As human beings, we have a lot of practical understanding—a lot of experience, a lot of intelligence, a lot of knowledge. Our minds can do amazing things. But that’s not the kind of understanding I’m pointing to in this book. What I’m talking about is radiant awareness: the pure, creative, intelligent force that animates this universe. We can call it awareness, God, divine consciousness… We have so many names for it, but ultimately we don’t know what it is. And yet, we are that.
There’s a place for knowing about and understanding things on an intellectual level, certainly. This is where it’s important to distinguish clearly as to whether we’re speaking relatively or absolutely. On the relative level, practical knowledge is of course very useful. What to eat, how to do your job, how to take care of yourself on a human level—these are obviously areas where specific practical knowledge is essential.
The teaching I’m conveying in this book, however, is not fundamentally about practical functioning. This is about becoming liberated, about becoming truly and unconditionally happy, and in that realm—the realm of opening, expanding, and letting go—knowing from the mental perspective can often be a kind of restriction.
“Knowing” about spirituality—the accumulation of spiritual concepts, ideas about what spiritual progress or spiritual realization looks like—can be used by the separate, identified self as a defense against real transformation. Of course spiritual concepts and knowledge can be useful at certain points on the path. They can inspire us and help keep us focused and motivated. But ultimately, spiritual concepts must be discarded along with all other limiting ideas. Otherwise they can form a kind of “spiritual” identity, which can be very difficult to extricate oneself from.
So there’s certainly a place for knowing and understanding on a practical level and on an intellectual level. But when it comes to real transformation, the truth lies in not knowing—in leaving all your ideas and concepts about spirituality behind and allowing yourself to rest in the direct experience of reality itself, beyond all ideas and concepts.
I want to introduce what might be the most basic practice of all, which is simply bringing attention to what’s happening.
Take a moment when you’re alone, sitting in your room. You’re not listening to music, not watching television. You’re not interacting with another person. You’re just sitting quietly.
Now look, and let there be just looking. Let yourself simply see what’s in front of you—without thinking about it, without labeling it, without knowing anything about it. If there’s furniture in front of you, for instance, don’t think furniture or chair, or that it’s covered in leather or cloth, or that it’s this or that color. Rather, let yourself simply see what’s there, without projections, preconceptions, or interpretations, as if you had never seen anything like it before.
Now turn your attention to sound. Listen, and let there be just listening. Whether what you’re hearing is people nearby, traffic, birds, or the sounds of nature—from your perspective there’s just sound. Don’t think, There goes a car driving by, or There are some birds, or There are some people talking. Let yourself simply experience those sounds—as if you had never heard sounds like those before—and without attaching any meaning to those sounds.
Now notice your bodily sensations—the feeling of the cushions you’re sitting on, or the clothes you’re wearing, or the temperature of the room, but again, without labeling, interpreting, evaluating, or judging. Allow yourself to just have the pure, simple experience of being where you are, right now.
Notice that when you are fully present with your experience in this way, your senses envelop your attention completely, and your mind, even if for just a moment, is quiet. The “knower”—the one that thinks, that understands, that problem solves—drops away. The filter of the separate self, at least for this moment, ceases to function.
To be fully present to your senses—without resisting, without grasping, without defensiveness or offensiveness—facilitates real presence, the purest form of our being. You are completely absorbed in the present moment.
So try it. Let seeing envelop you. Let hearing envelop you. Let any or all of your five senses envelop you fully. Let knowing drop away, and simply be here with what is, as it is.
You don’t need to be alone in your home to do this. At any moment, in almost any situation, you can take a break from thinking and come back into your body, tune in to your senses, and arrive back in this moment.
When eating, for instance, you might take a bite of fruit—a strawberry, say, or a piece of papaya or banana—and let yourself really experience the flavor, the texture, the smell. Rather than thinking papaya or banana, instead allow the immediate sensory experience of it to envelop your attention.
When walking, relax and just be aware of walking—of the sensations of your legs moving, your arms swinging, of the sights and sounds and feelings you’re experiencing. Even during very complex activity, like running or bicycling or playing a musical instrument, you can actually find this presence and stillness in the midst of that movement.
As your attention becomes more refined over time, you’ll notice there are different ways to bring attention, different flavors of awareness. You can apply a very finely focused, laser-point concentration—not by forcing yourself to concentrate, but rather by allowing your attention to settle to a very fine point, in a sense relaxing into one-pointedness. Or you can really open up the lens and allow your attention to become global, all-encompassing, so that you’re aware of nothing in particular, and yet of everything at once.
This is where I encourage you to experiment. Don’t just do it one way. Try different approaches, and notice which you prefer. Notice what you’re doing and how you are doing it, and most importantly, notice the result! Does what you’re doing leave you feeling more open or more contracted? Notice also how the simple act of examining your experience in this way can itself move you more into openness.
You might even get in the habit of trying this whenever you find yourself stretched, or stressed, or overwhelmed. Train yourself to develop a certain sensitivity to those things, such that if you find yourself in a struggle, you take that as a signal to stop, check in with yourself, and tune in to your body. Drop the mental chatter, the worry, the stress, the story, and instead arrive back here in this moment.
I try to help people learn to trust their experience, deeply. This is very different from knowing or believing something about it. To trust your experience means to surrender to it, to cease resisting. When resistance truly ceases, you’re vulnerable, you’re available, and your heart is ready to open.