As I sit here in my yard, under the shade of tall trees and a sky so vast, I am reminded of the gentle teachings of impermanence. The pratyayas, those rising and falling sensations, memories, and thoughts, have once again surfaced, but they do not hold the weight they once did. Instead, there is a soft awareness that everything is already changing, and that in the grand scheme of time, everything is already gone.
I look over at my RV, which has been a sanctuary for me for so many years. Soon, this land will become something else, transformed into a clubhouse. And yet, in this moment, I am filled with deep appreciation for what has been, for the unconscious and conscious years spent on this blessed earth. The impermanence of it all doesn’t bring sadness, but rather a profound gratitude for having lived through it, both mindfully and unmindfully.
Namkhai Norbu’s sky-gazing practice teaches us to rest in the awareness of what is, without grasping or rejecting. In these moments of contemplation, I’m reminded that sky-gazing isn’t about observing the physical sky but allowing the mind to open into its own natural spaciousness. The practice reflects what is already within—clear, vast, and untouched by the clouds of thought.
As pratyayas of impermanence arise, they are met not with resistance but with curiosity. Curiosity has become my companion on this contemplative path, gently guiding me to rest in awareness without the need for answers or conclusions. There is no longer a push for meaning, only the quiet observation of the present moment unfolding, just as it is.
In this state of being, I can feel both the impermanence of the physical world and the abiding stillness of awareness. It is a paradox, and yet it is also the simplest truth: everything changes, and yet awareness remains the same.
The teachings of St. John of the Cross, Ramana Maharshi, and Namkhai Norbu all point to this truth in their own ways. We move through life, through our spiritual practices, sometimes seeking, sometimes grasping for deeper experiences. But there comes a moment when we simply stop, when we rest in the spaciousness that has always been there. It is not a state we attain; it is a state we remember.
As I continue this practice, I feel a deep gratitude, not just for the present moment, but for all that has been and all that will come. And in this gratitude, the pratyayas seem to soften, leaving behind the quiet awareness that is always there, patiently waiting for us to return.
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.
“Having known the Self, which is awareness, there is nothing more to know. That which is, is consciousness itself. To seek it elsewhere is to wander far away.”
— Ramana Maharshi, Forty Verses on Reality
There comes a moment in each of our lives when the questions that have followed us, haunting our thoughts, cease to carry the same weight. It is as though we have been wandering through a vast wilderness, searching endlessly for something, only to realize that it has been with us all along. This, Ramana tells us, is the moment of true knowledge—the moment when we recognize the Self, and in doing so, find that there is nothing more to seek.
This knowledge is not like the knowing of facts or the gathering of worldly wisdom. It is the unveiling of the very essence of awareness, that which sees all, yet remains unseen. To touch this awareness is to come home, to realize that the search has always been for ourselves.
And how often we search elsewhere! How often we cast our gaze into the far distance, imagining that the truth lies in some distant land, or hidden in the words of another. But Ramana reminds us that to seek it elsewhere is to wander further from the source. The truth we seek does not live in far-off places; it lives in the heart of our own being, as close as breath, as present as this very moment.
Like a mirror reflecting all without judgment, true knowledge is the simple, clear awareness of what is. When we come to see that all that exists is consciousness itself, we are no longer captivated by the shadows on the wall. We see, instead, the light—the steady, unwavering light of awareness, which has been with us from the beginning.
To know the Self is to realize that there is nowhere else to go. The seeking ends, and in its place arises a quiet, unshakable peace. It is not the end of curiosity or wonder, but the end of searching outside ourselves for what can only be found within.
To know that there is nothing more to seek is not to say there is nothing more to do. In the realization that the Self has always been present, there is still the practice of abiding, of resting in the gentle awareness that is always here. It is this abiding, this quiet discipline of being, that becomes the ongoing practice.
Yes, the search has ended, but the journey of returning, over and over again, to the pristine mind continues. For in this ordinary mind—this space filled with distractions, thoughts, and the pull of the world—there is the temptation to forget, to stray from the simplicity of awareness. And so, we practice. Not as seekers anymore, but as those who have touched the truth and wish to live in its light.
The practice now is not one of effortful striving, but of allowing—of surrendering into the effortless effort, the gentle doing of non-doing. This is where the paradox lives: to rest in what is, and yet remain disciplined in that rest. It is not that there is nothing more to do, but rather that what is to be done is a continual letting go, a surrendering to the ever-present awareness that requires nothing from us but our willingness to be with it.
And so, we abide. With each breath, with each passing moment, we return—not to search, but to rest. And though the Self needs no searching, the practice of staying with it remains. In this, there is the dance of wu-wei, the graceful action of inaction, the peaceful unfolding of all that is.
Perhaps one day the effort, too, will fall away, and only the abiding will remain.
Coming Up Next: Verse 4
In the next verse, we will reflect on the nature of thought and the root of all actions. How do our thoughts shape our reality, and what lies at the core of true understanding? Join us as we continue this journey through the depths of Ramana Maharshi’s teachings.
“Reality exists as the Heart, your very Being. If Reality did not exist, could there be any knowledge of existence? Free from all thoughts, Reality abides in the Heart, the Source of all thoughts. It is, therefore, called the Heart. How then is one to contemplate it? To be as it is in the Heart, is Its contemplation.”
— Ramana Maharshi, Forty Verses on Reality
The Heart of Reality
In the stillness of our being, where thoughts dissolve like mist under the sun, we come upon the essence of reality—the Heart, our very existence. This Heart is not a distant concept, a mere abstraction; it pulses with the life that courses through us, inviting us to recognize that our true nature is intricately woven into the fabric of all that is.
What if reality, in its purest form, did not exist? Could we then grasp the very notion of existence, the flicker of awareness that dances in our minds? Each thought, each fleeting moment of recognition, springs forth from this source, the Heart, which abides in silence beyond the noise of our incessant chatter.
To contemplate this truth is not to embark on a journey of the mind but rather to return home, to dwell as we are in the Heart itself. Here, in this sacred space, contemplation transforms into a state of being, a surrender to the profound simplicity of what is. We find ourselves not as separate seekers but as the very essence of the inquiry—a realization that calls us to rest in the Heart, to know ourselves as we truly are.
For many years, I carried a fog of confusion around the word “heart,” a tangle of meanings that seemed to obscure more than they revealed. I remember being in circles where people would say, “Come from your heart,” and I would listen, trying to grasp the depth of what they meant. Often, it seemed to point toward emotion, to some form of deeper truth that was still bound in the personal—an authentic expression of ego, perhaps a sincerity in feeling, but still caught in the dualities of love and pain, fear and longing.
But what did it mean, really, to come from the heart?
In the midst of this confusion, Ramana’s words come like a gentle clearing of the fog. The heart, as he speaks of it, is not the emotional center we so often equate with the word. It is not the place of fluctuating feelings, nor is it simply a retreat from the mind’s logical discourse. What Ramana points to is something far deeper: the heart as the essence, the source of pure awareness itself.
This reminds me of the self as Carl Jung describes it—not just the conscious mind, but the unconscious, and not just those personal aspects, but everything, the entire universe and reality. Jung’s idea of the Self expands far beyond the individual, reaching into the totality of existence itself, much like Ramana’s use of the word heart. In this sense, Reality, the Self, and the Heart all point to the same fundamental truth—the essence that underlies both duality and non-duality, the very nature of what is.
In both Jung and Ramana’s teachings, we see that the self, or reality, is not something to be sought outside of ourselves or separated from the world. As Jesus says, we are to be in the world but not of the world. This aligns perfectly with the non-dual teaching: there is no need to escape the dualities of life to realize non-duality. Instead, we are invited to recognize that the essence of duality itself is non-dual.
To come from the heart, then, is not merely to speak from personal truth or emotion, but to rest in the deeper awareness that embraces all experience without attachment. It is to be anchored in the non-dual essence of Reality, knowing that even in the world of forms and opposites, the underlying truth remains whole, undivided.
And yet, how often we use the word “heart” to point to something else—something closer to our personal feelings or opinions, mistaking emotional honesty for the deeper truth of our being. But here, in this teaching, the heart is revealed as the true source of non-dual clarity, the place from which true forgiveness, compassion, and love naturally arise—not as personal qualities, but as emanations of our most pure self.
As I reflect on this teaching in, it becomes clear that the heart Ramana speaks of is not a center of personal feelings or emotion, but the eternal essence that transcends the body and mind. This heart, or true Self, is the witness that remains even when personal identity fades. In some ways, this description feels similar to the concept of the Holy Spirit or God, which abides within and beyond us.
When we speak of the heart as Ramana does, we are pointing to the essence of pure awareness, the unchanging “I” that exists beyond the temporary forms of the body and ego. This teaching invites us to recognize the heart as the source of non-dual awareness, a presence that continues even when the personal self dissolves.
Coming Up Next: Verse 2
In the next reflection, we will explore how those who know the Self are deathless, transcending the fear of mortality. We’ll delve into the liberation found in surrendering to the Divine, awakening to the eternal nature of existence beyond the physical realm.
There is something about preparing for a storm that feels like a dance with the Divine—both a surrender and a determined act of mindfulness. As I sit here in the quiet hours before evacuation, I realize that this has been more than just a physical process of gathering what I need. It has been an intimate spiritual journey, one that stretches my capacity to trust, to let go, and to deepen into the lived experience of the present moment.
Living with chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS) means that every action I take must be intentional. Every task requires careful pacing, every moment of activity balanced with long periods of rest. There is a delicate art to navigating this kind of preparation, especially during a post-exertional malaise (PEM) crash. Yet, somehow, this storm has become a mirror—reflecting back the inner landscape of my spiritual practice, calling me into a deeper relationship with contemplation, with surrender, and with faith.
The Importance of Pacing I began the preparations by gathering what I would take with me: clothes, medications, bedding, and electronics—just enough to fill a small suitcase and backpack. For most, this might seem like a simple task. For me, it was an act of delicate pacing. I worked in small bursts, then returned to rest, mindful of the balance I needed to maintain in order to avoid worsening my symptoms. Each step of preparation became a meditation on pacing, on honoring the limitations of my body while trusting in my ability to persevere.
In these moments of rest, I found myself returning again and again to the practice of contemplation. I lit a candle, not only for myself but for all those who are suffering—for all sentient beings in the path of this storm and beyond. There is a peace that arises in this kind of surrender. A quiet knowing that, no matter how much preparation is done, the outcome rests in God’s hands. And that, somehow, is enough.
A Shift from Meditation to Contemplation This journey has been more than just practical preparation. It has been a spiritual unfolding. For years, I have studied the teachings of Advaita Vedanta and Dzogchen, exploring the ways in which these paths guide us beyond intellectual understanding and into a direct experience of the Divine. In the midst of preparing for this hurricane, I felt a deepening—a shift from meditation to contemplation.
Contemplation is not about thinking or striving. It is about resting in the space of the witness, in the awareness of what is, without grasping or resisting. As the storm approaches, I find myself leaning more into this practice. Each moment becomes an invitation to let go of control, to allow the Divine to move through me, and to trust that whatever happens, it is part of a greater unfolding.
Mindful Eating and Body Awareness Even the simple act of eating became a mindful practice. I prepared a spontaneous meal—scrambled eggs with garlic and cayenne, rich in healthy fats and protein to fuel me through the day. As I ate, I focused on each bite, slowing down, tasting, being fully present with the nourishment my body needed.
In the midst of so much uncertainty, these small acts of mindfulness brought me back to center. They reminded me that, even as the world outside seemed to spin with chaos, I could find peace within the present moment. I could honor my body’s needs, even as I prepared to enter an unfamiliar shelter and face whatever lay ahead.
Pacing the Preparation of the RV As I packed my belongings, I also prepared my RV, the place I call home. I moved slowly, bringing frozen food to the clubhouse, unplugging the RV, securing what needed to be secured. I paced myself, taking each step with intention, aware that my energy was limited and precious.
There is something sacred about these practical tasks, when approached with mindfulness. They become a part of the spiritual practice, a way of aligning the outer world with the inner. In unplugging the RV, I was also unplugging from the need to control. In securing my belongings, I was also securing my faith—trusting that whatever happens, I am held by something greater than myself.
Karma Yoga: Offering and Receiving Prayers During this time, I also turned to the practice of Karma Yoga—offering prayers for the world, while asking for prayers in return. I posted a prayer request on Facebook, asking my community to hold me, and all those in the storm’s path, in their hearts. The response was overwhelming. The outpouring of love, of people offering their prayers and well wishes, became a source of strength for me. It reminded me that, even in times of uncertainty, we are never alone. We are held by the compassion of others, by the grace of the Divine, by the interconnectedness of all life.
Surrender and Trust And so, I surrender. I surrender to whatever will be, knowing that I have done all I can to prepare—both physically and spiritually. I surrender to the wisdom of the Divine, trusting that, in the midst of this storm, there is a deeper unfolding happening. There is a lesson in the letting go, in the release of control, in the peace that comes from trusting that God’s will is always unfolding in ways that we may not understand, but can still embrace.
To those who read this, who are also navigating life with chronic fatigue syndrome or facing similar challenges, I hope this reflection offers you some sense of peace. We cannot always control the storms that come our way, but we can choose how we prepare, how we respond, and how we anchor ourselves in the presence of the Divine.
May you be safe. May you be held. May you find peace in the midst of the storm.
In the quiet hours of prayer, contemplation and meditation, it’s natural to hope that all the time and energy devoted to spiritual practice would lead to a profound sense of being in a spiritually “good place.” After all, when you pour your heart into understanding the deeper truths of existence, there’s an expectation that the fruits of this labor should be evident—peace, clarity, and a steady sense of progress.
Yet, the journey of spiritual growth is often far more complex and subtle than we anticipate. It’s not a straight path with clear markers of progress, but rather a winding road filled with unexpected turns, peaks, and valleys. Even with the most dedicated practice, there can be moments when you don’t feel as spiritually grounded or advanced as you might hope. These moments can be perplexing, leaving you wondering why, despite all your efforts, you don’t feel as though you’re where you “should” be.
One of the first realizations on this path is that spiritual growth is not a linear process. It doesn’t follow a simple trajectory of consistent upward progress. Instead, it’s a dynamic and often unpredictable journey. There are times of clarity and deep connection, where everything seems to fall into place, and times of confusion, where doubt and uncertainty creep in. What may feel like a setback or a period of stagnation could actually be a vital part of your deeper growth—an integration phase where the insights you’ve gained are settling into your being.
Another aspect to consider is the expectations that the mind creates. The mind often forms ideas about what spiritual progress should look like—perhaps a constant state of peace, detachment from worldly concerns, or a sense of enlightenment that transcends daily struggles. When reality doesn’t match these expectations, it can lead to frustration and a sense of inadequacy. However, true spiritual growth often occurs beneath the surface, in ways that are not immediately visible or even consciously felt. The changes may be subtle, shifting how you respond to challenges, deepening your capacity for compassion, or fostering a quiet resilience that wasn’t there before.
A crucial part of this journey is learning to accept where you are in the present moment without judgment. This includes embracing feelings of doubt, frustration, or uncertainty as natural parts of the human experience. These emotions are not signs of failure or lack of progress, but rather aspects of the path that invite you to deepen your practice of self-acceptance. Recognizing and allowing these feelings to be, without trying to force them away or judge them, can be a profound spiritual practice in itself.
In this process, self-compassion becomes an essential ally. It’s important to be gentle with yourself as you navigate the ups and downs of the spiritual path. The goal is not to reach a specific destination but to be present with yourself through all the fluctuations of life. Self-compassion allows you to honor your efforts and your humanity, acknowledging that growth isn’t always about visible results but about the ongoing commitment to living with intention and awareness.
There is also the reality that progress isn’t always visible. Sometimes, the growth you’re experiencing spiritually isn’t something you can easily measure or feel. It may be happening internally, in ways that you can’t yet recognize. Trusting in the process and knowing that your efforts are meaningful, even when they don’t produce immediate, tangible results, is key. The work you’re doing in contemplation and meditation is laying the groundwork for ongoing transformation, even if it’s not always apparent.
Letting go of the idea of a “spiritually good place” can also be liberating. This notion can create a sense of pressure or inadequacy, as though where you are now isn’t good enough. But spirituality isn’t about reaching a final state of being; it’s about the ongoing discovery, learning, and connection with the deeper aspects of yourself. Every moment, including those filled with doubt or struggle, is an integral part of the spiritual journey. These moments are not obstacles to overcome but experiences that shape and refine your understanding and compassion.
In reflecting on this, it’s also helpful to remember that, just as with the countless acts of quiet goodness and resilience that exist in the world, your spiritual growth might be unfolding in ways that are subtle and quiet, but no less profound. The efforts you make, the practices you engage in, and the intentions you hold are all contributing to your growth, whether you can see it in the moment or not.
So, if you ever find yourself questioning where you are on your spiritual path, take a step back and consider the possibility that you are exactly where you need to be. The journey of spiritual growth is ongoing, and every effort you make is a meaningful part of that journey. Even the moments that feel like setbacks are opportunities for deeper reflection and growth.
In those moments when the weight of expectations or the sense of stagnation feels heavy, it may be wise to rest, to reflect on your journey, and to remind yourself that progress is not always about the destination but about the journey itself. You’re already doing the work, and that, in itself, is a sign of deep commitment and progress.
The spiritual path is not about perfection or reaching a final state of enlightenment. It’s about being present with yourself, embracing the journey with all its complexities, and trusting that every step you take is leading you closer to the true essence of who you are.
In the realm of spiritual exploration, metaphors often hold the key to deeper understanding. One such metaphor is the idea that “you can’t look at your own eyes without a mirror.” This simple yet profound statement serves as a powerful analogy for the process of self-awareness and the journey to realizing the true Self.
The Eyes as a Metaphor for Awareness
Our eyes are the instruments through which we perceive the world. They allow us to see and interact with the physical reality around us. But despite their essential role in vision, our eyes cannot see themselves directly. To view our own eyes, we need a mirror—an external reflection that allows us to see what is otherwise hidden from direct perception.
In the same way, our awareness—our true Self—is the instrument through which we perceive all experiences. It is the ever-present subject that observes thoughts, emotions, sensations, and the world at large. Yet, just like our eyes, this awareness cannot directly observe itself. It remains elusive, hidden in plain sight, the observer that can never be observed.
Through the Mirror of Practice: Awareness Observing Its Own Emanations
In the journey of self-inquiry and meditation, we create a space where awareness has the opportunity to observe its own emanations—not as separate reflections, but as fluctuations that arise from and return to our true nature. Just as ripples on the surface of a pond reveal the water beneath, these fluctuations are manifestations of the pure awareness that underlies all experience.
When we sit in meditation or engage in self-inquiry, we often notice thoughts, emotions, and sensations arising and passing away. These mental activities can be understood as emanations from the true Self. They are not separate from awareness but are expressions of it, unfolding within the field of consciousness. Each thought or sensation is like a wave that temporarily takes form before dissolving back into the ocean of awareness.
The Process of Observing Emanations
As we practice, we begin to notice that these fluctuations are not distinct from the awareness in which they arise. Initially, our focus might be on the content of these emanations—the thoughts, feelings, and experiences that surface during meditation. But over time, the focus can shift to the awareness that generates and observes these emanations. We start to recognize that this awareness is always present, the source from which all experiences emerge and to which they return.
This shift is crucial because it moves us from identifying with the objects of awareness (the emanations) to identifying with the source itself (the awareness). Through this process, we begin to see that we are not the transient thoughts or sensations, but the unchanging awareness that produces and witnesses them. This awareness is the true Self—the essence that remains constant through all fluctuations.
Beyond Emanations: Resting in Pure Awareness
The fluctuations we observe in meditation and self-inquiry are not merely reflections; they are emanations arising from our true nature. While observing these emanations can guide us toward self-understanding, the ultimate realization comes when we recognize that they are not separate from the awareness that witnesses them.
As our practice deepens, we come to a point where we no longer need to focus on these emanations. Instead, we can rest in the awareness itself, knowing that all fluctuations arise from and dissolve back into this unchanging reality. In this state, we no longer seek understanding through the transient activities of the mind but directly experience the pure, unconditioned awareness that is our true essence.
Resting in pure awareness is a state of being where the mind’s fluctuations no longer dominate our experience. These emanations may still arise, but they no longer distract us from the deeper truth of our existence. We begin to live more fully from the perspective of the silent witness, the true Self, which remains untouched by the comings and goings of mental phenomena.
The Role of Reflection in Self-Awareness
If awareness cannot directly see itself, how then do we come to know our true nature? Just as we use a mirror to see our eyes, we use the practice of reflection to gain insight into the nature of awareness. This reflection doesn’t involve a physical mirror, but rather the mirror of self-inquiry, meditation, and contemplation.
Through these practices, we create a space in which awareness can observe the fluctuations of itself in the mind’s activities. By asking questions like “Who am I?” or “What am I?” we direct our attention inward, towards the source of our awareness. In the process, we begin to see the emanations of our true nature, just as we see the reflection of our eyes in a mirror.
However, it’s crucial to understand that these emanations are not the awareness itself—they are simply the forms that awareness takes as it interacts with the mind. By observing these emanations, we begin to notice that there is something constant behind them: the awareness that remains unchanged even as thoughts and sensations come and go.
The Journey to Self-Realization
Understanding that you cannot look at your own eyes without a mirror can lead to a deeper appreciation of the journey towards self-realization. This journey is not about finding the true Self as an object, but about recognizing that the true Self is the one who is always observing. The practices of meditation, self-inquiry, and contemplation are the mirrors that help us catch glimpses of our true nature.
But these practices are also stepping stones, guiding us to a place where we can finally let go of the need for emanations. In the silence of pure awareness, beyond thoughts and concepts, we come to rest in the realization that we are not the emanations in the mirror, but the awareness that makes all emanation possible.
Conclusion: The Unseen Seer
The metaphor of not being able to look at your own eyes without a mirror serves as a powerful reminder of the nature of awareness. It invites us to explore the process of self-reflection, not in search of an objectified self, but to recognize the ever-present subject—the true Self—that cannot be observed directly.
In the end, the journey of self-awareness is about shifting our focus from the emanations in the mirror to the awareness that perceives them. It is about realizing that the true Self, like the eyes that see the world, is the unseen seer, the silent witness of all experience. And in this realization, we find the essence of who we truly are.
In stillness we rest, Not the mirror’s fleeting form, But the source of light.
Experiencing Prayer as a Profound Connection with the Divine
Introduction
In many religious traditions, prayer is often perceived as a means of making requests or interceding on behalf of others. Yet, a deeper understanding of prayer reveals it as a profound opportunity for communion with the Divine. This post explores how we can transform our approach to prayer from one of mere requests to a rich, personal connection with God, drawing from various spiritual traditions.
Exploring Contemplative Practices
Contemplative prayer, practiced in Christianity and other traditions, focuses on fostering an intimate connection with the Divine. In Christianity, contemplative prayer invites believers into a space of stillness and receptivity. For instance, the use of repetitive phrases like “Maranatha” helps to open one’s heart to God’s presence, moving beyond mere supplications to a deeper, more personal engagement.
Similarly, in Buddhism, practices such as Shikantaza, or “Just Sitting,” and Shamatha, or “Calm-Abiding,” cultivate mental clarity and a direct experience of the divine in the present moment. Shikantaza encourages a state of pure awareness, where one simply exists without distraction, while Shamatha develops stability and focus, paving the way for a deeper spiritual connection.
Jewish mystical traditions also contribute to this understanding. Practices like Bittul, the surrender of the ego, and Hitbonenut, profound contemplation, emphasize the experience of God’s presence through the negation of self and deep reflection.
Scriptural Insights on Personal Communion
Jesus’s own practices highlight the importance of personal communion with God. His retreat into the desert for 40 days and nights and His frequent solitary prayers illustrate a model for seeking direct connection with the Divine. Jesus’s teachings, such as in John 15:4-5, where He speaks of abiding in Him, suggest a deep, personal relationship with God. Similarly, Matthew 6:6 emphasizes private prayer as a means of engaging intimately with the Divine.
Jesus used parables to invite personal reflection and insight into God’s kingdom, and His statements about divine unity, like in John 14:20, suggest an intimate, experiential knowledge of God. These elements point to a mystical dimension of prayer, where personal experience and direct connection with the Divine are central.
Comparison of Intercessional Prayer and Direct Communion Prayer
Intercessional prayer and direct communion prayer serve distinct purposes in the spiritual journey, each offering unique approaches to connecting with the Divine.
Intercessional Prayer
Intercessional prayer focuses on making requests or petitions, often on behalf of others. This type of prayer involves asking God to intervene in specific situations, whether for healing, guidance, or support. It emphasizes the role of prayer as a means of advocating for one’s needs or the needs of others. In many Christian traditions, intercessional prayer is a vital aspect of communal worship and personal devotion, highlighting the belief in a God who responds to our requests and concerns. For example, praying for a friend’s recovery or for peace in the world exemplifies this approach.
Direct Communion Prayer
In contrast, direct communion prayer emphasizes a more intimate and experiential connection with the Divine. Rather than focusing on specific requests, this practice seeks to foster a deep, personal relationship with God through stillness, contemplation, and presence. Practices such as contemplative prayer, Shikantaza (Just Sitting), and Bittul aim to transcend the act of asking and enter a space of pure being and direct experience of God’s presence. This approach is less about seeking specific outcomes and more about experiencing a profound union with the Divine. The goal is to immerse oneself in the Divine presence, as seen in the practices of Christian mystics like St. John of the Cross and St. Francis of Assisi, who sought a direct, personal communion with God.
Historical Context and Institutional Influence
The Church’s role as an intermediary historically shaped the understanding and practice of prayer. The focus was often on external rituals and mediation, which influenced how individuals experienced and related to the Divine. This approach sometimes overshadowed the potential for personal, direct communion with God.
However, throughout history, Christian mystics and contemplatives have emphasized direct experience with the Divine. For example:
St. John of the Cross explored the “dark night of the soul,” a profound spiritual purification leading to union with God beyond ordinary experiences.
Teresa of Avila focused on deep, contemplative prayer and mystical experiences, offering insights into personal connection with the Divine.
St. Francis of Assisi exemplified a life of profound spiritual simplicity and deep communion with God, expressed through his love for creation and his radical commitment to poverty. His life was a testament to the possibility of experiencing and embodying divine presence in everyday life.
These figures highlight a tradition of exploring direct and personal connections with the Divine, which contrasts with more institutionalized approaches that focus on intermediary roles and external forms.
Conclusion
Transforming our understanding of prayer from mere requests to a form of communion invites us to deepen our connection with the Divine. By embracing contemplative practices and exploring personal experiences of God, we can enrich our spiritual journey and cultivate a more profound and intimate relationship with the Divine. This journey into mystical prayer and contemplation underscores the value of seeking direct, personal experiences of the Divine, transcending conventional practices to embrace a deeper, more profound spirituality.
Reflective Questions
How do you currently experience prayer in your spiritual practice? Are there ways you could deepen this experience to foster a more personal connection with the Divine?
In what moments of solitude have you felt a profound sense of communion with God or the Divine? How can you cultivate more of these moments in your daily life?
How do the contemplative practices discussed resonate with your own spiritual journey? Are there specific practices or elements you feel drawn to explore further?
Reflect on a time when a mystical or contemplative experience significantly impacted your understanding of spirituality. What insights or transformations emerged from that experience?
How does the historical context of prayer and mysticism influence your current approach to prayer? Are there any historical figures or practices that inspire you to deepen your spiritual practice?
Feel free to share your thoughts, experiences, or any questions in the comments section below. I look forward to engaging with your reflections and exploring these ideas further together.
Welcome to this guided practice designed to deepen your understanding of self-inquiry and non-duality. This practice invites you to explore the nature of the “I-thought” as an expression of Brahman or pristine mind. By engaging in this practice, you can cultivate a deeper sense of unity and awareness, recognizing all experiences as manifestations of the same fundamental reality.
Introduction to the Practice
Self-inquiry is a profound method for exploring the nature of the self and its relationship to the broader reality. This practice involves contemplating the question “What is this?” and recognizing that all experiences which arise are mental events and expressions of the pristine mind. It encourages a non-judgmental, open inquiry that allows insights, which are also mental events and expressions of the pristine mind, to arise naturally. Whether you are new to self-inquiry or have been practicing for some time, this approach can help deepen your understanding and bring greater clarity and peace.
Review of Insights for Practice 1: Self-Inquiry (Atma Vichara)
Key Insights to Consider:
1. Nature of the I-Thought:
The “I-Thought” is simply a mental event, a vritti, or a pratyaya.
Just like waves in the ocean, the “I-Thought” is an expression of the same underlying awareness (pristine mind).
2. Non-Dual Awareness:
Mental events and pristine mind are not separate; they are one. This reflects the Zen saying, “Not one, not two.”
Atman (individual self) and Brahman (universal self) are essentially the same. The realization that Atman is Brahman is key to understanding non-duality.
3. Unity of Experience:
What appears as two (fluctuations of mind and calm mind) is actually one unified experience.
The fluctuations of mind (vrittis) arise and dissolve in the same awareness, which remains unchanged and ever-present.
4. Witnessing Awareness:
The witness or the “I” experiencing pure awareness is not the ego but the true Self (Atman), which is equanimously free from attachment and aversion.
Self-realization involves recognizing this witness and understanding that it is ultimately one with the universal Self (Brahman).
Practice 1: Self-Inquiry (Atma Vichara)
1. Find a Quiet Space:
Sit comfortably in a place where you won’t be disturbed.
2. Focus on the Breath:
Take a few deep breaths to settle the mind. Allow your breath to become natural and relaxed.
3. Ask the Question:
Gently introduce the question: “Who am I?” or “What is this I-Thought?” Let the question arise naturally in your mind.
4. Investigate the I-Thought:
Notice when the “I” arises in your thoughts. Ask yourself, “To whom does this thought occur?”
Recognize that the one claiming ownership of the thought is itself another mental event. For example, “I am thinking this” or “This is my thought.”
Observe this sense of “I” and inquire, “What is the source of this I-Thought?”
5. Rest in Awareness:
When thoughts or answers arise, don’t engage with them. Simply notice them and return to the question.
Recognize that the “I-Thought” and the thoughts recognizing it are mental events, like waves in the ocean.
See all these mental events as expressions of Brahman or pristine mind.
6. Deeper Reflection:
Reflect on the Zen saying, “Not one, not two.” Contemplate how the “I-Thought” and the awareness of the “I-Thought” are not separate.
Consider how mental events, including the “I-Thought,” arise and dissolve in the same awareness.
7. Allow Space for Insights:
Give space for insights to arise naturally. There is no need to force understanding; let it unfold in its own time.
8. Conclude with Gratitude:
End your session with a moment of gratitude for the practice and any insights that may have arisen.
Deepening the Practice of Self-Inquiry:
1. Maintain Awareness of the Inquiry:
As you contemplate, “What is this?” allow the question to permeate your awareness. Let it be a gentle, persistent inquiry that you return to whenever you notice your mind wandering.
2. Recognize All Experiences as Expressions:
Continuously remind yourself that all thoughts, sensations, and perceptions are expressions of Brahman or pristine mind. This helps dissolve the perceived separation between the observer and the observed.
3. Stay Present with the Experience:
Fully immerse yourself in the present moment, observing how thoughts and sensations arise and dissolve. Notice the underlying awareness that remains constant amidst these fluctuations.
4. Allow Insights to Arise Naturally:
Avoid the urge to intellectually grasp or analyze the insights. Instead, allow understanding to arise naturally as you maintain a state of open inquiry.
5. Embrace Non-Judgmental Awareness:
Observe without judgment. Whether the mind is active or calm, recognize both states as expressions of Brahman. This non-judgmental awareness fosters a deeper acceptance of your experience.
6. Integrate the Zen Question:
When you ask, “What is this?” apply it to everything in your experience—thoughts, sensations, emotions, the sense of self. Allow the question to deepen your sense of curiosity and openness.
7. Rest in the Awareness:
When moments of clarity or stillness arise, rest in that awareness. Recognize that this stillness is not separate from the fluctuations but the very ground of all expressions.
8. Periodic Reflection:
Take moments during and after your practice to reflect on your experiences. How does the inquiry feel? What insights are emerging? How is your sense of self transforming?
9. Practice Consistently:
Regular practice is key. Set aside dedicated time each day to engage in this inquiry, allowing the depth of understanding to gradually unfold.
10. Conclude with Gratitude and Dedication:
End your sessions by expressing gratitude for the practice and any insights gained. Dedicate the merit of your practice to the benefit of all beings.
Conclusion
By maintaining this approach, you’ll be able to deepen your realization of non-duality and experience the unity of all expressions with the pristine mind. Let me know how the practice goes and if there are any specific experiences or questions you’d like to explore further.
Practice Reinforcement
Self-Inquiry:
Continue with self-inquiry by keeping the focus on witnessing the source of the “I-Thought” and recognizing it as an expression of Brahman.
2. Regular Reflection:
Spend a few moments each day reflecting on your true nature as an expression of Brahman. This regular contemplation can deepen your realization.
3. Mindful Awareness:
Practice mindful awareness in all activities, noticing how each moment is an expression of the same underlying reality.
Reflection Points:
Who or what is the I-Thought?: Reflect on your experience of the “I-Thought” during your practice. How does it feel to inquire into its nature?
Non-Dual Awareness: Contemplate the unity of mental events and pristine mind. How does this realization impact your sense of self and awareness?
How does recognizing thoughts and sensations as expressions of Brahman impact your sense of self and awareness?
What insights arise when you inquire, “What is this?” in relation to your current experience?
Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments section below. Your participation helps create a supportive community for all those seeking inner peace and mindfulness.
Review of Chapters 1-6 with Personal Reflections and Contemplative Insights
In St. John of the Cross’s timeless masterpiece, “The Dark Night of the Soul,” he intricately details the soul’s profound journey towards spiritual union with the divine. Each chapter unveils layers of purification and surrender, guiding us through the depths of spiritual transformation.
Chapter 1: The Soul’s Longing
Chapter 1 begins with a poignant exploration of the soul’s yearning for divine connection. St. John describes how this longing initiates the soul’s journey through darkness and detachment from earthly desires. Personally, I resonate deeply with this chapter as it mirrors my own quest for deeper spiritual fulfillment amidst life’s challenges.
Chapter 2: Detachment from Earthly Desires
In Chapter 2, St. John delves into the dark night of the senses, where the soul undergoes purification from sensory attachments. This resonates with my journey of letting go of material expectations due to chronic fatigue syndrome, guiding me to embrace spiritual detachment as a path to inner peace.
Chapter 3: Purification of the Spirit
The dark night of the spirit unfolds in Chapter 3, where St. John explores the soul’s purification at its deepest level. This chapter teaches me the profound art of surrender, where I’m learning to release attachments and find solace in divine presence amidst life’s uncertainties.
Chapter 4: Surrendering to Divine Transformation
Chapter 4 amplifies the soul’s journey through surrender, where St. John emphasizes letting go of spiritual consolations for a deeper union with God. This chapter inspires me to embrace a profound level of surrender, trusting in divine guidance as I navigate life’s challenges and joys.
Chapter 5: Awakening to Divine Love
In Chapter 5, St. John illuminates the soul’s awakening to divine love through complete purification and detachment. This chapter encourages me to deepen my awareness of the divine presence in every moment, cultivating a profound sense of inner peace and spiritual fulfillment.
Chapter 6: Recognizing the Divine in All
Finally, Chapter 6 culminates in the soul’s recognition of the divine presence in all aspects of existence. Inspired by Jesus’ teachings on spiritual perception, this chapter guides me towards seeing God in everyone and everything, fostering a transformative journey of spiritual growth and awakening.
Reflective Questions for Contemplation:
1. How does the concept of surrender resonate with your own spiritual journey?
2. In what ways can detachment from earthly desires deepen your sense of inner peace?
3. How do you currently perceive the divine presence in your daily life and interactions?
4. What practices or teachings inspire you to embrace spiritual growth and union with the divine?
Feel free to share your reflections, insights, or experiences in the comments below. Let’s embark on this journey of spiritual exploration together!
If you’re interested in learning more about this book, follow this link below to the Amazon website.
This blog post integrates St. John of the Cross’s teachings with personal reflections and invites readers to engage in contemplation and discussion. As we navigate our spiritual paths, may we find inspiration and guidance in embracing deeper levels of surrender, purification, and divine union.
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