One of the questions that come up for many is how do I relate to thought? Or how do I relate to stressful thoughts?

I can try to push them aside, or even learn to set them aside through certain practices, but that only gives a temporary relief. They have a habit of coming back, and with them, my tendency to get caught in them.

I am aware of two especially helpful ways of relating to (stressful) thought.

One is to shift identification out of them, even as they continue to go about their business. I can do this through the Big Mind process, headless experiments, choiceless awareness and other practices. Here, I shift into that which is witnessing thought and other content of awareness, or into that which content of awareness happens within, to and as. There is an increasing familiarity with seeing thought as thought, and not getting caught up in them as if they were anything else.

Another is to inquire into them in different ways.

I can inquire into the content of them. Is it true? What happens when I believe it? What happens if I don’t have that thought? What are the truths in its turnarounds? In this way, I become more familiar with some of the dynamics around thoughts, what happens when they are believed in and not, and what is more true for me than the initial story.

Or I can explore it through the sense fields. I can see discursive thought as a creation of the mental field. I can explore what happens when it combines with the other sense fields, creating gestalts. I can explore what happens when I take those gestalts as substantial and real, and what happens when I see them as just gestalts - created by an overlay from the mental field on the other fields.

One of the things we may notice, doing either of these practices, is thoughts as innocent.

They are awareness itself, ephemeral, insubstantial and transient.

They appear in verbal form, one at a time, and usually noticed as thinking. And they appear in wordless form - for instance as images - and are then often not noticed.

(The wordless thoughts function as source and guide for the verbal thoughts. They are stories, just as the verbal ones. For instance, there is a sound and then a mental image of a car placed where the sound seems to come from. And they can be taken as true or not, just as verbal stories.)

They are questions about the world. Stories created in the mental field to help our human self function and navigate in the world.

They appear stressful (stress inducing) only when they are taken as true, when we try to make them into something they are not.

Beliefs are shoulds that clash with our stories about how the world is, was, or may be, and this creates stress.

And beliefs differ from what is more true for us, which is also stressful. (What is more true may be the truth in each of its reversals, and the limited truth in each of those stories.)

In becoming familiar with thoughts in this way, there is a natural compassion and kindness for myself and what happens when they are taken as true. There is an appreciation of thought, for what they are and their inherent innocence. There is an easier noticing of when stories are taken as true, and the tension and sense of having to protect something (a view, position, role) that goes with it. There is a familiarity in how to relate to and work with them. And there is a deepening into a trust in the whole process.

Trigger: An email where someone mentioned a practice of setting aside thought. And also Jill Bolte Taylor’s video which could be misunderstood and taken as anti left-brain/thought.

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I have been curious lately about people who seem bitter about spiritual practice. First, I found some sites talking about Byron Katie as a cult leader (!) and then the email from someone with a bone to pick in regards to nondual traditions.

So this is a good opportunity to come up with some projections to explore for myself.

The first thing that comes to mind is that there is always some truth to whatever folks are saying, so it is good to find it.

Then, why the bitterness? Well, if we go into anything thinking that we will actually get something out of it, we set ourselves up for disappointment. This may be especially true for spiritual practices, which are not at all aimed at getting us anything, quite the opposite.

I guess this goes back to the recent post on motivations for practice: If what we need and are looking for is to feel better about ourselves, it is more than sufficient to practice with the aim of maturing and finding more of our wholeness as a human being, and find practices aimed at that. But if we are drawn by a quiet love for truth or existence itself, then spiritual practice - with the aim of waking up - may be appropriate.

Also, whatever practice we do - whether aimed at feeling better about ourselves or waking up - it is helpful to also work with beliefs and projections directly. And these include any beliefs and projections we may have about teachers, teachings or whatever we think we may get out of it.

Can I find what I see out there also in here? If I hope to get something out of it, is it true that it is not already here? What are the truths in the reversals of the stories I go to as true?

It is popular these days to talk about the ways language construct reality, slicing it up in a particular way and creating objects, relationships, characteristics of both, and more.

When I explore the sense fields, I see that language is doing this, but I also find another layer which is equally important: the wordless activities of the mental field. And these do the same.

I find images, and these are an overlay of boundaries on each of the sense fields, they serve as a source and fuel for language and discursive thought, they combine with activities in each sense field to create the appearances of gestalts, and much more.

It seems that language informs these images, including where boundaries go. But these images certainly inform language as well. There is an activity in the sense fields, an image of a singing bird overlaid on the sound field, and this can inform discursive thought about a bird singing, and also other activities of our human self such as walking over to the window to take a look.

Seeing this overlay, it is pretty clear that it is arbitrary. Boundaries can go anywhere. What happens in the sense fields can be sliced in innumerable ways. Yet since its only function is to help our human self live in the world, we tend to do it in the ways that are most functional, and this is determined in part by our particular culture and individual circumstances.

Of course, we can also go into stories about all of this. We can tell ourselves that language early on in our life helped informed where the boundaries go, including the wordless image ones. And that these images then helps support language, and serve as a guide and material for discursive thoughts. And that where the boundaries tend to habitually go, the relationships of the objects that emerge, and the characteristics of both, have infinite causes, stretching out to the extent of the universe and back to the beginning of the universe - going through the habits of this universe, the characteristics of this solar system and this living planet, the evolutionary history of this species, culture, individual experiences, and more.

All of that may be quite helpful and functional, but it is also good to see that those are just stories. Just other activities of the same mental field, constructing a partly imagined reality.

I watched The Giant Buddhas earlier today, a documentary about the Bamyan Buddhas shown as part of our local/international archaeological film festival.

It is a very well made movie, weaving together several different stories and perspectives: A Chinese monk traveling along the Silk Road around year 630. A woman from Kabul visiting the Buddhas that her father has visited in his youth. A family living in a cave between the Buddhas, and then relocated by the current regime. A French archaeologist searching for the location of a 300 meter long reclining stone Buddha in the same valley. An Al-Jazeera reporter who filmed the destruction in 2001.

Some of the information is not so well known in the west, such as the claim that Saudi Arabian engineers were called in and helped with the destruction. And that the destruction of the statues was ordered in response to western money coming in to restore artifacts, instead of as much needed aid to the people of Afghanistan. (It may be just a way to blame the west for something people in the west were upset about, but there could also be a grain of truth in it.)

When I first heard about the destruction in March of 2001, I thought of how well it illustrates the essential teaching of Buddhism - impermanence.

If we really get impermanence, if we see it and feel it, over and over, not only in stories of impermanence but as it happens here now in immediate awareness, there is no foothold for identification within content of awareness. And this invites a shift into Big Mind, into finding ourselves as that which experience happens within, to and as.

Exploring impermanence, thoroughly, over and over, as it happens in the sense fields here now, is one of the many ways to discover what we really are, and probably a sufficient one as well.

Also, it is an invitation for me - and us all - to see what stories we cling to as true, and examine them and find that is already more true for us.

It is a reminder that iconoclasm is maybe not so useful when targeted at artifacts, but has more value and meaning if we target the real icon worship: Taking stories as true. Making a thought - a story, an image - into a God for ourself.

And a reminder that we all are at different places in regards to all of this. Some of us take a modern western view on it, emphasizing the value of culture, art and tolerance. Others take a more fundamentalist view, seeing literal iconoclasm as a pretty good idea. And others again see it as a reminder of impermanence, and of iconoclasm having its value if targeted with some wisdom and applied with gentleness.

And if we want to be practical about it, we see the validity in each of those views, work on ourselves with impermanence and investigation of beliefs, and in the world in trying to prevent these things from happening using whatever - hopefully skillful - means seem appropriate.

Btw: Here is a link to the German version of the movie, although it is also available in English.

During a recent Breema workshop, one of the students asked about the hara (belly). What is it? What happens with the hara during a session? Is it connected to the chakras? The meridians?

For me, it was one of those moments that shows very clearly that no matter how many models and theories we are familiar with, and no matter how well these seem to explain what is going on, we are no closer to really understanding it.

Of course, these theories and models and maps can be very useful. They have a practical value, and we can certainly understand something more or less well in this conventional and practical sense. In a conventional sense, a map is “true” or “valid” if it works well enough, and false if not.

But even if they work, we are no closer to really understanding.

In a conventional way, we know that a map is different from the terrain. Any map highlights some features, ignore other, and may be inaccurate in what it highlights and leave out something important. Chances are, it does leave something important out, we just don’t know it yet.

Also, a map is made of thought, while the terrain is something else. They are different in kind, often dramatically different.

Thoughts are always about the past. Even if they are about the present, they lag behind. And if they do say something about the future or present, it is always drawn from memories of the past.

Models always have a shadow, a reversal that is not included. They are inevitably partial. They leave out views and perspectives that also have validity. And life, as it goes about its business, has a tendency to bring up just those things that can only be understood through those reversals views.

So in all of these ways, we see that a map is not the terrain. It can be quite useful - and “true” - in a practical way. But that is how far they go in terms of their relationship to what they supposedly are about. They work (or not) in a practical sense, and that’s it.

There is also a more immediate way to see that the map and terrain are quite different, not only in degree but in kind. Where we see that the terrain is awareness itself, taking different appearances, and the map is just an overlay.

If we explore it through the sense fields, we see that thought is an overlay on each of the sense fields. It is an interpretation, a question, about what happens in the sense fields. It has immense practical value for our human self in the world, and no value - or truth - beyond that. It is just a thought. An activity of the mental field.

Any statement, theory, model, map, is a question only. Sometimes it helps our human self to function in the world. Sometimes it is less helpful. Sometimes it can even be a pointer for us to explore what we really are, and also here be more or less effective in a practical sense.

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There are many connections between beliefs in stories and resistance to experience.

Both fuel and emerge from a sense of I with an Other.

Beliefs create an identity which doesn’t allow certain experiences. And resistance to experience in turn support and lends a sense of substance to those beliefs.

And yet another connection is distraction.

Whenever I want to resist experience, I find that a good way to do it is to go into and get caught up in stories. It doesn’t matter what type or flavor of story. Any will do. Stories of excitement, fascination, daydreams, judgment, blame, and so on.

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I watched Into the Wild some weeks ago, and as any good movie, it brought up a good deal for me to look at.

As usual with movies and life in general, it is an invitation to find in myself what I see in the characters in the movie, and especially those my attention is drawn to through sympathy, aversion or ambivalence.

And it an invitation to see what beliefs come up for me in watching the movie, and inquire into them.

My attention was mainly drawn to the idealism of the main character, and there was some ambivalence there. On the one hand, it was heartfelt and beautiful. On the other hand, it was naive, reckless and harmed himself and others.

So the question for me then is how am I idealistic in that way?

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The long form improv guideline of Yes, And is a great way of meeting people where they are.

We find the grain of truth in their perspective, which is always there, acknowledge it, and then add another perspective to it.

It is a way to meet people where they are, and then gently expand the perspective. We expand our own by taking into account the truth in theirs. And we expand theirs by adding something new.

It is also a quick way to finding common ground, simply by noting the truth in their view.

And it is a way to stay in integrity. I find the genuine truth, for me, in their perspective. And then add something on my own.

It is very simple, almost childishly so as so much else in this journal. But it has a profound impact if we really bring it into our life.

Is a story just a story?

Yes, it is, because it is only a story. It is an overlay of thought making the world appear a certain way.

There are the basic stories of an I with an Other, extent, continuity and so on, overlaid on what happens in the sense fields. These are usually only noticed if we look a little closer, for instance through exploring the sense fields.

And there are the familiar discursive stories using language and words, the ways we talk with ourselves and others.

And no, it isn’t just a story.

Each story has some truth to it. But so do each of its reversals, and all of them have value only as a practical tool guiding our human self in the world. Or, sometimes, in guiding it in noticing what is really is. In that sense, stories has a practical value.

And they do also have another, very important, function. They create a sense of drama.

When identified with, they make the world of appearances seem real and substantial. They make the stories of a separate I adventuring in the world seem - temporarily - real and true.

They create lila. The drama of an I with an Other in its struggle to survive and enhance its life, and, sometimes, in its struggle to awaken.

This follows from the previous post…

• Any sense of meaning happens within content of experience, within the world of form.
  • It is a guest, as anything else within content of experience. It lives its own life, coming and going on its own schedule.
• Any sense of meaning comes from a story.
  • The basic story is that of an I with an Other, and this gives rise to the dynamic of experiencing meaning in (a) supporting and enhancing this separate I and those within its circle of us, and (b) for this separate I to find a sense of connection with itself and the wider world.
  • More generally, whenever I believe a story, there is a sense of meaning when I work at reducing the gap between my stories of what is and what should be.
• What I really am, is always and already free from any meaning-inducing story and any sense of meaning.
  • I can explore this in several different ways, for instance through the sense fields. How does this sense of meaning, and the meaning-inducing story, appear in the sense fields? Where do I find it?
  • What I am, that which content of experience happens within, to and as, is free from meaning, yet fully allow any sense of meaning.
• Any story is a guide for our human self for functioning in the world, and - possibly - noticing what it really is.
  • It gives a sense of direction and purpose.
  • It guides action in the world, or inquiry into what we really are.
• Any meaning-inducing story is more or less appropriate to our human self and its situation.
  • First, does it actually give rise to a sense of meaning? Does it work?
  • And then, what practical consequences does it have for our human self, in the world and in its exploration to discover what it really is? Does it seem helpful?

Yet another dimension of practice is exploring on the inside and outside of stories.

Again, if we over-simplify, we can find benefits and drawbacks for each.

Working on the inside of stories tends to help who we are directly. It helps reorganize the stories it uses to navigate in the world, and also the stories it uses for exploring who and what it really is. But if this is all we do, it can also just reinforce the tendency to identify with stories, to go to stories for the ultimate answers, and to - inadvertently - confuse the map with the terrain.

Working on the outside of stories helps us see thoughts as thoughts, see what arises in each sense field here and now, and how thoughts combine with them to create gestalts, and much more. It gives us an immediate insight into what we are, and what is going on, which is outside of thought. Of course, the exploration is guided by thought, and later reflected in thought, but the exploration itself is outside of thought. (At least discursive thought, and as we get more familiar with it, outside the layers of thought that creates a sense of continuity and extent, and I with an Other.)

Together, we can find that our exploration within thought - of maps, guidelines for life and practice, finding the truth in reversals of our habitual stories and so on - helps our human self, and also in guiding our practice outside of thought. Our explorations outside of thought helps us see thoughts as thoughts, with relative truth only, each one a question more than a statement, and with value only as temporary guides for our human self. And this exploration outside of stories also helps us notice what we are, which in turn reorganizes our human self, and relieves it of the burden of taking itself as the end station of what it really is, and having an I with an Other.

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Another revisited topic:

We can explore any situation from the inside and outside of a story.

When I explore it from the inside of stories, I investigate the stories I am most familiar with, and also the genuine truth in the reversals of these stories.

This invites in a release of identification with any of these stories, I get more familiar with the truth in the reversals of stories I took for granted, and I am more free to use any of those stories as tools of practical value only.

In short, I harvest the nutrients in each story and its reversals. For my human self, it allows for a greater fluidity in playing with stories, identities and roles, and a wider terrain.

When I explore it from the outside of stories, I can notice what appears in each sense field, and see thoughts as just thoughts. I see that it is all the play of awareness, emptiness temporarily appearing as form, and as substantial and real if not recognized as awareness itself.

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One of the things that impacts me the most is the suffering of animals at the hands of humans. Like the cow I saw a picture of the other day, neglected, standing up to her belly in shit, looking back towards the photographer with big innocent eyes. Quiet, wordless, suffering. Not understanding what is happening to her. Complete innocence.

I see myself in those animals, and children and humans suffering in a similar way. I see all of us.

At times, we are all in that situation.

Vulnerable animals, without a clue about what is going on. That is what it all boils down to.

In our daily lives, we are - to a certain extent - in control and do understand. But if we look a little closer, we find that behind that thin surface is complete vulnerability and lack of knowing.

When we find this for ourselves, there is a great deal of liberation. We don’t need to hold onto stories anymore as an ultimate truth or answer. We don’t need to deny our complete vulnerability.

Instead, there can be a more receptive mind and heart. A mind receptive to the limited truth in any story. And a heart receptive to ourselves and others.

(If we have worked with our hara, our belly, we also find our hara more receptive, in this case to a felt trust in existence and life.)

As with other forms of investigation, it is a process of seeing and feeling what is more true for us. It invites in an embrace of (more of) the fullness of who we are, as human beings. And releasing struggle - in this case against seeing that we don’t know, and the vulnerability of our human self - makes it easier for us to notice what we are.

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I was reminded of this a couple of times in recent days, waking up with a sensation in the body that I didn’t have a ready story about, and then trying out different stories to see how they would fit. Is it a mood? An emotion? A body symptom?

This is a good example of how thoughts combine with sensations to create a gestalt, a new whole that seems very real and substantial in itself, until we see how it is made up of just a sensation and a thought.

In this case, I could tell myself it is a mood, and how it must have come from a dream or maybe something going on in my life. I could probably have found something in my life that fitted the mood, almost whatever the mood might be, and then go into and fuel those stories, which in turn would fuel the mood. (Nothing wrong in that, we do it all the time.)

I could tell myself it was an emotion, find something in my life that would be a likely trigger for the emotion, and go into stories about that in a similar way.

Or I could tell myself it was just a body symptom, from whatever germs are living the high life in my body this week, or maybe something I ate a little too close to bed time the night before. And if I did that, I would most likely just leave it alone, without going into many stories about it apart from many a reminder to myself of not eating too late in the evening.

I could also, as I did, notice what was going on. A set of unusual sensations in the body, a set of stories being tried out to see which one fits, and then seeing those stories as just innocent questions. Is it a mood? An emotion? A body symptom? Is there anything I need to do about it, whatever it may be? No, it seems quite innocent whatever it is.

For a few years in my life, there was what I came to call “instant karma”. I would go into judgment about someone, fueling a sense of being right and a separate I, and then, days, hours or often minutes later, I would find myself in the same position as the one I had judged, sometimes in a quite literal way. It was a great way of learning, and very humbling.

It is always true that I am what I see in others, but it is not always so easy to notice. It may happen in a quite different form and area of life. So when it happens in a more literal way, it is harder to overlook. (That more literal form can be experienced as another flavor of synchronicity.)

Over the last year or so, I have had some stories going about people making noise during sitting practice, especially since I am used to the relative quietness of the Zen zendo, and have been going to more adveita type groups who tend to be less strict in their meditation instructions. (In Zen, sitting still and not making a sound is a pretty standard guideline, and the monitor will often remind folks if they don’t follow it, sometimes by a loud shout.)

So yesterday, when I finally did a mini sesshin (Zen retreat), I found myself as the by far most noisy one. I have brewed on a germ for several days, and the main symptom is a persistent and unstoppable dry cough. I coughed and swallowed incessantly, and on top of it all had a very growly stomach at times. (The swallowing and talkative stomach from sucking on Fisherman’s Friends to alleviate the couching.)

I found myself in the exact role I had judged others for being in, and was helpless in changing it. All I could do was to find some peace with it, and allow it to work on me. To wear down old habits, soften me, to wear down and expand my identity as someone who is quiet and follows strict zendo guidelines. To feel it, take it in.

It also helped me take another look at noisy folks in the zendo. For seasoned practitioners, it either doesn’t matter or is actually a benefit. Any sound just become part of what is happening, and I also find that sharp sounds, such as a cough, helps me stay alert and awake. And if it is annoying, that too becomes part of the practice. It is just part of what is arising.

Or we can take a closer look at it. What happens when there is an experience of being annoyed? What happens if I resist the experience, try to push it away? What happens if I fully allow it, as it is? And what is annoyance? Where do I find it? Do I find it outside of a sensation and a story about that sensation? If annoyance is part of the content of experience, coming and going as any other content of experience, what it is that does not come and go? And what am I?

But for beginners, it may be different. For them, it may just be distracting.

This is another of those topics that seem so simple and childish on the surface, but goes to the core of our life and who or what we take ourselves to be. (I seem to specialize in those…!)

Any story is a tool. One that helps our human self orient and function in the world, or as a guide to awakening. And as any other tool, it has no value beyond the practical.

It is easy to see when we look at physical tools, like a hammer, or nails. We see that they have a purely practical function. They help us in daily life. And they have no value beyond that. If they didn’t help us, we wouldn’t use them or even bring attention to them.

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A belief is…

• An identification with a story.
• A story saying a story is true.
• Something that is at odds with reality, in several different ways.
• Which in turn creates stress, discomfort, even suffering.

It is an identification with a story. I quite literally take the story, and the view it offers on the world, as who I am.

It is an identification with a story saying a story can be true, and that particular stories are true. That is says something real about the world. Has inherent value. That it is something far more than just a tool of practical value to help our human self orient and navigate in the world.

It is at odds with reality, in different ways.

It is at odds with my story of what is, or may be. (a)

It is at odds with the truth in its reversals. (b)

It is at odds with noticing stories as only a tool, having no value beyond the practical of helping this human self orient and function in the world. (c)

It is at odds with what I already, somewhere, know I am. If I look here now, I find I am that which any story, and anything else, happens within, to and as. (d)

It is at odds with what is already, somewhere, more true for me. (e) I can find a+b+c+d(+e) by just looking, here now. All of this is already, somewhere, known to me. I only have to look to find it, to rediscover it.

And being at odds with reality creates a sense of something being off, of having to protect something, and so on, which creates a sense of stress, discomfort or even suffering.

In exploring anything, it is a good idea to notice how it appears from the inside and outside of stories.

Take evolution as an example. Lots of people are into evolution in different ways, including evolutionary spirituality.

Where do I find evolution? For me, I find it easily within stories.

But what about outside of stories? What about how it appears here now? What about how it appears in the sense fields? I cannot find it there at all. At most, I can find it as a thought overlaid on the other sense fields.

So this makes it clear to me, in a more real way, that evolution only appears within stories.

And this, in turn, makes it clear that evolution is a story of only practical value. There is nothing inherently valuable or true in it, but it may still have a practical function in the world, and even in the spiritual practice of some folks.

These simple explorations helps put things in perspective. It helps us become more real about it. And it helps release identification out of these stories, so they are revealed as practical tools with no value beyond that.

It takes the drama out of it. There is nothing to defend. No inherent truth in the stories that we need to defend, and no truth in the reversals that we need to defend against. We don’t need to defend the story any more than we need to defend any other practical tool, like a hammer. The only question is when and how is it useful, in a purely practical way.

With evolution, we see that it obviously fits all the data we have collected from biology, so it seems quite useful there. It has some explanation power. And it does add another dimension to how we understand our psychology, so it has practical value there too. It may even add some richness to how we see ourselves spiritually, from within the realm of stories, so it may have some practical value there too, for those drawn to it.

Again, it is simple. Almost childishly simple, as so much else here. Yet, to fully see this, to fully see, feel and love it, and bring it into daily life in a variety of situations, takes some exploration and practice.

The word ego can refer to a sense of separate I, or the psychological ego, the operating system for our human self.

When I explore ego - in the first meaning - through the six sense fields, I find that it is just a thought arising here now, taken as true.

Attention gets absorbed in the inside of the thought, there is an identification with it, it is anchored on certain sensations which lends it an appearance of substance and reality - and also a location in space, it becomes a fixed view and identity, and with the sense of the thought being right and true, its reversals become wrong and false, so there is a sense of I and an Other.

“Ego” then is as ephemeral and insubstantial as a thought, since that is all it is. But taking a thought as true has very real effects for our human self in the world, as we can explore through for instance The Work.

This is of course a simplified version of it. When we explore, we can always find new layers of complexity and richness of this - quite beautiful - process.

In terms of the layers of thoughts, I find a layer of space, mapping the five sense fields on a sense of space and extent. And I find an identification with a thought, any thought, which is then mapped on sensations appearing in particular locations in space, guided by an image thought of this body which maps sensations, and this creates a sense of a separate I, of center and periphery.

When we take a story as true, we become a tool of the story. We live out our life in its service. We are the way it comes alive in the world. The story becomes God, Master.

And when we see a story as just a story, when identification is released out of it, the story becomes a tool for us. It is a tool of practical value only, for helping our human self orient and function in the world. A tool as any other tool, of temporary value in some situations. A tool we are free to use or not, for practical reasons only.

I am reminded of all the stories in books, movies, fairy tales, mythology and even science, where someone is taken over by an entity of some sort. Possessed. Taken over by a demon, ghost, alien, virus, or anything else. These stories mirror closely what happens when we take a story as true. We are taken over by it. Possessed by it. Live our life in its service.

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Our best friends are often the ones who contradict our stories, the stories we are familiar with, used to, and sometimes attached to or identified with. It invites us to find the truth in all the reversals, harvest practical insights from each, release identification with any one, and even taste the inherent neutrality of the situation.

Instead of being identified with our familiar stories, needing to defend them as true and against the truth in their reversals, they now become tools of practical value. Instead of missing out of the truth in the reversals, I can harvest nutrients from these truths. The ones I didn’t see earlier because I was too busy attaching to, building up, maintaining and defending my familiar stories.

So when I read “I am usually not a fan of MoE” I thought it would be a great opportunity to explore how this is true for me. In what ways am I not a fan of MoE (this blog)? And in what ways is he not a fan of MoE? And others?

There is gold in each story that come out of those questions.

And as anything else here, it is more universal than just what I can get out of it. Anyone can explore this for themselves, and find their own gold.

A quick way of finding good stories to work with is to ask what am I most ashamed of? What am I most afraid to hear? What am I afraid someone will tell me? Which stories, about me or anything else, do I feel I need to defend against?

I don’t know, yet, what Tom doesn’t like about this blog. But whatever it is, chances are I have thought the same myself. And not knowing specifically what he doesn’t like gives me a good opportunity to project onto him what these stories may be, so I can see my own stories about myself.

(And these stories are not just about me. They are stories everything is filtered through. My wife. My parents. My friends. My teachers. Anyone I hear about or meet. Life itself. The universe. God. Whatever happens gets filtered through these same stories.)

Before I go into my own stories about MoE, what stories do you have about MoE? Don’t hold back if you share them with me (which would be great), I have probably thought it myself. Probably more often than you have

Feel free to post a comment with any stories about how it would be better if MoE… Or the way you complain about MoE in your own mind. Any advice that comes up. Or when you are not a fan of MoE.

You can then take these stories to inquiry, and see what is, already, more true for you than these stories. Or rather, in addition to these stories, because our familiar ones have truths as well.

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Tim Freke used the book analogy in the longer video below.

Characters in a book don’t exist as separate entities, but only in the mind of the author. And in the same way, we only exist in the mind of the author of this story, in the Divine Mind, in God. This human self does not have any separate I associated with it, but happens within the Divine Mind, as all the other characters and all the different settings and the big stage of the universe itself.

If we look, we find that what we really are is this Divine Mind, this awakeness that this human self and anything else happens within and as.

This reminds me of what came up for me when I read Sophie’s World a while back. The book is a walk-through of western philosophy, woven into a more ordinary narrative story following a young woman and her philosophy teacher.

For the first third or so of the story, they appear like ordinary and real people, to themselves and the reader.

Then odd things start happening, they encounter fairy tale characters, the weather changes to fit their conversations, a dog speaks in human language. Gradually, it dawns on them that they are characters in a story and don’t have any separate existence.

At this point, I thought the story would end with the book/Divine Mind analogy mentioned above, illustrating the view of the mystics - and opening the minds of the readers to some radical reversals of who and what we take ourselves to be - at least as just a thought experiment.

Unfortunately, or not, the actual ending of the book went in a different, more conventional/fantasy, direction. A little anticlimactic considering the promise it had about 80% into the story.

But I did get to write my own ending in my own mind, illustrating the book/Divine Mind analogy, so in that sense I got double benefit.

I am sure a book like that must have been written. If it hasn’t, it is out there waiting for the right person to make it come alive.

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Some of the integral folks like to talk about the shortcomings of “radical relativism”.

But radical relativism, if it is radical enough, is the freedom to use stories in any way that seems appropriate. It is the freedom in seeing the limited value in any story and perspective, and then use whatever one(s) seem most appropriate in any given situation.

If it is a truly radical relativism, we see stories as just tools of practical value, so choose stories with more explanation power, that are more compassionate, more effective in getting things done, more elegant, and so on, and according to what is available to us based on our current insights, experiences and skills.

And the way we hold these stories also depend on the situation. Sometimes, it may seem more appropriate to hold them lightly, freely admitting that they are just tools and that other tools may be more useful in the situation.

Other times, and especially if peoples health and well-being is at stake, and we are up against folks who are in the grips of reactivity and blind beliefs, it may be more appropriate to hold our stories far more strongly. To do what is needed to protect individuals and society, meeting people in our actions and language where they are.

When we are clear, we are anything but door mats. And radical relativism can easily take a strong stand in the world, when needed.

The problem with making “radical relativism” sound suspicious and slightly sinister, as some of the strangely “anti green” folks in the integral world do, is that it may prevent us from going far enough. It may hold people back from going far enough through relativism into the truly radical relativism.

And then we just remain stuck in beliefs. We hold onto a story because we actually think it is true.

And that is just blindness.

I took the time to read some integral blogs today, and found some of the usual comments about “radical relativism” which I am sure many would apply to The Work. It helped me differentiate something that is pretty obvious, and we all know, but it may be good to clarify it for ourselves as well.

There are two ways of relating to and working with stories.

One is inquiry, such as The Work. I find a belief, or actually any story would do, and investigate it using the four questions and the turnarounds. And in the turnarounds, I find the genuine truth for me in each of them, with at least three examples of how it is already true in my own life. These stories then are equal to me, in that I can find the truth in each of them, I see they are all stories, and I also notice the inherent neutrality of the situation behind the stories.

And all of this has one purpose: to invite in a release of identification with any of these stories. To see that each of them are tools of practical value only. To not get blindly caught up in them and the drama of right and wrong and identification with them.

The other way of relating to stories is as tools. Tools of practical value for this human self, living its life in the world. Here, of course, the stories are not equal. Although there is some truth in each one, and each one can be useful in a particular situation, some have more explanation power than others, some are more compassionate than others, some are more elegant and gets the work done more effectively than others. Which one is a better tool depends on the situation, and also on where I am and what is available to me in terms of insights, experience, skills and so on.

Together, there is a freedom from identification with stories, which helps us live our lives with more clarity, kindness and insight. And there is a freedom in which stories we use, for practical purposes.

In the first case, there is an equality of the stories. It has to be, if we are honest with ourselves, and if we are to invite identification to release out of the stories.

In the second case, there is clearly not an equality among the stories. Some are more appropriate than others in any given situation, and we choose the best we can based on what tools  are available to us currently.

As I said initially, this is pretty obvious. Anyone who has done The Work or similar inquiries knows this at some level, even if they have not clarified it for themselves in this way. Using stories as tools of practical value, whether we identify with them or not, is what we naturally do. We cannot help it.

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A slightly different take on attachments…

Attachment to anything - situations, people, things, roles - is what causes suffering. Our stories about what should be and what is clash. Which is fine. It is just part of the human condition. But after a while, and if we act from kindness towards ourselves, we may want to explore this further. What is really going on? Is there another way?

One of the first things we may notice is that any attachment is really an attachment to a story. The story of I with an Other, and then all the other stories that flesh out the identity of this separate I.

I am an object in the world, so want what supports this object and do not want what does not support it. I am alive, so don’t want to be dead. I believe in fairness, so want to see fairness in how I and others are treated.

We may also notice that an attachment to a story is really an identification with this story. We have a story of an I with an Other, and take ourselves to be this separate I. We have a story of being a particular gender, age, of a particular ethnicity, having certain values, and take ourselves to be all of that.

Another thing we may notice is that it is all completely innocent. We are all dealing with this life as best as we can, and often from lack of clarity.

And then, that behind all of it is fear. Fear for what may happen to this human self. We attach to stories to deal with this fear, and try to avoid what we are afraid may happen to it.

And that behind this fear is love. A love for this human self and whatever is within its circle of concern. All attachments to stories come from love. From wanting the best for what we take as I and us.

So how do we explore attachments, or identifications with stories?

A simple and direct way is to investigate the beliefs themselves, and find what is already more true for us. I can use a sense of discomfort as a guide to discover when my stories of what is and should be clash, and then investigate one or both of these. Is it true? What happens when I believe that thought? Who would I be without it? What is the truth in its turnarounds?

Another is to investigate impermanence in the five sense fields, to see impermanence directly here and now. This helps us reorganize and find stories more aligned with this impermanence. And it also helps us see that no story is absolutely true, which invites a release of identification with these stories.

We can also include each of the three centers: head, heart and belly.

We can find ourselves as that which is already free from identification with stories, for instance through the headless experiments, the Big Mind process, and finding ourselves as what does not change in the midst of the constantly changing content of awareness.

We can invite our heart to open through various heart centered practices, or just a focus on the heart and its qualities.

And we can invite in a deep body sense of trust and nurturing fullness through various body and hara centered practices, such as Breema.

Each of these tends to invite in an opening in the two other centers, especially if we bring attention to it. An open heart invites in an open mind and a nurturing fullness. An open mind invites in an open heart and a felt-sense of trust. A body feeling of trust and nurturing fullness invites in an open heart and mind.

We may also discover that resisting experience tends to close each of the centers. That this happens only when there is an identification with this resistance.

And that fully allowing experience, independent of what it is, tends to invite in a receptivity and opening of each center. And that this is also an allowing of the resistance, which is a release of identification with it and the content of experience in general.

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Buddhism often talk about attachments to things in the world, and how this creates suffering.

But is that really what is going on? What is it an attachment really to? And what is an attachment?

When I explore this for myself, I find that what appears as an attachment to things in the world is something a little different.

Any attachment is to a story only. And this attachment is really an identification with a story.

The core story is that of an I with and Other, which is then fleshed out with other stories.

And I am identified with these, I take myself as these stories. I am this I with an Other, I am a living being, an object in the world, has a certain gender, age, from a specific ethnic background, has certain interests, skills, values, and so on.

I believe I am this human self, so am naturally attached to its well-being and aliveness. (Nothing wrong with that, although the added drama around it may be uncomfortable.) I believe people shouldn’t lie, so am attached to people speaking the truth. I believe a certain type of food will give me comfort, and that I need comfort, so appear attached to that food. I believe an intimate relationship will give me nurturing I cannot find any other way, and that I need that nurturing, so I am attached to having intimate relationships.

Our stories about what is and what should be often do not align, so attachments to stories create a sense of drama and discomfort. This is of course fine. But eventually, there may be an impulse to take a closer look at what is going on, and explore working with attachments.

One way of working with attachments is to explore impermanence.

Exploring impermanence has two effects. It invites in a disidentification with stories. And also a realignment of the stories we use in daily life, whether we are identified with them or not, to more closely reflect impermanence. In both cases, there is a release of attachment to having things a particular way. There is less of a war with what is, as Byron Katie says. (Although she uses a direct inquiry into the beliefs themselves, not this particular approach.)

We can explore it outside of stories, through directly see impermanence in the different sense fields. By getting familiar with impermanence in this way, we see that our stories are not true so there is a disidentification with them, and the stories we use realign as well. (This one is important for the disidentification part, less so for the realignment.)

We can also explore impermanence within stories, the impermanence of the universe, earth, humanity, civilizations, individuals, relationships and so on. This helps us realign our stories, and the larger perspective can also give a certain disidentification with stories. (This one is important for the realignment part, but maybe less effective for the disidentification.)

And we can investigate stories directly. We find a should which clashes with our stories of what is, and take it to inquiry. Is it true? What happens when I believe it? Who would I be without it? Can I find the truth in its turnarounds? This invites identification to be released out of the story.

A third way of releasing identification out of stories is to notice what we already are. We can use the sense fields to explore impermanence, see how all content of awareness comes and goes. But something does not come and go. What we really are does not seem to come and go. What is it? What is it that does not come and go? Or we can use the headless experiments to find ourselves as a no-thing full of whatever happens, or the Big Mind process to find ourselves as Big Mind.

There are of course lots of ways to explore attachments. These are just the ones I happen to be most familiar with right now.

So a quick summary:

• Attachments to situations or things in the world creates drama and suffering, because everything is living its own life and is in flux. We get what we don’t want. We don’t get what we want. We don’t lose what we have but don’t want. We can’t hold onto what we want to keep.
• This attachment is really an attachment to stories about what is and should be. And this attachment to stories is really an identification with them.
• We can work with this in two ways. First, by realigning the stories we use, whether we are identified with them or not, with everything living its own life, on its own schedule, and being in flux. Then, by inviting identification to release out of these stories altogether. Realignment without disidentification only works up to a point since the world always will show up differently from our stories about it. There will be a certain amount of drama and discomfort left. Disidentification without realignment will release the drama out of it, but the stories our human self uses in its daily life will not be as closely aligned with the world as they can be. Both are important.
• And there are several tools for working with attachments in these ways. One is The Work which directly addresses the beliefs, broadens the scope of stores we have available to us through the turnarounds, and invites in a release of identification with the stories. Another is exploring impermanence through the sense fields, which invites in a release of identification with stories, and some realignment of these stories. And we can also find ourselves as that which is already free from identification with stories, through headless experiments, the Big Mind process, or finding ourselves as that which does not come and go in the midst of all content of awareness coming and going.

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Rationalization is one of those terms easily has a slightly suspicious, undesirable, even sinister tone to it. Something you certainly don’t want anything to do with yourself, and would protest to or be ashamed of being in the grips of.

But if we look closer, we see that it is (a) completely innocent, and (b) something that is an integral part of our daily life.

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A quick look at mistakes…

Something can be a mistake or not according to our stories about it, and what they tells us is important. (Happiness, wholeness, wider circles of compassion, awakening, etc.) At our human level, and filtered through certain stories, there are certainly mistakes and avoided mistakes.

There are also no mistakes in two ways.

First, whatever happens gives us feedback, it is a guide towards more fully investigate who and what we really are, so there are no mistakes in that sense. Whatever happens is an invitation to investigate beliefs, what happens when experience is resisted or not, and much more.

One way to discover this is to find, and bring into daily life, the grain truth in the reversals of our initial stories telling us that something is a mistake.

And there are also no mistakes in the sense that everything is already awakeness itself. Whatever happens already and always happens within, to and as, awakeness. Said another way, it is all Big Mind, God, Brahman, and all good as is, independent of content.

This can be explored through finding the grain of truth in all reversals of a story, revealing each permutation as having only limited truth, and the inherent neutrality of the situation beyond stories.

There is a lot to say about our relationships to stories, mainly because how stories are taken is what gives rise to our human drama in the first place, and then what flavors it takes.

Our human drama all starts with taking a story as true, which then gives rise to a sense of I and Other, which then allows it all to unfold from there.

For a while, and especially with some stories, we may not even notice it. We are caught up in stories, without being much aware of what is going on. Our attention goes to the effects, to the sense of drama and struggle itself.

When we start seeing the dynamic more clearly, maybe through a glimpse, or inquiry, or even by believing the story mentioned above, there may be a sense of being trapped. We may get caught up in another story, saying that this dynamic is undesirable. We may get caught up in resistance to it, which is just getting caught in another story.

This resistance can be invisible to us for a while. For instance, it can take the form of being bored with others when they are caught up in stories. Or more obvious, through seeing it as wrong or undesirable.

Finally, as we work through beliefs and identities, there is more peace with stories. We see them as just stories. To the extent we are clear about a particular story, attachment falls away and with it identification with resistance and aversion.

I notice this for myself in different ways.

For instance, I see how it is the same stories playing themselves out over and over, in my own life, in the lives of others, in stories told in dreams, visions, myths, fairy tales, books, movies, songs, in magazines, in the news.

And I notice the tendency to wanting to not engage, to be bored, to get slightly fed up, and how all of that too comes from just a story. A story temporarily taken as true.

When there is more clarity about what is happening, when a story is just a story arising within awakeness as anything else, there is full freedom to allow it to go, or to fully engage, or anything in between. Life unfolds. Naturally. With ease.

As long as we take ourselves to be a portion of the content of awareness, there will be a sense of precariousness. Partly because of a sense of a separate I, which is then vulnerable to the whims of the larger world. And partly because there is identification with something inherently transient.

There is a belief in a story, which creates a sense of I and Other. And this sense of a separate I is anchored on particular perceptions, such as sensations. Both of these steps are precarious. They need to be maintained, bolstered, protected, supported, actively fueled. And all of this takes a good deal of energy and attention, even if we are not consciously aware of it happening.

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