The Spirit of the Universe

The Bhagavad Gita teaches that the real self (atman, which is distinct from the temporary body) is never born and never dies. The atman is spirit (brahman) – unchanging, eternal and conscious.


And this part of the Upanishads always gives me great joy when I read it:

There is a spirit which is mind and life, light and truth and vast spaces. It contains all works and desires and all smells and tastes. It enfolds the entire universe and in silence is loving to all. This is the spirit that is in my heart, smaller than a grain of rice or a grain of mustard-seed. This is the spirit that is in my heart, greater than the earth, greater than thee sky, greater than heaven itself. This is the spirit that is in my heart; this is brahman.

The reason it is so significant for me comes from an experience in an experiment suggested to me when I first began worshipping with Quakers. I was drawn to the non-hierarchical organisation and to many of the beautiful things I had read about them.* The experiment involved a search for "that of God" within me, sitting in silence and looking at my thoughts as they came up. I had to examine each thought to see if it was mine, to see if I had originated it. For much of the time, I was aware of many thoughts and of the fact that as time passed it took longer to discover that the thoughts had originated with me. I was aware too that I was in a very deep, and very still, meditation where there were few thoughts. And then I became aware of something that overwhelmed me from within and it most definitely hadn't started with me or my thinking. The feelings I had were part fear and part bliss, most confusing. And afterwards all I could tell myself was that I had become aware of a infinitesimally small part of me that was filled with this infinitely large "knowledge" that didn't seem to have past or future but knew everything about both. There was a part of me that was a mind of infinite possibility and it was beyond my control. And the section I have quoted comes closest to describing what I found.


*One, from Paul Eddington, interviewed when he knew he would soon die from cancer, was a reply to a question about what he would like his obituary to be: he hoped people would say "He didn't do much harm."

Seeing the sights - or not

This punchy, little story comes from Walking on Water by De Mello.


Imagine you're travelling in a group through a country you've never visited before. You're on a train and all the curtains are drawn. They are all occupied in discussions - about who gets which seat, about who is the most important traveller, who is the best looking, who is most appreciated, most talented - and so on, ad infinitum. They're also discussing the fantastic places they have been before, scoring points off one another as they go and a big topic of conversation is what they are going to see in this country - the one they're passing through. And the result is they see nothing because this is how they go on for the whole of their journey.


If you can see how this applies to how you live your life today, you might understand what it means to be an awakened spirit.


As a postscript, I was tempted to change the story and make them tourists who are taking pictures all the time rather than having the authentic experience of seeing things while they are in front of them. It happened recently on a ferry in Marlborough Sound, which offers the most amazing scenery I have seen so far. And it seemed that half the people had their backs to the scenery while their picture was taken and the other half were reviewing the pictures on their camera while the most amazing scenery slipped past. And that analogy wouldn't have worked because it doesn't allow for the conversations to take place.

Filtered reality

I've quoted before the saying about perception and reality: 

We don't see things as they are; we see them as we are

Everything we see and feel is filtered - censored sometimes - by our fears, our desires, our thinking and our conditioning. Even without the filters I must remember that I am reacting not to the real world but to an image formed in my mind.  I stand much more chance of being in touch with reality when I am not saddled with baggage from the past or not worrying about what might happen in the future; I need to be awake to the present moment. Then I need to be aware of the filters, which I can develop by observing myself, watching my reactions, especially when I am excited by something or somebody.


This is especially true when I am feeling inferior or when I selfishly want something. Everything that happens - that I see or feel - seems to confirm my inferiority or my need. 


Everything that exists in the filter in my mind is transitory, although it feels permanent and real. But it can be overcome. When we become aware of how we filter reality we can take action to avoid allowing the filter to click in - we can move to a considered response to a situation, rather than an impulsive reaction. 


One example that always keeps me amused relates to a party to which I was invited. It was the husband of a friend who was celebrating and I had always experienced him as a crashing bore and hideously self-centred. Driving to his house, I was convinced I was in for a dreadful night. But I became aware of having these negative feelings and an idea came to me. At the party, I acted as if I didn't know the man and was meeting him for the first time. And I had a fresh experience of this warm, generous person - I had a great time. It's amusing because he is  hideously self-centred - everybody has agreed on that - but I could transcend that opinion and meet him with fresh eyes.


Our minds, with its filters, creates labels for others and for us. We have to see past the labels and avoid becoming attached to what our mind tells us is important. Then we meet the world fresh and alive.

Rabbit, rabbit

Recent conversations I have been involved with about whether things really are "as they should be" has reminded me of a story that I love,  from Awareness by de Mello. It's in a chapter appropriately titled "All's right with the world."

The story concerns a young boy who was walking along side a river when he saw a crocodile trapped in a net. The croc begged him to be freed. The boy protested: "I'm no fool. If I let you out of the net you'll grab me and eat me." 

After much begging and persuasion, the boy finally agrees to take the net off having received a promise that the crocodile won't eat him. But as soon as it can move, the croc grabbed one of the boy's legs in his mouth. The boy started to protest. He begged the crocodile not to eat him, that it wasn't fair and he had done the crocodile a big favour and saved its life. 

The croc said "Don't take it personally. But this is the way the world is. This is the law of life." 

The boy pleaded to a donkey who was watching to reason with the crocodile and spare him. The donkey calmly replied that the crocodile was right, adding "I have been loaded with goods to carry until my back was too weak to carry any more and then thrown out to starve or be eaten because I was no further use to the owner. "This is the way things happen. This is the law of life." 

The boy pleaded to a bird in a tree but she too agreed that the crocodile was right, that his was the way of the world. She told the boy "This morning a snake crept into my nest and ate all my fledglings, one by one, as I watched helpless.. This is the law of life." 

Desperate now, the boy called to a rabbit that was passing and asked his opinion. When he heard what the crocodile had said he suggested that this was an important point they needed to discuss it fully. So, in order to do this we need to all sit and think it through. "So, crocodile," he said "first you'll need to let the boy go so he can take part in our conversation. 

The crocodile protested now "If I do that he'll run away." The rabbit pointed out that the boy wouldn't be able to do that as one slash of the tail would put paid to any escape. And after more protests, the croc finally agreed and loosened his grip on the boy.

The rabbit cried "Quick. Run" and the boy did and escaped narrowly from the croc's tail. But the rabbit called after him. "Wait. Look, you didn't release him fully from the net. Now the people in your village can feast on crocodile meat tonight." And he turned to the crocodile and said, with a smile, "After all, you were right. This  is the way things happen. This is the law of life." 

So the boy went back and brought the villagers back to the river where they slaughtered the crocodile and carved him up and shared out the meat. 

The boy's dog came too and when she saw the rabbit, chased him and snapped his head off. The boy turned, too late to do anything, and as he watched the rabbit dying he said "The crocodile was right. This is the way things happen. This is the law of life."

So perhaps, the problem isn't in reality, in what happens. Maybe the problem is in me.

Negative feelings

One of the aims of self-observation - and a key to having an awakened spirit - is to be free of what is sometimes referred to as the "conditioned" self - what we think of as the self we  usually accept as it appears to us.  If our "self" is the unifying part of our stream of consciousness, what we want is for it to be able to see clearly what we are, to see things objectively - with detachment. What we think of as self has become conditioned by outer influences and inner censorship and is no longer our natural or instinctive self.


Strong feelings are a symptom of our conditioned self - particularly negative ones such as anger, resentment or hatred.


It's very difficult to move our position from subjectivity to objectivity. How can we question our convictions? It's impossible while we remain prejudiced (sure we know what's right) and mechanical (sleepwalking through our lives). Einstein is reported as saying that it is easier to split an atom than a prejudice.


Let's look at our negative feelings towards others and start to learn how to see things differently with a proposition that's hard to take.


Is it possible that our negative feelings toward other people are an illusion? If that's true then we're the ones at fault. Because we're not seeing things as they are. And this taps into a universal truth - we do not see things as they are; we see things as we are. So next time you start criticising somebody or something you might pause to reflect that this criticism can say more about you than it will about what you're criticising.

It's a fact that my life has been filled with some dreadful problems - some of which actually happened.


Hard as it is to accept, there is nothing wrong with the world. So, the world doesn't need to change. I need to change. The idea that the problems in my life are not caused by me but by other people came as a relief. I cannot change others (Boy, have I tried!) but I might be able to change me. And the change I need is a move from my conditioned self (from a prejudiced view of the world and its effect on me) to my real self, detached from prejudice and living free at this particular point in time and space.


So, today, when I am feeling unhappy - particularly when I can see that I am restless, irritable or discontented -  I just ask myself "Now, what have I done?" Often I've expected too much, become too attached to something or (all too often, I'm afraid) thought that I know best. I attend to my feelings and perceptions and discover that I am so often the cause of any of my own unhappiness.


It's worth a postscript about righteous anger. What do we do when we see something that is clearly wrong - cruelty to a child perhaps? We act, of course, where we can. But never from a position of righteousness (the cause of most of the world's ills) and preferably without anger, because we seldom see clearly when we are angry.


Image copied from  http://get-successful.com/self-concept/

What is I?

So many of the masters in spiritual teaching point to this as the most important question: What is this thing called "I"?


We may have great factual knowledge but not know who it is that knows. We may have great insight and understanding but not know who it is that understands.


It's highly likely that much of what we think of as "me" is stuff we've inherited or adopted from other people - attitudes, opinions and behaviours from our parents, other influencers and role models. I am constantly surprised when one of my (sometimes strongly held) opinions and beliefs aren't really mine at all. They're ideas I picked up along the way. Yet it is so easy to identify with them and believe that they are "me."


The "I" is reached through self-observation. When we look at ourselves we begin to see what masquerades as the self but isn't the self  - and in this way we move closer to knowledge of the "I." We get to see the one who is doing the watching.


It was only when I started to observe myself that I began to see the truth - that much of what I considered to be me or to belong to me was something I had added to myself. It wasn't really me. I also learned that I subtracted from myself too, especially when I tried to


My idea of me is constantly filtered - mostly by my fears and my desires, but also by my beliefs and my cultural conditioning. In some ways I don't have real sensations but rather react to images formed in my mind. 


With an awakened spirit I can ignore the filters and have a real experience, engaging with the world in the here and now. This is when and where we make contact with our true self, openly and honestly. It is sometimes referred to as the Buddha-nature -  the true self that manifests itself when we lose the ordinary self, or see through the things that we have attached to ourselves, or come to believe are really us. In Buddhism when we can penetrate to the true self we gain enlightenment.

Are you sure?

I have been accused of being too certain about things; this happened after a meeting in which I was particularly vocal about a couple of issues.


The problem is, I think, that I appear to be too certain, when in fact the opposite is true. I notice that I write with few conditional constructs (maybe, perhaps, might) and I talk in the same way.


But I am so uncertain about things now, I appreciate how ironic it is. The more I find out the less I know. In one sense, this is a result of trying to understand the spiritual world, which becomes more opaque when reason or logic is applied to it. But the major factor is the principle that if we want to give up "self" the crucial first step is to give up certainty.


Being certain is a sure sign of clinging to ideas and beliefs rather than being open to new possibilities. A story I heard in AA (surely apocryphal) illustrates this well . It concerns a sponsor being pestered by somebody he is trying to help for the "secret" of recovery - it would apply equally well to any teacher/student situation. The sponsor has made it clear that there is a clear path of action to recovery but the other is convinced there is a short cut or secret. He asks whether the recovery programme can be distilled to one simple thing. The sponsor thinks for a while and then responds "If you insists then yes, there is one simple principle: Let the other person be right." After a long pause while this is digest he then says to his sponsor "Surely, it can't be that simple." To which the sponsor immediately replies "Yes, you're probably right."


De Mello illuminates the point with a story in Walking on Water:

Two monks had lived together for 40 years and never argued - not once. One day, one said to the other, "Don't you think it's time we had an argument, at least once?"
The other replied "Fine. Let's do it now. What shall we argue about?"
"How about this piece of bread?" said the first monk.
"OK. Let's argue about the bread. How do we start?"
The first said "This bread is mine; it belongs to me."
The second said "If it is, then take it."

There are two key points here. The first, which is made by both stories is that we don't need to be right about things. Often it seems that there is a choice between being right and being happy: by trying to be right we risk making ourselves unhappy. The second, which is part of the second story is about how attachment to things leads us to being certain or right. If I believe that something is "mine" then I can be deeply affected by you trying to take it. The more we attach to things, the harder our hearts become, leading sometimes to self-obsessed fear where we are always afraid that we won't get something we want or live in fear of things we value being taken from us.

Forgiveness

The clip says everything that needs saying

 Link to Brahma Kumaris clip

I. Self. Me.

How would you describe yourself in a few short phrases? Try it now.

Did you come up with labels? Did you describe yourself as fitting into a group - your sex, race, job, religion? That's what we mostly do - we describe ourselves with labels that others will recognise. And in doing this we demean ourselves; we become reduced almost to a commodity and lose sight of the fact that in "here" is an amazing person.

Maybe you've written something descriptive about yourself: your likes/dislikes, your behaviour or what motivates you. In which case you have been observing yourself -  and if you have included character defects or flaws in your description, there's real hop that you have been observing yourself honestly.

In observing ourselves, we have "I" watching "me" (which idea alone is worth pages). Humans do this and seemingly is the only animal to do this. Which might be the problem with our living life on life's terms. Because, most of the time we watch ourselves in a worried, censorious way. We worry what we might look like, what others might think of us. And in doing this we become attached to our thoughts and we start to identify with them. And we start to get dishonest and form a mental image more like the ideal us rather than the real thing.

Mystical teachings point towards watching. We start with things - like the breath or a mantra. Then we can move on to watch our thoughts. And then to move on to watch the thinker.

Knowing the "I" is a bit like knowing God, in that I can give you reams of description of what is "not God." In the Cloud of Unknowing we are told:

Do not suppose that because I have spoken of darkness and of a cloud I have in mind the clouds you see in an overcast sky or the darkness of your house when your candle fails…. When I speak of darkness, I mean the absence of knowledge. If you are unable to understand something or if you have forgotten it, are you not in the dark as regards this thing? You cannot see it with your mind's eye. Well, in the same way, I have not said "cloud," but cloud of unknowing. For it is a darkness of unknowing that lies between you and your God.

 So, I believe that in a similar way there is a cloud of unknowing that lies between "I", the observer, and "me", the observed. There is an obvious list of what the "I" isn't. It's not my body, not my thoughts, not my feelings. Most of all, it isn't any external part of me. These are all changeable and so cannot be part of the "I."

The "I" transcends suffering and gives the truth to that phrase that seems glib and improbable at first sight: Pain is unavoidable. Misery is optional. I learned the truth of this saying from a man I met regularly who told me he was off to the Himalayas for a three month retreat with Tibetan Buddhists. From what I described it was clear that this would involve at least two days' walking (Almost climbing); I commented on his fitness as he had a pronounced limp which I knew was the result of severe arthritis. He laughed and replied "Oh, that's no problem. The pain is only in my knee." He didn't need to finish: "not in my head.." Pain is bearable - we can live with it - while we don't let it become a source of worry. My own experience with gout bear this out. And it leads to the conclusion that all my suffering is caused by my identifying with my "self," with something I imagine to be inside me or identify outside myself.

After a term of studying Psychosynthesis, I was asked to write a "target" for myself to encompass my learning on the course. I wrote Today, I will be me, no more, no less. This gave me a great focus for discovering what this "I" actually was, so that I could attempt to be this me

So in observing ourselves, we don't identify with what we find. The "I" leaves whatever we find in the "me" alone and just observes.

I am the walrus

John Lennon wrote many amazing lyrics. None impressed me more than this verse from I am the Walrus:

I am he 

As you are he 

As you are me 

As we are all together

Drug induced nonsense? I think not. It sounds more like a man who has had a glimpse of reality, who has seen what the Buddha taught - that "I" am not an integral autonomous entity; that the individual self is better thought of as a by-product of our consciousness and perceptions. He also scores highly in my book for his other significant lyric:

All you need is love

 Which is a proposition that, once grasped, makes the world a very different place to be in.

Get off your ass

A good piece advice for those climbing high mountains is to get off your ass or mule when you reach the top; you have no further use for it unless and until you want to go down again. I wonder why followers of religions don't apply the same principle. When we find our God - or whatever Spirit or Power we are looking for - we can put aside what brought us into a relationship with our God. Do we have any more need for the religion that got us there?


Apparently, the answer is yes. Because I have encountered very few people with deep religious conviction who don't try to persuade me that theirs is the one true way. Now I find it hard to conceive of a God of any kind who is going to make entering into a relationship with Him/Her/It so difficult that there is just one way. Particularly as some of these exclusive routes lead to the same  place. Some of the most vitriolic and violent confrontations of my generation have been between Catholic and Protestant groups - the depth of hatred that still lingers is staggering, when you consider they both claim Jesus as their Lord and Saviour. And the confrontations between Jew and Moslem is harder to understand when you remember they both worship the same God but with different names (and yes, the underlying cause isn't the religious differences themselves).


And I am discomforted by the arrogance of those who would attempt to convert me to their way of doing things (ie believe and worship) when I have a perfectly serviceable belief of my own.


As an aside, I am equally discomforted by those who maintain a tight grasp over entry into their group. I gave a talk to a group from a local  Anglican during which I mentioned that I had rejected the Christian God I had been brought up to fear; but that then I had grown back into faith and now called myself a Christian. Among the questions I took afterwards not one was related to the substance of my talk. These people wanted to talk about my calling myself a Christian. One woman in particular persisted with a series of questions about my faith until she finally asked whether I believed Jesus was our risen Lord and Saviour. When I answered no, she almost punched the air and said "There you are. I knew you couldn't be a proper Christian." For me Christian means a follower of Jesus's teachings; for her something else entirely.


This clinging to religion can also lead to a remarkable circular argument about oneself. At one time I led a diversity group in one London YMCA which got me involved in presenting findings of an association-wide survey at a National conference. The gist of the findings was that most YMCAs were blinkered when it came to diversity in recruitment - most new staff in middle and senior positions were recruited from people who had worked at other YMCAs in the past. The people "like us" in management positions tended to recruit "people like us." This caused a furore among senior managers who refused to accept that the findings could possibly be true; the kicker is in the argument most often used: WE cannot possibly as badly as that because we're Christians!


I feel that at the bottom of all this is my position which argues against certainty. I am happy and contented with my spiritual path and tend to find a home with those who aren't quite as committed to this religious certainty. I find the relaxed and non-directional ways of liberal Quakers to suit me best - although the irony of their name,  "Friends of the Truth," is not lost on me.


As a postscript, I discovered when looking for a source that "get off your donkey" is widely used by Christian churches today. This is a call to action rather than a call to be more relaxed about who really is God's favourite.

Pay attention to yourself

There is a story told about the Desert Fathers (courtesy of The Spirituality of Imperfection) when called in to give judgement on a hermit who had smuggled a woman into his cell as a mistress. Others had complained and the Abba (Father) came with other monks to search the hermit's cell. Hearing of this the hermit hid the woman in a large barrel. The Abba realised the woman was in the barrel so went and sat on it, instructing the other monks to search the cell thoroughly. When the monks who had accused the hermit of immorality found nothing they left, very apologetic. On his way out the Abba took the hermit aside and whispered to him "Brother, pay attention to yourself."


This is not a comment on the hermit's actions but rather concern about his attitude of carelessness, of not facing up to what he was doing, of not being truthful with himself. What we do is important but what we are is fundamental.


We need to be challenged to wake us from our sleepwalking through life. This can come from other people - being of real help by challenging our ideas about ourselves. If we are in a frame of mind that allows us to be challenged and to learn about ourselves, then we can benefit from watching ourselves. This isn't to say we have to study ourselves - that can lead to self-absorption, which leads back to a sleepwalking state - but rather that we watch. And we watch everything in ourselves - our actions, our thoughts and our feelings.


If we can, we watch with a detachment, as if we are watching some other person. So it doesn't become personalised and we don't identify with what may be going on. 


As far as I know, there is no technique involved or specific method, no clever trick. If you find yourself using a technique stop - it will lead back to the sleepwalking you're trying to escape from. We watch and we don't try to fix what we see.


The danger in self-observation is becoming identified with what we find. We need to detach from feelings. Here's an exercise found in Psychosynthesis:


In a quiet relaxed state, say to yourself:

I have a body, but I am more than my body. I am the one who is aware: the self, the center. My body may be rested or tired, active or inactive, but I remain the same, the observer at the center of all my experience. I am aware of my body, but I am more than my body.
I have emotions, but I am more than my emotions. Whether I feel excited or dull, I recognize that I am not changing. I have emotions, but I am more than my emotions.
I have a mind, but I am more than my mind. Regardless of my thoughts and regardless of how my beliefs have changed over the years, I remain the one who is aware, the one who chooses, the one who directs my thinking process. I have a mind, but I am more than that.

An exercise such as this can stop us becoming too identified with negative feelings and emotions. So rather than saying "I am depressed" we can say "I am experiencing depression right now." Equally, we cannot say "I am ecstatically happy" either.


It is crucial that we don't evaluate what we find. What happens is that we begin to understand ourselves and we start to change. But if we make the mistake of judging, we apply labels and they hide the truth. We have no aim, other than to watch.

"The unaware life is not worth living" Socrates

Hell is other people

Or is it? 


I read this quote the "wrong" way for a considerable time. Sartre explained about the quote from his play: "It has been thought that what I meant by that was that our relations with other people are always poisoned, that they are invariably hellish relations. But what I really mean is something totally different. I mean that if relations with someone else are twisted, vitiated, then that other person can only be hell."


Something was said to me about my drinking problem when I sought to justify it. I claimed I drank because my life was so shitty; it was pointed out to me that it was more likely that my life was shitty because I drank.


With this perspective, we have something to learn from. Because if other people are my problem, then I will always have a problem, simply because I have no power over other people. But if I am the problem, then there is a chance I can do something about it because I am not completely powerless over myself - although I had to concede I needed a great deal of help.


The "problem" that other people present can be readily understood by accepting our own faults. If we go round trying to get what we want to make ourselves happy,sooner or later we  become a "problem" for others who get in our way. Maybe, the reality is that other people are just doing the same as us - trying to make themselves happy. (The Dalai Lama has no resentment over China invading his country and forcing him into exile; he said that they were just trying to find happiness their way.) And - inevitably - they will stand on our toes and become the source of unhappiness for us.


There is a take on this I like from the Brahma Kumaris which likens our lives to a play where we are each acting out a script written by God. So when you do something to annoy me I should just accept that this is your role in my life; so there is no point in being angry.


Each time we are tempted to complain about other people and their behaviour, we can ask ourselves why we expected anything better. Because we are dealing with selfish people - just as we are selfish - so we should have expected the worst. (Expect the worst and you'll never know disappointment is a quote from Peter Wastholm - so famous he doesn't have a Wikipedia entry.) When we expect the worst, we are never let down, we never feel rejection.


To be happy and free of other people, we have to drop false ideas of them and to lower our expectations of them. That is not possible until we drop our false ideas of ourselves and become more realistic about what we are - to see through ourselves, if you like. 


Other people can also give me "problems" with their opinions of me. I despair sometimes at the amount of time I have wasted trying to get other people to like me or think well of me. It is not what they do that is the problem, it's what can I do with what they have done. I can use other people to foster the belief system that tells me that I'm OK and that I'm getting along fine. I can also use their opinions to bully myself for being a failure and to be miserable because I am failing.


Better that I don't become dependent on other's opinion of me and that I don't build my self-esteem on their views and opinions. This isn't to say that people don't matter to me but rather that what they may think of me shouldn't matter. If I want reality rather than illusion, my view of myself needs to come from me, from within.


As a footnote, I have always bridled against the idea expressed as I'm OK: You're OK I have found self-affirmation to be a waste of time as it isn't my ego that needs bolstering, it's my spirit. And I have no useful opinion on you. The temptation is strong to write a book with the title I'm a shit: You're a shit which experience suggests is not only closer to the truth but is also much more useful to both of us. 

Blessed be!

Amusingly, I was going to write about other people and the fact they are most use when they challenge our ideas. Then along came a person last evening who shared something in a group last night which confirmed some of my ideas. Having our ideas confirmed is always dangerous. Of course, our ego loves having our ideas confirmed - what a boost to our self-esteem. But this confirmation is little use in any real sense. If our ideas are wrong, we stay trapped in not seeing the truth; even when our ideas are right, we run the risk of being a servant to pride. Worse still, when our spiritual ideas are confirmed we run the risk of being spiritually proud, probably the most difficult place of being I have experienced, where my sense of obvious well-ness gave the lie to the spiritual sickness that still had me in my grasp.


For that reason, I commend the advice Buddha gave his disciples. He told them never to accept what he told them as the truth but to test it for themselves. Then when you confirm my ideas I am best advised to test what you are saying rather than let my pride run off with the idea that I must be right.


So, I am in a position where I need to test the ideas that were presented yesterday evening. Yet they have such merit I thought to pass them on untested. The talk was based on the book, The Gentle Art of Blessing, where the central idea is that we can gain spiritual strength and well being and rid ourselves of the curse of resentment by blessing those who have wronged us. The writer, Pierre Pradervand, started practising blessing when trying to overcome the hurt that dogged him from having to quit his job. And it worked, so much so, that it has become a spiritual practice for him, to the extent that he blesses all the passengers on any bus he travels on and all those he passes. 


His blessing is defined this way: 


To bless means to wish, unconditional, total, unrestricted good for others and events from the deepest wellspring in the innermost chamber of your heart.


I was struck by this, because of its similarity to a technique of prayer that I was taught and have successfully used for  quite some time. The practice involves saying a prayer for anyone you have a resentment about or who annoys you - for them to receive their heart's desire and be happy and fulfilled. It is recommended that the prayer is said for 30 days. Of course, it's impossible to be angry or resentful at somebody when you've prayed for their happiness continually for a month. 


I like though the additional dimension of asking for blessings on people; and how much more personal it can be to bless people as I pass them, rather than consigning them to one prayer at the start or end of the day. How much better it is to have prayer as a constant thread in our waking day.

Practising mindfulness

As Charles Tart writes: the problem with being mindful is remembering to be mindful and the problem with remembering is remembering to remember. Our experience has led us to a set of beliefs about ourselves and the way we live our lives that have turned us into automatons who do not possess the means to bring themselves out of their sleepwalking state.


There are some ways of jolting ourselves back into the present - an external stimulus or reminder, like a bell or an alarm, is a good example. At home, it is possible to create a CD of bells going off at random intervals. The idea could also work with a group of people who would text other members of the group when they were reminded to be in the present creating a network of potentially random wake-up texts of  I'm awake. Are you? 


Another technique is to build something into your day that forces you to come back into the present.  This needs to be intrusive rather than simply mechanical and regular in your day and to involve both the mind and the body. The idea that worked for me was doorways. Each time I walked through a doorway I noticed whether the hinges were on the left or right and then went through leading with the same leg. At the same time I brought myself back to the present and asked myself how I was feeling (which made it impossible to go back and describe any day as a bad one: some bad things had happened but I hardly ever found myself feeling bad when I walked through a doorway). Jumping through doors with no hinges was fun but these tended mainly to be in public places so I nominated a leg to lead with. Another idea I used was reciting the registration plates of white (say) vehicles.


This technique has its problems: first, we have to remember to do it; second, it becomes habitual and stops having the needed effect.


Morning exercise: There is a morning exercise that comes from Gurdjieff's teaching via Tart. It takes 10 to 15 minutes when  first learned. Its purpose is to teach mindfulness and it can be used any time during the day to bring us back into our body and into the present.


Best done first thing in the morning, start by sitting (or you can lie down) comfortably. Close your eyes and relax (but note until you have learned the exercise it is perfectly OK to read as you go along though, as you'll see, closed eyes are important).


Focus your attention on your right foot. Really concentrate on this foot at this moment and focus on whatever is there - be open to whatever is happening in your right foot. Just experience, do not judge; if it feels numb or cold, it is not good or bad, it just is.


When you have made good contact move to the lower half of the right leg and repeat the focusing.


Next, after a few seconds or however long it takes, open your mind to what is happening for your knee and the upper half of your right leg.


Then move your focus to your right hand; then to your right forearm; and on to your right upper arm.


Now move across to sense your left upper arm; then down to your left forearm; and on to your left hand.


Next the upper left leg; then the lower left leg and on to move your attention to the left foot.


In the second stage we widen our attention. We start with both feet and when we have experiences that we add in both lower legs and then include both upper legs until we are experiencing all of both our legs.


When we have these in focus we add in the upper arm, then the lower arm and finally the hands - each one step at a time.


Now you will be experiencing all of your limbs at once. And you move on to actively listen to whatever sounds are there, without judging. Hearing is more dominant so while you're making this real effort to listen keep in your mind the feelings in your limbs. This stage can be a valuable meditation in itself but for the purpose of the exercise you should aim to hold this for around 30 seconds.


Finally, slowly open your eyes, while still listening and feeling your limbs. Sight is so dominant, it's likely you'll not manage equal experience of everything but maybe 60% seeing, 30% hearing and 10% physical sensations. When seeing, you should actively look, no blank staring; let something hold your attention for a few seconds and then move on.


This state of being - with full awareness of what we're seeing, what we're hearing and the sensations in our limbs - is what we aim for in bringing ourselves back to the present. So if you are using a technique to remind you to be mindful, then it is just a question of closing your eyes briefly to sense your limbs, listen and then open your eyes to see, aiming for the full range of awareness. With practice, this quickly comes.


One of the pleasant outcomes of this exercise is how readily it displaces worry and anxiety - they seem to have no way to get through. The exercise also taught me the pleasure of just being alive.


In love and light, M

Are you dancing

Prem Rawat, or Maharaji,  has a useful call to be mindful and to be present. He says:

This life is a beautiful dance
But if you haven't danced it
It's academic

Are you one of those who isn't dancing? Is this making your life academic?


We are surrounded with so much beauty, happiness and love. Yet many people - maybe most - don't get to see it. They're looking at a world characterised by ugliness, misery and hatred. How do they get to miss what else is going on? In Awareness, Anthony de Mello puts this down to being hypnotised, or brainwashed. - rather like a stage hypnotist getting us to see what's not there.


There is no doubt that there is suffering in life. It's the first of the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism. And it's a paradoxical truth: the moment we fully concede that life IS suffering, we cease to suffer.


So, my problem in engaging fully with my life - as it happens - was that I identified too much with what I had learned, by using my old, faulty, experience I held myself back from having a new experience. I stayed stuck in the sleepwalking phase. Why? Because I would rather keep all the things I thought were important to me, all the things I was convinced I needed. It seemed as if I thought survival was impossible without my cherished ideas about myself and my life. But they locked me out of any experience of this real and present moment.


A friend in Tennessee, Bob, when asked how he is replies:" I'm above ground, I'm not thirsty and I'm capable of taking in solid foods unaided." Now here's a man in touch with the present and who accepts the notion that it's just possible we have everything we need.


The belief that I have everything I need keeps me from the idea that something might be missing from my life, from wanting something I haven't got. I once read (I think from Fr Paul D'Souza but cannot verify) that it is impossible to predict anybody's future except the person that believes he will find happiness in gaining something he hasn't got; that person's life will always be the same - a constant search for something to make him happy.


Is it possible that you have the wrong ideas about life and living it that are influencing you so much and keeping you asleep? A useful symptom is looking at how difficult it is to listen to somebody who challenges our ideas about ourselves - does this hurt your pride, rather prick your vanity?


The hardest thing I found was listening to new ideas - to see. Because I might be changed.

Stages in Hindu Prayer

In looking for a reference for a quote I wanted to use, I meandered through some pages on the internet until I came to a page of articles by the Barefoot Carmelites. I was struck by (another) link to mystical traditions through St Theresa and St John but most by the link back to the Desert Fathers 


This is the page. And this is what called out to me:

There are four stages in the universal Hindu system of prayer.

1. Sravana: This is listening to the word. We must read or hear the word of God from the Scriptures. The word enters the soul through hearing. Mere reading without any grasp of the word will not in any way benefit the reader. It should be listened through the heart.
2. Manana: The message is to be seized, reflected upon, repeated in the mind and in the heart until it totally becomes the part of prayer. Reflection alone cannot lead us to experience the word in prayer. Assimilation of the word is the final goal of manana.
3. Nidhidhyasana: Assimilation naturally leads the word to interiorisation. It is the strict application of the message to life. Hence prayer affects life through the mediation of the word of God.
4. Samadhi: Deep peace, serenity and communion with the Divine. It is the experience of the contemplative gift of God granted to the soul. No one can obtain it by force. It is experienced through sheer gift of God himself.

Every act of prayer in Hinduism should end with self-surrender and adoration. The climax of prayer is love and union with God, i.e., a pure identification with God through total self-surrender.


This is another reference to the heart, not as an organ of the body but more as the part of us that loves (my take on the teachings of Shaykh al-Tariqat Hazrat Azad Rasool)

Begin where you are

I listened once to a man talking about his life. There were two stand-out parts to his story. The first was the fact that he underwent a complete psychic change on the cliffs above Beachy Head; he had driven there from north of London to kill himself. The second was the nature of the lesson he had learned while parked there. He learned that in order to do anything, to actually achieve anything, we have to do it now and in order to start any journey we have to start here and now.


This had a profound impact on me and - keeping in mind I tend to dramatise this part of my journey - saved me from following him all the way to the place where suicide seemed a better option than living my life as it was. From the time I heard what he said, I knew at a deep inner level that my life could be measured by my actions. 
But in order to do anything I had to start here and now. I was later to add to this the idea that I should use what I have to get things done. No longer would I be able to reassure myself that planning and deciding on action were the same as taking action


And that thought led to my life no longer being a function of what happens to me but rather a function of what I do when things happen to me. And this can only take place in the here and now; I have to be present in order to live my life.


Later, my spiritual mentor, Mike, gave me a card to keep. It was headed The Secret.


     THE SECRET

1. Begin where you are
2. Do what you can, gracefully
3. Step out in faith
4. Expect God to help.