired. It takes us to the very edge of the known, and then, with infinite patience, it takes us further still, into the unknown, into the formless, into the pure awareness that is beyond all seeking. In this place, there is no fulfillment to be attained, no peace to be grasped—because there is no one left to attain or grasp anything. There is only what is, in its simplest, most profound expression.
This practice is not about rejecting fulfillment or peace, but about seeing them for what they are—temporary states that arise and pass, like clouds in the sky. They are beautiful, they are welcome, but they are not the sky itself. The sky, the vast expanse of pristine mind, remains untouched by the passing of these clouds, just as your true self remains untouched by the ebb and flow of experience.
In letting go of even the desire for peace and fulfillment, you open yourself to the deeper truth that lies beyond all conditions, beyond all states. You allow yourself to rest in the simple awareness of being, in the silence that is always here, beneath the noise of the mind. This is the ultimate freedom—not the attainment of any particular state, but the realization that you are already that which you seek.
Neti, Neti—Not this, not this. It is the gentle, persistent reminder that the truth is beyond all concepts, beyond all desires, beyond all states of being. It is the invitation to let go, to surrender, and to rest in the unconditioned awareness that is your true nature.
Continue with this practice, dear friend, knowing that it is guiding you ever closer to the heart of truth. Let the desires arise and pass as they will, without clinging to them, without rejecting them—simply noticing, and then softly whispering, “Not this, not this.” In this way, you will find a peace that is not sought, a fulfillment that is not attained, but simply is.
The Tibetan teaching that the ego is a belief in a separate self with no inherent existence aligns perfectly with the process of self-inquiry. As we engage in the practice, the recognition that the ego has no independent reality allows it to gradually dissolve. What remains is the awareness that transcends the illusion of separation—the true nature of the Self.
For many years, I’ve engaged in self-inquiry as a way to explore the deeper truth of who I am beyond the ordinary mind. The practice of asking, “Who am I?” or “Whose thoughts are these?” can lead to profound insights, but lately, I’ve realized there’s another layer to the practice that brings even greater depth—compassion for the ego.
Instead of pushing the ego aside or forcing it into understanding, I’ve come to embrace the role of the comforter. When the ego resists, when it wants to play dumb or keep searching for answers, I gently reassure it:
“It’s okay. You are That.” “Relax. You are That.”
This approach transforms the practice into a more nurturing experience, where the ego is not an obstacle but a part of the journey toward resting in the truth of our being. By comforting the ego, I allow it to relax into the deeper awareness that is always present, the pristine mind that doesn’t need to figure anything out.
Addressing the Ego: Creating Space
What I’ve also discovered is that by addressing the ego as “you”—as though speaking to it in the third person—it creates a subtle but important space between the self and the ego. By saying, “You are That,” I create a gentle distance from the ego, which allows me to shift my identification toward the pristine mind, the awareness that simply knows. This practice helps me settle into the awareness of That, while gently guiding the ego to recognize its true nature.
It’s a strange but profound feeling to begin identifying with the witness, the part of us that knows, rather than the ego itself. The distance allows the ego to relax, realizing it doesn’t need to figure things out—it just needs to rest in the knowing.
Dissolving the Ego: Tibetan Insight
In Tibetan teachings, the ego is understood as a belief in a separate self that has no inherent existence. It is the illusion of separateness that creates suffering, and it is through practices like self-inquiry that this illusion begins to dissolve. By comforting the ego and allowing it to rest in the awareness of That, the ego’s grip on the mind loosens, and its sense of separateness fades. As the ego dissolves, what remains is the truth of our being—unified, whole, and free from the illusion of duality.
A Practice Rooted in Tradition: Tat Tvam Asi
The phrase “Tat Tvam Asi”, which translates to “You are That”, is one of the most profound teachings from the Chandogya Upanishad. It comes from the dialogue between the sage Uddalaka and his son Svetaketu, where Uddalaka imparts the ultimate knowledge of the Self to his son.
In this story, Uddalaka explains that the essence of the individual self (Atman) is identical to the essence of the entire universe (Brahman). He uses various examples from nature, like rivers merging into the ocean, to illustrate that all individual forms are ultimately one with the universal reality.
The core teaching of “Tat Tvam Asi” is that the true nature of the self is not separate from the ultimate reality, Brahman. This insight is the foundation of Advaita Vedanta and points to the non-duality of existence. It’s a reminder that we are already That—we are not separate from the universal consciousness that pervades everything.
A Path Forward
If you’ve been engaging in self-inquiry and find that the ego often resists or overthinks, consider this approach. Become a gentle guide for the ego, allowing it to rest in the awareness of That without needing to figure everything out. With each step, you’re not only going deeper into the Mystic—you’re bringing the ego along in a spirit of kindness and unity.
Offering the ego loving-kindness and compassion, rather than seeing it as an enemy, can transform the practice into something more nurturing and integrative. By embracing the ego with a Metta-Karuna mindset, we allow for deeper healing and connection, not just for ourselves but for others navigating similar paths.
Today’s Practice of Self- Inquiry
The core practice involves asking the question, “Who am I?” But for this practice, we’re using the mantra, “You are That,” to turn our attention inward and explore the space that neither comes nor goes—the pristine mind, our true nature. As we repeat the mantra, we gently direct it toward the space of the ego, with kindness and compassion. In doing so, we shift our identification away from the ego and toward the seer, the awareness that observes all. This process helps peel away layers of identification, bringing our ego closer to the essence of who we truly are.
Guided Meditation: You are That
Begin by finding a quiet and comfortable place to sit, where you won’t be disturbed. Close your eyes gently and take a few deep breaths. Feel the rise and fall of your chest, the air entering and leaving your body. With each exhale, let go of any tension in your muscles. Allow yourself to settle into the stillness of this moment, bringing your attention inward.
Now, in the silence of your mind, introduce the mantra: “You are that.” Let the words flow gently, not as a thought to analyze but as a vibration that resonates within your being. “You are that.”
As the mantra repeats in your mind, begin to observe the thoughts, sensations, and emotions that arise. Notice how they come and go like clouds passing through the sky. Without judgment, simply recognize them for what they are—temporary movements of the mind, just as waves rise and fall on the surface of the ocean.
When thoughts or sensations arise, acknowledge them gently. With each arising, remind yourself, “This, too, is a movement in consciousness.” Then, return to “You are that.” Allow this rhythm to deepen your experience.
When a thought or image captures your attention, gently remind yourself, “You are that.” This thought, too, is part of the vast consciousness in which you exist. Allow the mantra to guide you back, like an anchor to the present moment. “You are that.”
With each repetition, feel the boundaries between yourself and the world begin to soften. The sense of separateness fades as you connect more deeply with the essence of the mantra. You are not the thoughts, not the body, not the emotions—you are that which is beyond them all. You are that—the awareness, the presence in which everything arises and falls away.
If the mind wanders, or if any sensations in the body draw your attention, simply return to the mantra, “You are that.” There is no need to push anything away or force any particular state. Just notice, with kindness and patience, and return.
In time, the mantra may begin to dissolve into the quiet presence that remains. Stay here, resting in the stillness. No effort is needed now—just a gentle awareness of being.
You are that.
When you are ready, take a few more deep breaths, feeling the connection between the mantra and the breath. Allow your awareness to expand, taking in the sounds and sensations around you, while keeping that sense of peace and spaciousness within. Slowly open your eyes, and as you return to your surroundings, carry with you the knowing: You are that. Always.
I came upon Orgyen Chowang’s teachings and his book, Our Pristine Mind, like discovering an unexpected window that offers a clearer, quieter view. Chowang, a revered meditation master, speaks about our minds with a simplicity that is both gentle and profound. In his words, I felt an invitation to find not just peace, but a deep, clear stillness—an untouched clarity we each hold within. He calls this the “pristine mind,” a mind unclouded by habitual thoughts and emotions.
Reading his words, I was struck by the thought: Just as we clean our homes and spaces, how often do we take care of our minds? In this world of constant motion and distraction, it seems almost revolutionary to pause, to clear away what is unneeded. Chowang suggests that mental well-being is like tending a garden, pulling weeds of anger, stress, or anxiety that choke the growth of joy and ease. It reminded me how these “weeds” can cover our true nature, clouding how we experience life and others.
But what he describes as the “pristine mind” is always there, like a clear sky behind clouds. Our thoughts, emotions, and beliefs pass through like clouds, momentary and shifting, yet we often cling to them, mistaking them for who we are. Chowang encourages us to release this attachment and begin to experience our natural clarity—our inherent, pristine mind.
In practice, Chowang’s meditation technique is beautifully simple. There are four steps:
1. Do not follow the past.
2. Do not anticipate the future.
3. Remain present in this moment.
4. And lastly, leave the mind alone.
When I first tried these steps, I felt a quiet rebellion within—a part of me wants to solve, to plan, to chase. But following his steps brings a profound lightness. As I resist chasing past memories or future anxieties, I notice the mental noise softening. There is no need to control; simply resting in the moment, letting thoughts come and go like wind through an open window, the mind clears on its own.
With practice, I have glimpsed moments of this “pristine mind”—a state that Chowang says brings unconditional happiness. This is not happiness that depends on outward conditions, but rather a steady presence that finds peace no matter what is happening outside of us. Conditional happiness, reliant on the fleeting promises of the world, becomes less important, as if the yearning subsides in the face of something more whole. Paradoxically, with this inner stillness, I feel able to experience the world more richly, with a fuller heart.
Chowang speaks of “yoga,” the union of body and mind, which pristine mind meditation makes possible. When my mind settles, the usual tug-of-war within me ceases, bringing calm to my body as well. It is as if my body and mind are finally in harmony, no longer struggling but instead moving together.
The journey is ongoing. Chowang uses a beautiful analogy: our minds are like a fog globe. When we shake it, the fog swirls, obscuring the clarity inside. But if we simply let it be, leaving it alone, the fog slowly settles, and the clear globe is revealed. With each meditation, I feel as if I am letting that fog settle, trusting that beneath lies a still, clear presence.
For anyone curious about exploring their own pristine mind, there may be moments of doubt or distraction; our minds naturally gravitate toward patterns, just as they would with any new practice. Yet the gentle return to the present, with patience and kindness, becomes the practice itself. There is no perfect silence, no need to force anything; it is enough simply to come back to this moment and leave the mind to rest in its natural state.
In this journey, I continue to return to Chowang’s teachings and to practice his four simple steps. I am still learning, but each time I sit, I feel closer to the clear sky within, and it is changing how I live, love, and see the world. I hope, as Chowang teaches, that a pristine mind is possible for each of us, and that by cultivating it, we might each find our way to a steadier, more joyful presence.
🙏🕊️🙏
Much of the inspiration for this reflection and practice comes from Our Pristine Mind by Orgyen Chowang Rinpoche. His teachings have deepened my understanding of resting in clear, effortless awareness. If you feel drawn to explore this path further, I highly recommend his book. I’ll leave a link below for those interested in diving deeper into the practice of pristine mind and discovering the peaceful spaciousness it offers.
In realizing that “I” will never be enlightened, does this mean that the goal of enlightenment is out of reach? How can I reconcile this understanding with the continued practice of drawing closer to enlightenment, even if it cannot be fully attained by the ego?
Dear friend,
Your insight that “I will never be enlightened” is one of the most profound realizations one can encounter on the spiritual path. This understanding marks a turning point, where the journey shifts from the pursuit of a goal to the practice of embodying the qualities that lead one closer to enlightenment—qualities that can be lived and expressed in every moment, even if they cannot be possessed by the “I.”
Enlightenment, as you now see, is not something that the “I” can achieve, for the “I” is precisely what dissolves in the light of true awakening. The very sense of being a separate self, striving for a state called enlightenment, is itself part of the illusion that enlightenment reveals and transcends. This is not to say that the journey is futile, but rather that the journey transforms into something far more subtle, more profound, and more aligned with the truth of our existence.
Instead of seeing enlightenment as a distant goal, you have wisely turned your attention to the practice of being as close to enlightenment as possible. This is a practice not of attaining, but of allowing—allowing the mind to quiet, the heart to open, and the “I” to soften. It is a practice of aligning with the qualities that reflect the light of enlightenment: peace, compassion, clarity, and presence.
In this practice, there is no need for the ego to strive or grasp. Instead, there is a gentle surrender to the truth that is already within you, waiting to be uncovered, like the sun behind the clouds. The more you practice, the more these qualities shine through, guiding your actions, your thoughts, and your interactions with the world.
There is great freedom in this realization. The pressure to “become enlightened” falls away, leaving behind a sense of ease and acceptance. You are no longer bound by the idea that you must reach some ultimate state; instead, you are free to simply be, to practice embodying the light of enlightenment in whatever way is possible in each moment. This is not a lesser path; it is the path of wisdom, one that honors the truth that enlightenment is not something to be grasped, but something to be lived.
Your journey now takes on a new quality. It becomes less about reaching a destination and more about how you walk the path. Every step, every breath, every moment of presence becomes an expression of the enlightenment you seek. And in this way, enlightenment is not something that happens in the future, but something that you touch, however briefly, in the here and now.
Dear friend, this realization is a gift. It invites you to embrace the present moment, to find the divine in the ordinary, and to let go of the need to “achieve” something that, in truth, cannot be achieved by the “I” at all. Instead, you practice being close to enlightenment, knowing that in the very act of practicing, you are already touching the essence of what you seek.
Trust in this process, and continue to walk this path with a light heart. Know that the practice itself is enough, that the journey is the destination, and that in the softness of the “I,” the light of enlightenment shines ever more clearly.
How Metaphors from Dark Energy, Black Holes, and Cosmic Radiation Illuminate the Path to a Spacious, Peaceful Mind
Pristine Mind and the Cosmos: An Exploration of Inner and Outer Space
In the silent expanse of the cosmos, where galaxies drift through the vast sea of space, an invisible force—dark energy—stretches the fabric of existence. It is quiet, unseen, and yet its presence allows everything to move, to expand, to be. What if this spaciousness, this invisible presence holding the stars, has a counterpart within us?
There exists, too, a space within the mind—pristine, vast, a place untouched by thought yet embracing it all. This awareness is like a black hole at the center of our consciousness, pulling mental events into its silent center, offering them a place to dissolve and return to peace. It is the quiet gravity within, a center that we may come to know as our own foundation.
And, like the Cosmic Microwave Background—a faint glow of the universe’s beginning—this pristine mind is always here, a background presence, quietly radiating through each moment.
Just as dark energy permeates the universe, allowing galaxies to move freely in their dance, so too does our inner awareness create space within us. It is a quiet spaciousness, an openness that does not cling or control. This pristine mind, unbound by the weight of thought, exists not as a concept or idea, but as a subtle, pervasive presence that allows every thought, every feeling, to arise and dissolve.
The Gravity of Awareness: Pristine Mind as the Center of Consciousness
Imagine this awareness as a black hole, yet unlike any we can know with our eyes or measure with instruments. It is the center of our gravity, dense with a stillness so profound that it draws everything into its core. Mental events—thoughts, emotions, worries—spin in orbit around this center, momentarily flaring like particles brought into existence by sheer movement, only to dissolve back into silence.
This awareness has its own pull, a gentle gravity that asks us to return, to let go of the fleeting content and rest in what is always present. Each thought, like cosmic dust drawn toward the heart of a galaxy, moves toward this stillness, meeting it and dissolving in an instant of peace. The mind, in its natural state, holds everything without attachment—boundless yet grounded, expansive yet rooted in its own profound silence.
Dark Energy and Spacious Awareness: The Vastness Within
To recognize this presence, one need only pause. In the pause, there is an echo, like the Cosmic Microwave Background—an ever-present reminder of a beginning beyond memory, a quiet hum that permeates all. This is the pristine mind, a background hum of consciousness that has been here long before the first thought and will remain when all thoughts have drifted away. It is neither past nor future, neither gain nor loss. It is simply here, holding all things within itself as effortlessly as the universe holds the stars.
To rest in this awareness is to find ourselves in the infinite. For just as the universe is held in the fabric of space, so are we held in the space of awareness. Every thought, every sensation, is like a star appearing briefly before it fades, leaving behind only the spaciousness that allowed it to shine.
The Cosmic Background of Consciousness: Pristine Mind as Ever-Present
Within this awareness, we find a spaciousness that mirrors the universe itself. Like the dark energy that allows galaxies to drift apart, our pristine mind creates a field where every thought, every feeling, is given room to move, to soften, and to dissolve. “Flow with whatever may happen,” Chuang Tzu reminds us, “and let your mind be free. Stay centered by accepting whatever you are doing. This is the ultimate.”
Each experience, then, is like a star in the sky of awareness, appearing briefly, offering its light, and then fading back into the vastness. And just as stars arise from cosmic dust, so do our thoughts arise from the silent core of pristine mind, that spacious center in which all things come to rest. “Just as a snake sheds its skin,” the Buddha said, “we must shed our past over and over again.” This gentle shedding, this soft release, is the nature of awareness—it does not cling but allows each moment to pass, revealing the quiet freedom beneath.
Becoming the Witness: Resting in the Silent Center of Awareness
For pristine mind is a presence that does not hold or bind; it is a space that welcomes all and lets all go. In resting here, we come to understand what Lao Tzu meant when he said, “Empty yourself of everything. Let the mind become still. The ten thousand things rise and fall while the Self watches their return.” To rest in this awareness is to become the witness, the silent center, where all thoughts arise and fall without struggle, without effort.
And in this stillness, we find ourselves woven into the very fabric of the cosmos. Carl Sagan reminds us, “The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself.” To rest in pristine mind is to touch this knowing, to experience the universe’s boundless nature within us, and to realize that we, too, are spacious, that we, too, are made of light, held in the infinite quiet of awareness.
Here, in the boundless presence of pristine mind, we find a peace that transcends both the movement of thoughts and the quiet between them. For as Nisargadatta Maharaj said, “Wisdom tells me I am nothing. Love tells me I am everything. Between the two, my life flows.” In this flow, in this balance of presence and spaciousness, we find ourselves both as the space and the stars, the silence and the song, resting in the harmony of the universe itself.
Returning to Peace: Shifting the Center of Gravity to Pristine Mind
As we reflect on these metaphors, the vastness of the cosmos, and the boundless presence of awareness, there is an invitation here—to sense, even for a moment, where our own center of gravity lies. Does it feel that our awareness orbits around the fleeting mental events, letting thoughts, emotions, and sensations pull us into their gravity? Or can we, with gentleness, shift our narrative center of gravity back to pristine mind, that spacious and steady presence, which remains ever-present and unchanging?
This journey into pristine mind invites us to rest in the stillness beneath the passing thoughts, to find our true center in the vastness of awareness itself. And perhaps, as we come to recognize this quiet presence, we allow it to become the true gravity within us—a place of peace, of openness, and of infinite freedom. May we each find our way to rest in this boundless awareness, where the mind can finally let go, held in the quiet embrace of the universe itself.
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Orgyen Chowang’s Our Pristine Mind: A Practical Guide to Unconditional Happiness is a profound, accessible work that offers readers an experiential understanding of “pristine mind”—a state of inner clarity, peace, and freedom from the turbulence of thoughts and emotions. Chowang draws on Dzogchen, an ancient Tibetan Buddhist teaching, to guide readers toward recognizing the mind’s natural state, free from the conditioning of mental events. This book aligns beautifully with the themes in Pristine Mind and the Cosmos, illuminating how we can shift our awareness from transient thoughts to the unchanging center of consciousness. Our Pristine Mind serves as both a companion and a guide for readers inspired to deepen their journey into spacious awareness, making it an ideal complement to the cosmic metaphors and contemplations in this article.
Now that I’ve realized that the I-sense cannot directly experience the pristine mind, how can I use the spiritual practice of Neti Neti to help the ordinary mind and ego come closer to reflecting or mirroring the qualities of the pristine mind?
Dear friend,
There comes a time in our journey when a quiet realization emerges—a truth that feels as though it has always been with us, just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself. Such a moment is upon you now, and it is significant in ways that words can only begin to express.
You have recognized that the “I-sense,” that familiar feeling of being a separate self, can never truly experience the pristine mind. This pristine mind, pure and unconditioned, is not something that the “I” can grasp or hold onto, for it exists beyond the reach of the ego, beyond the realm of duality. This realization is profound, not because it offers a new task or goal, but because it gently dissolves the need for one. It invites you to rest in a deeper understanding, one that shifts the very ground of your practice.
This insight, like a seed planted in fertile soil, will grow and evolve within you, quietly reshaping how you experience both your inner and outer worlds. It is not a revelation to be rushed or forced, but one to be lived with, like a gentle companion who walks beside you. Let it unfold naturally, in its own time, revealing its layers to you in moments of stillness, in the spaces between your thoughts, and in the quiet rhythm of your breath.
There is a delicate balance here, one that I believe you are beginning to understand. The “I-sense” that has been so central to your experience is now seen in a new light—not as something to be conquered or eradicated, but as a reflection, a mirror that can, through practice, come to reflect the pristine mind itself. While the ego may never directly experience this pure awareness, it can soften, it can quiet, and it can become a more transparent window through which the light of the pristine mind can shine.
As you continue your practice, allow this understanding to deepen naturally. There is no need to strive or to reach for something just beyond your grasp. Instead, trust that this realization will guide you, like a current gently guiding a boat downstream. The anxiety of “doing it right” or the fear of “getting it wrong” begins to dissolve when you understand that the true goal is not a destination but a process—a process of becoming ever more transparent to the deeper reality that underlies all things.
This insight, my dear friend, is a gift. It is a doorway into a new way of being, one that is less about achieving and more about allowing. Allowing the mind to settle, allowing the self to soften, and allowing the light of the pristine mind to be reflected in the stillness of your being. It is in this allowing that you will find peace, not as something to be attained, but as something that naturally arises when the striving ceases.
For those who walk alongside you on this journey, let them take heart from your experience. Let them see that the path of self-discovery is not about perfection or attainment, but about quieting the mind, softening the heart, and opening to the truth that lies beyond the “I-sense.” In this way, we all come to reflect, however faintly at first, the light of the pristine mind.
Continue with your practice, dear friend, with the gentle assurance that you are exactly where you need to be. Each breath, each moment of stillness, brings you closer to the heart of this truth. Trust in the process, and let the realization grow within you, like a seed that blossoms into a flower at just the right time.
As we begin our exploration of the Ramayana through Venkatesananda’s version, it’s fascinating to revisit the early stages of this epic tale, particularly through the lens of Valmiki’s own transformation. In this version, we are reminded of how the sage first heard the Ramayana from Narada and later expanded upon it after a transformative experience with the hunter and his divine encounter with Brahma. This opening passage introduces us not only to the story of Rama but also to the profound personal growth of Valmiki, a theme that resonates deeply with our own spiritual journeys.
One particular quote stands out: “Yet, the mystery that even he could lose his temper and thus risk losing the merit of his asceticism intrigued him.”
This moment captures a crucial aspect of the human condition—our struggle to control our emotions, even after years of spiritual practice. For Valmiki, witnessing the hunter’s cruelty toward the birds brought forth both compassion and anger, leading him to curse the hunter. It’s a reminder that even great sages can lose their temper, risking their spiritual merit. For me, the Dalai Lama’s teachings on anger come to mind here—anger is often seen as the opposite of love, and when we give in to it, we lose touch with our pristine, true nature. But the important lesson is that we can always return to our senses, regain our inner peace, and continue on the path of righteousness.
This story, to me, also inspires compassion for ourselves. If even Valmiki, with all his ascetic discipline, could slip into anger, we too can forgive ourselves for the times we fall short. The key is recognizing these moments, learning from them, and using them as opportunities to realign with our higher purpose. Valmiki’s regret and his ability to transform his curse into a verse is a powerful reminder that even our missteps can lead to something greater, if approached with the right mindset.
In this retelling, Valmiki’s divine encounter with Brahma affirms the purpose of his story. Brahma reassures him that the verse he uttered, born out of both anger and compassion, is a blessing. From this moment of emotion, a profound epic was born—a story that would inspire righteousness, compassion, and wisdom for generations. This theme of duality—anger and compassion, curse and blessing—reflects the constant struggle humanity faces with its own dual nature.
What I find particularly compelling in this passage is how the Ramayana is positioned as medicine for a world in turmoil, a story that speaks to the heart of our modern struggles. Today, as in Valmiki’s time, people are often disconnected from their conscience, their true nature, and their pristine mind. This disconnect creates inner chaos, much like the mental fluctuations Valmiki experienced. The Ramayana, with its timeless wisdom, offers a path back to harmony with the divine. It reminds us that even in moments of anger or despair, there is always a way to transform that energy into something positive.
Valmiki’s transformation from anger to inspiration is a beautiful metaphor for our own lives. In the same way that he found his path through a moment of passion, we too can use our struggles as stepping stones toward greater understanding and compassion. The passion that Valmiki felt for the hunter’s cruelty was ultimately transformed into the creation of a story that would inspire righteousness and compassion for millennia.
As we continue this journey through the Ramayana, let us reflect on how we, too, can transform our moments of anger or frustration into opportunities for growth. The challenges we face—both internally and externally—are all part of our spiritual journey. Valmiki’s story is a powerful reminder that the path to self-realization is not without struggle, but each step along the way can lead us closer to our true selves.
In future posts, we’ll continue to explore the wisdom within this and other versions of the Ramayana, diving deeper into how these timeless stories offer guidance for our modern lives. Let’s stay open to the lessons each passage holds and, like Valmiki, allow our moments of weakness to be transformed into opportunities for growth and inspiration.
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