credit: bookminx

I have a good friend with whom I often disagree on spiritual issues. I think on some level we enjoy our disagreement, even though on another level we often react to each other as if to say, “Are you nuts?” Recently we exchanged a few emails, and I sent him a message today that I’m quite certain he won’t like. Afterwards, I thought, “Hey, if my friend won’t like it, I’m sure it will irritate others, too.” Of course, that means I need to publish it here.

Truth is a not a state of being or consciousness or anything. The truth is what is. When you awaken, you simply drop into being able to know that which is, without any interference from your mind. No state. Just pure awareness. Awareness aware of itself. Because what it perceives is that everything it perceives is itself. Total unity.

Some of the quantum physics people who have gotten all new-agey like to speak of the fundamental field of reality, or the ground or field out of which all things arise. This field is the Buddhist “nothingness”. Same thing with spirit, consciousness, awareness, etc. All are empty in the sense of no-thing-ness, ie, they aren’t objects to be perceived.

And so, when awakening occurs, when enlightenment happens, one becomes fully aware of the truth, i.e., that all is merely an appearance of this fundamental ground of being, all is this complete totality, all one essence, all one intelligence, all one awareness, conscious, awake, alive, aware.

No states of anything. Just pure beingness. In essence, that’s really all there is to enlightenment.

Namaste.

Secondly, Michael Jeffreys has been kind enough (crazy enough?) to quote me on his page of spiritual quotes. Thanks, Michael, I’m honored.

And, as always, I’m grateful to you, my readers, for making this site a lively and fun place to explore the truth together. Namaste.

credit: Awaya-Legends

To continue my recent theme about control, let’s take a look at the real heart of the issue. In previous posts, I discussed how the idea of being in control is pretty much illusory and how you can’t even control what your next thought is going to be. In this little essay, I want to look at the controller, the you that has no control over anything.

From the beginning, the idea of control over one’s life, one’s thoughts, one’s actions, anything and everything, presupposes that there is a someone who is in control. That stands to reason, doesn’t it? If there is control, there must be a controller.

So, find him or her. Right now, see if you can find the controller, the one who has control over this thing called “your life.” Is it your body? Does it have control over your life? Is it your mind? Does it have control over your life? Do its wishes, desires, thoughts and even intentions have control? Given that thoughts have a crazy way of “just arising spontaneously” then the mind being in control seems iffy.

Look inside and see if you can find this controller. Is it the thinker of your thoughts? Where is this thinker? Can you find him or her? Is it the soul? While some of my readers are very convinced of the reality of the soul, I would ask you to do a very simple thing: look inside and find it. I mean, if the soul is you, then shouldn’t you be able to find it? It seems reasonable. And yet, when you look inside, what do you find?

If you are like me (and basically everyone else who does this very simple exercise), you come to the most interesting realization: there is nothing there. You look inside and you find nothing. In this context, you look inside for the controller, for the ultimate you that does things, decides things, chooses things, and you do not find anything. You find a whole lot of nothing.

I will leave you with a few questions: is this a bad thing, finding nothing? What if this nothing that you find is what you are? What if everyone is the same nothing? How much control, then, do you have over your life? Every time you look inside, you can’t find the you that you always thought you were, and instead find nothing. Isn’t that interesting?

In my next post, for those of you who are convinced as to the reality of the soul, I’ll take a look at it and discuss why it, too, is not what you are (even if we assume for a moment that it does exist). Namaste.

Before enlightenment go to work, pay mortgage; after enlightenment go to work, pay mortgage. (An old Zen saying i just made up.)

I love it! A great re-working of a classic Zen saying. I got to thinking how to apply it specifically to my life right now, with regard to my daily activities. Here is one I thought of just now:

Before enlightenment, fix breakfast, take kid to school; after enlightenment, fix breakfast, take kid to school.

So, what I would like for you all to do is make up your own versions, using things from your life, and leave them in the comments. It would be fun to see how we can apply a wonderful Zen saying to each of our lives.

Looking forward to what you create. Namaste.

credit: Derick Leony

A few days ago, I wrote about not having control over your life. So far, I would say the comments are running an even split: some agree, some think I’m off my rocker. So let’s dive into this subject a little further. Let’s talk about your thoughts.

IF you have any control over your life, then you almost surely would agree that your thoughts, your mind, your thinking plays a tremendous role in that control. Makes sense, right? To have control over my life, I must make choices. To make choices, I must think about the options. I must decide things, weigh the pros and cons, look at the possibilities.

Furthermore, there are my desires, my wishes, my intentions, my wants. As one of my favorite bloggers, Andrea from Empowered Soul said, you set an intention and then you create these things in your life (and with this part, I would agree to an extent). In a nutshell, you control the outcomes of your life with your intentions. Which, of course, are thoughts. Same with desires and wants. They are emotionally charged, to be sure, but they are thoughts nonetheless. So far, so good, right?

Okay, so if you have control over your life, that control must ultimately come from your thoughts and thinking. So, the obvious question that arises is: do you have control over your thoughts? Do you “choose” your thoughts? Do you decide what you will think?

Let me answer these questions via a dialog with my old buddy René (René Descartes that is—”I think, therefore I am.”) Let’s see what René has to say:

Tom: So, René, do you control your thoughts? Do you choose them?
René: Of course, you bone head. I’m the thinker of my thoughts. I choose what I’m going to think.
Tom: Okay, then what is your next thought going to be?
René: Um, well, I’m going to think about my dog, Pierre.
Tom: Great! So think about Pierre for a moment.
(Pause)
Tom: Tell me, René, is Pierre the only thing you thought about during the past few minutes?
René: Well, no, I did think about the jeune fille (woman) I saw last weekend. But I mostly spent the time thinking about Pierre.
Tom: Why did you think about your date from last weekend? Don’t you have control over what you think?
René: I don’t know. Sometimes thoughts just pop into my head. You know?
Tom: Yes, I do know. So, when I first asked you what your next thought is going to be, why did you choose to think about Pierre? What caused you to choose Pierre the dog over all the millions of things to think about?
René: I don’t know. It just popped into my head to think about the dog.
Tom: Uh, René, so how much control do you have over your own thoughts?
René: Merde! I refuse to answer that question. Smart a$$!
Tom: Je t’aime, aussi, René.

I think the point should be clear. No control over your thoughts. None. If you will spend a few moments, sitting quietly, and pay attention to your thoughts, you will notice that they just arise. Sometimes there are patterns, such as when you think about the same thing for days or months at a time. At other times thoughts arise that are completely out in left field. But arise they do. And “you” have no control over them.

Given that you have no control over your thoughts and thinking, is it that hard to imagine that you have no control over your life? Let’s save further discussion for the comments, as I know there will be plenty.

The next little essay I do will tackle the next questions to be asked, ones that I suspect you may have already guessed at: who is the “you” that would or would not have control? Who is the “thinker” of your thoughts? Who is the “you” that would possibly control your thoughts, life, actions, and mind?

Namaste.

credit: brett.wagner

It seems to me that blogging tends to come in 2 basic flavors. One flavor is where the blogger writes big, long, complete essays on a topic. For the most part, my articles have been of this type. The other flavor has the blogger firing off short, to the point items. These posts never try to be complete, but they nonetheless often communicate something vital to the reader. I’m going to start experimenting with these types of posts. And here is the first one for you.

When you get right down to the nitty gritty of spirituality, you find a very stark realization staring you in the face. And that realization is: you are not in control of your life. “What?” you ask. “How can that be?” Well, just pay attention to one very simple “fact” of your existence thus far: how often do things go your way? From the big to the little, from the important to the trivial, how often does life cooperate with your thoughts, ideas, plans, goals and beliefs? Not looking so good, is it?

We like to think we have control, or we like to think that we have at least some control, but in point of fact, we’ve got none. Hell, we can’t even control the thoughts that flow through our minds, let alone the turning of the wheels of life. And, to get right down to it, there isn’t even a you who is or isn’t in control! How’s that grab you?! No you, no control.

So, who or what is in control? What if I said no one? Or what about everything, the totality of Life? Same thing, really.

I know that this may sound scary to some of you, and downright crazy to others, but the simple truth is this: life has only gotten more delicious and fun the more I’ve come to accept the truth that we have no control. Much like a surfer riding a wave: you have no control over the wave. Your only job is to enjoy the ride! Namaste.

credit: L. Marie

A while back, my friend Jonathan Mead over at Illuminated Mind wrote an article on enlightenment in which he said:

“Your realization that everything is non-dual will not break all of the previous self-limiting and fear-based beliefs you have with yourself. Breaking those agreements will require hard work and perspiration to change.”

I’ve intended for a while to write a brief article on this comment of Jonathan’s to offer a different perspective. So, here goes:

To be honest, his statement runs counter to my experience and that of others. When the realization of no-self dawns, not merely an intellectual understand, but a true realization, beliefs disappear. As Ramana Maharshi pointed out, the belief in a separate “me,” what he called the I-thought, is the root of all other beliefs. When it drops away, all beliefs are suspended. Thoughts might still arise, but they cannot be believed again. If they arise again, then the I-thought has returned.

To be awake, one would need to be free from the identification with belief. So, in a sense, the definition of enlightened would be “free from believing any thought.” So, I would have to disagree with Jonathan’s statement. Realization does, in fact, break the entire ego system.

I think the key word here is realization. What he describes in his post is, for me, more of an intellectual understanding which isn’t a realization. That’s how it appears to me.

That said, I have to agree with much of what Jonathan says elsewhere in the post. Enlightenment is, truly, no big deal and quite ordinary in a certain sense. But it does have incredible power to transform. But on its terms and by its agenda.

Personally, I’ve found realization of no-self to be an incredible “ego-cleaner.” It is as if someone has taken a roto-rooter to my mind. Nothing is allowed to remain hidden. The Truth is an amazing solvent, a powerful dissolver of the thoughts, feelings and beliefs we call “ego.” Everything must be seen through. I have no choice in this matter (because there is no I, to be sure!). It is a process that takes on a life of its own.

I’m beginning to think that if there is a purpose to life, it is this: to see everything more and more clearly. To penetrate to the truth of everything and know it fully, deeply. And that’s it, nothing else. It gives life a new flavor and savor to realize that.

Personal Note I’ve been a bit slow of late to post articles. I plan to get back to my regular posting frequency in a few weeks. My grandmother became sick a few weeks ago and then passed away. She was 93. While I can’t say that her illness and passing has caused me to post less frequently, it has resulted in a greater degree of introspection and all around distraction. Namaste.

Recently, I’ve written some articles concerning death and rebirth. The first one touched on the fate of an awakened one after the body dies, and the second one focused on past lives and reincarnation. I want to continue the discussion of rebirth and past lives today.

In my prior article, I took a position on past lives that caused quite a bit of disagreement. To be honest, what I was presenting wasn’t really what I believe about past lives or reincarnation because, to be honest, I don’t have the slightest idea what happens. And for the most part, I don’t think anyone really can know. But, you never know!

So, how about a counter point, one that is different from most of the ones I’ve heard? I was reading one of my favorite books the other night, I Am That by Nisargadatta Maharaj. If you’ve never read it, I suggest that you do. I know several people who have experienced the truth at a very profound level who feel that Nisargadatta express most clearly of anyone the perspective of an awakened one. I would tend to agree.

Nisargadatta’s views on death and rebirth were quite eye-opening. Let’s take a look:

The memory of the past, unfulfilled desires traps energy [the energy of the Absolute or Source], which manifests itself as a person. When its charge gets exhausted, the person dies. Unfulfilled desires are carried over into the next birth.

According to Nisargadatta, the entire cause of manifesting as a person is unfulfilled desires. And death occurs when the energy that is trapped with these desires exhausts itself. Remarkable. And guess what? Any desire unfulfilled during one lifetime is carried over into the next one. He continues:

Self-identification with the body creates ever fresh desires and there is no end to them, unless the mechanism of bondage is clearly seen. It is clarity that is liberating, for you cannot abandon desire, unless its cause and effects are clearly seen.

Here we have Nisargadatta’s whole take on liberation: clear seeing. Our problem again and again according to him is identification of who we are with bodies and minds, which we are not. And the cure is simple: clear seeing. Further, he points out that the attempts by so many spiritual people to rid themselves of desires is pointless, for you cannot do so. You can only see clearly the cause of desire and the effects of desire, and in the seeing clearly desire will drop away.

Now for the interesting part concerning past lives:

I do not say that the same person is reborn. It dies and dies for good. But its memories remain and their desires and fears. They supply the energy for the new person.

Interesting, very interesting! Let’s look at an example to see what Nisargadatta is saying. As I mentioned previously, I was once told by a psychic that I was one of Napoleon’s (short) generals in a past life. But from Nisargadatta’s perspective, there was a person who was a general for Napoleon. He died, and he is gone for good. Pas de general (no more general).

But his unfulfilled desires, his memories and fears remained in some form, and around these bits of mental-emotional energy coalesced a new person, presumably me. The general’s unfulfilled desires carry over into my psyche and my life, which must explain why I can never eat too many croissants or pains au chocalat. Delicieux!

As Nisargadatta would say, though, I was not one of Napoleon’s generals. A point that he made over and over again is that this “I” that we so often refer to does not exist. There is no “I” that carries over from lifetime to lifetime. Only, as he says, the energies from memories, desires and fears. That’s it.

The real takes no part in it, but makes it possible by giving it the light.

And finally, he let’s us know that the Absolute (the real) doesn’t do any of this. It occurs because the Absolute is the source of all, but it is not the cause. What is, you may ask? No way to know, at least not from what Nisargadatta has to say (nor, I think, from anything he has written).

Personally, I love his explanation of past lives and rebirth. If I had to believe in something, I would go with Nisargadatta. The picture he paints is one that I find myself liking. How about you?

credit: judepics

What if all suffering is born from one thought, one idea: the thought “I am separate from everyone and everything?” Then the cure for all suffering would be simply to drop this belief. Sounds so easy, doesn’t it? Drop one thought, one idea, and you are free forever.

But what does that mean, drop this one thought that I am separate from everyone and everything? That would be dropping the belief that I am me. There really isn’t any way that I can pretend to myself or others that Tom is one with everything. I mean, Tom inhabits a body, thinks thoughts about himself, spends large amounts of time fixated upon the thoughts, feelings and beliefs that seem to make him the center of the Universe. No, Tom is very much separate.

So, the only way to drop the idea of being separate is drop the belief that I am Tom. To drop the identification of Tom as the reality of that which is typing these words. Is the typist, in fact, Tom? Is there anyone actually doing the typing? It is in asking questions such as these that it is possible to get a glimpse of our true nature. When we drop the identification with our “selves” and drop the identification as the one who does things, then we can rest as that which is real. That which is true. That which is truth.

The truth is given many names: spirit, God, presence, awareness, beingness, consciousness, the Universe, etc. Awareness or Love are my two favorites. I can really connect with these terms. Awareness is that which looks out my eyes, and love is that which looks out of my heart. Both of these work for me.

Awareness is that which connects me the quickest to an experience of this sense of oneness, this existence beyond the notion of my separate self. I find that placing my focus upon awareness itself, turning my attention inward and looking at awareness as it is, creates a tremendous sense of openness. It creates a space from which lots of goodness flows. It opens “me” to greater peace. And that is a wonderful thing.

It seems to me that all problems are completely resolved in this experience. In this stillness. In this presence or awareness. Being still, resting in reality, feels like the ultimate answer. We shall see.

credit: llamnudds

Summer is a great season. A time away from school for kids, a time of travel for families, and a time for enjoying the outdoors. Here in Missouri, it does get a bit hot in the summer, but this summer is a very strange exception. Only one week of hot weather. School begins tomorrow for my kiddo, and he just might wear long pants.

And what does this have to do with the spiritual journey? Not a thing. Well, at least not overtly. The spiritual journey has seasons, too, some hot and sweltering like summer, others cold and dreary like winter. Summer is a time of growth for crops and everything that grows. If there is plenty of rain, corn grows tall in the summer heat. Much like people do. They often learn to grow tall in the heat of their spiritual fire.

All the heat, though, does require a bit of rest at times. After a period of strong spiritual growth, it is sometimes necessary to take a little vacation. I’ve been doing that off and on the past few weeks. Very helpful. I recommend you give it a try. Give yourself a few days or weeks away from any formal practice or procedure. Be a little loose and more spontaneous. See what happens. You will probably find that growth still continues, even without your efforts. Spirit grows us, so how could growth stop? Just like a well watered plant, you will continue to grow.

Enjoy the rest of your summer.

I have commented before upon this one line from the Sandokai, but today I want to take a different look at it. As the years have gone by, and my experience with teachings and teachers and the whole world of spirituality has increased, I’m beginning to see this one simple line as probably the greatest bit of wisdom that every spiritual teacher should know by heart. For so many doing the spiritual gig have encountered the absolute but not yet seen that fully flower into enlightenment.

What does it mean “to encounter the absolute?”

The Absolute. How to explain what is beyond explanation? Many people have had spiritual experiences. You meditate and experience bliss. You walk in the woods and are overwhelmed by the presence of nature and life in the trees and plants, earth and sky. You recall a past life. You have an “ah-ha!” moment about some aspect of your existence, a great insight into how things work. All of these are the joys of spirituality. But none of them are what we mean by encountering the absolute.

credit: bernardoh

To encounter the absolute is to suddenly see, to know, to experience the truth. It is wordless, soundless Silence. It is often described as a parting of the veil, the veil of believing you are a separate self. For one shining moment (or hours or days or years) you know what you are. There is nothing that is not what you are. You are the formless, empty, spirit, and yet you are everything.

“Have I experienced an encounter with the absolute?” you ask yourself. The answer is almost surely no. If you’ve encountered it, you know. You have no doubt. No spiritual experience can compare. And none will ever mean anything to you again.

Why is this not enlightenment?

While the absolute is the formless truth, it is being experienced here in the world of form. As such, the world of form and its priorities may arise again to dominate the experience of someone who has encountered the absolute. In other words, the veil may part, which has the tendency to tear holes in the veil, but the pieces remaining will often fall back to obscure our sight. These pieces we could call remnants of the ego, our belief in a separate self.

Once you’ve seen, you’ve seen. You can’t un-know what you now know. But you can get lost in the mind and the world again. You know it isn’t you, but the momentum of what was your human life is still carrying you forward. And thus you can still be operating in the world from a not awake, not enlightened place.

Many (most?) spiritual teachers whom we encounter in the world are in this exact position. They have tasted the absolute, but they have not reached a place that we would call enlightened. They are still operating from some sense of a personal identity. They are not fully awake.

credit: beggs

And that is perfectly fine. A teacher is not lesser because he hasn’t fully awakened. There are still many, many people who need what he or she has to offer. The grave fallacy that so many run into, which probably leads to a certain amount of difficulties, is the notion that a teacher needs to be “done” to be a teacher. But it isn’t so. All that is required is honesty with yourself and those you teach and interact with. Much can be learned, much can be shared.

My story of encountering the absolute

Please keep in mind throughout what follows that it is just a story. All experiences are just experiences, and they really don’t carry any deeper meaning. Whether it is the Buddha under the Bodhi tree, or Tom Stine in his favorite chair, the only purpose for stories like this one are to help others.

That said, after many years of spiritual experiences, meditation, retreats, you name it, here is what I experienced one evening. These are the words I wrote down the following day:

I had spent a good part of the day Friday experiencing a strange on and off anxiety which mostly went away when I sat down and was still. I worked with a client in the late afternoon, and we had a really good session. However, I felt a compelling need by the evening to spend a long time sitting and meditating. I got a bit distracted, though, and wasted time on the Internet. By nine o’clock, the compulsion to sit had grown stronger, and so I sat.

As I sat, many thoughts and beliefs came up, and I started doing some inquiry on them. I saw through a number of the beliefs, and felt the whole thing releasing easily. But as I kept going further with it, I kept coming back to asking “who is the one who believes that?” And after using that question a number of times, I found myself asking, “what am I?”

Then the strangest thought came to me. The thought was, “Everyone puts the emphasis on ‘I’ when the emphasis should be on AM.” And then I saw it, I mean I actually saw it, I saw behind the word “I.” Or as Ramana would say, I saw behind the I-thought. It was like it was suddenly transparent. And there was nothing there. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was as if “I” is just a little hazy thing, and behind it is absolutely nothing, no substance, no essence, no fullness. I is completely empty of meaning, of ANYTHING. But as I’ve heard Adya say many times, “it is the fullest nothing you’ve ever seen.” I could feel this nothing throughout my whole “being.”

And I started laughing. I was laughing so hard. I kept saying over and over again, “well I’ll be damned.” My mind couldn’t believe it, but “I” knew that it was real. And then it got even funnier. I realized that every time I’ve ever thought or said the word “I,” it was a joke. There is no I. Never was. And every time I thought “I” this or “I” that, I started laughing even harder. I couldn’t stop laughing. And I could barely say “I”. The word still seems like a joke today. At least I can say it and type it without laughing. But whenever I say “I”, I’m not talking about anyone.

So today everything is a little weird. My mind keeps asking when this is going to stop. It wants to know if this is permanent, or abiding, or is it going to fade away and leave me. And yet when I look behind the thought “I”, I see this, this, no-thing. It permeates everything. And yet my mind is still doing its thing, telling its stories, doing its silly routine. But it does seem quieter. And it seems so ridiculous.

And so the non-existent journey continues. The ego resurrects itself from the ashes of its undoing, but it is fundamentally changed. I can never look at it or life the same again. I’ve seen it for what it is, an empty thought. But yet, there it is, often beguiling, often giving me opportunities to get lost in thought and feelings for a few hours or a few days. But always then the opportunity to see fresh and to “know again” what I have always known.

But “to encounter the absolute is not yet enlightenment.” I get it. The absolute has not flowered into what we would call enlightenment. Not yet. It is very strange, but I can feel an undercurrent, something carrying me forward, in ways that I cannot imagine or toward a destination that I cannot foresee. But onward it goes. And that is the way of it for all of us. Always moving onward toward the fullest expression of the Absolute.

I’m grateful that I was introduced to this powerful reminder of humility in the face of whatever I may experience. I only wish that many, many others on the spiritual path would know these words, too. There are more than a few teachers out there who could use a dose of humility. Wouldn’t you agree?

Thanks for reading. Let me hear from you below. Namaste.

I love the subject of past lives or reincarnation. I went to a “psychic” once who told me that I was one of Napoleon’s generals. I guess that explains why I love speaking French, eat French food and I’m 5 ft 6 in tall (can’t be taller than the Emperor!).

Yet even though I love the subject of past lives, I have to say that I don’t have much investment in the concept. I don’t find the subject particularly important to the spiritual journey. Moreover, I can’t even really say that I “believe” in them. Let me explain further.

Past Lives and Memories

The entire subject of past lives hinges upon one thing: memories. Many people remember the events of a life that, in the memory, occurred at some point in the past, sometimes even in a past unknown to modern history (like Atlantis). There have been some excellent books written on the subject, with some seemingly intriguing bits of evidence to indicate that indeed some people really can remember a past life.

But ask the following questions, especially if you can remember a past life: Was it your past life? Are you certain? Is there any way that you can ever know? Isn’t it just a memory, a thought, passing through your awareness? I find it equally compelling to explain a past life memory in this way:

Since consciousness is One, since that is the direct experience of someone who realizes the truth of their being, then that consciousness that is aware seemingly in them is also the same consciousness that is aware seemingly in everyone else and at every moment in time. The consciousness that is what I am is the consciousness that you are, that Jesus was, that Attila the Hun was, that Hammurabi was, that Louis XIV was. All the same. Remember, this Oneness of consciousness is the realization of awakening or enlightenment: everywhere you turn, same, same, same.

So, a past life memory would be simply the consciousness that seems to be Tom accessing the consciousness that seems to have been Genghis Khan (and no, I don’t have a memory like that, but it makes for a fun illustration!). It isn’t Tom’s memory. It’s just consciousness being One and recognizing aspects of form that used to be called Genghis. Get it? In a certain sense we could say that every past life is my past life. And also we could say none are.

Can Past Lives Help Us Realize the Truth?

It makes the whole subject of past life’s quite nebulous and vague and not all that useful to our journey. Sure they are fun, but what to do with it? Will it be of any real use to realizing the truth? Rather, they can become a source of spiritual pride (I was hanging out with Jesus!) and in fact be an barrier to learning the truth of who we are. We can get obsessed with who we might have been.

credit: bortescristian

And if this is a possibility for past life memories, I think you can see why they won’t help us to understand what happens after the death of the body (as discussed in my last post). There may be a host of memories, whether they are mine or not, but do they really tell me what is going to happen when the body called Tom dies? No. At the absolute best, they could tell me about the death of the body of Attila or Genghis or Jesus. But Tom? No. So, you see why past lives don’t really do any good telling us what to expect after death.

Let me end on one of my favorite jokes about the afterlife to wrap-up these last few posts of death and reincarnation (if you are a bit too politically correct, you may want to pass-up this one):

A man dies and goes to Heaven where he is greeted by St. Peter. They begin a tour of the place, which turns out to be a gigantic building. As they walk, they come to many doors. At one door, St. Peter opens it, revealing a huge room filled with every food you could imagine and half naked women parading around. “Muslim Paradise” says St. Peter. At another door, the man is shown a large cathedral with many people on their knees praying. “Catholic saints,” says St. Peter. And on they walk, with St. Peter showing him room after room. After a bit, as they approach another door, St. Peter turns to the man and says, “Shhh…. Don’t say anything as we pass the next door.” After they pass, and have gone some distance, the man asks St. Peter why they had to be quiet. The response: “Oh, that was the Baptists. They think they’re the only ones here.”

And now you know what church my mother dragged me to when I was younger. Poor woman, she finally gave-up after 3 years of my annoying teenage protests. Ah, the Baptist Church and I were not meant to be, I’m afraid.

credit: Loz Flowers

Today’s post is by Evan Hadkins at wellbeingandhealth.net.

I’m a blogger. I’d like to make my income from blogging and a membership course that I plan to open in early October. None of which is happening at the moment. Making my income this way exists only in my imagination, only as a desire. Which brings me smack bang up against the nature of desire and our imaginations.

Imagination can be a drawback - we can pretty much always imagine things being better than they are. Which is a pretty certain recipe for discontent and frustration. And yet building and creating anything means bringing something from nothing: and imagination is vital. Which leads us back to desire. To move something into the world of form means using our imagination (and much else too).

We imagine something that meets our desire. Anything from a sandwich to meet our hunger, to a major public building to meet the desire for beauty, to a membership course to meet others’ desire for greater contentment and my desire to make my income doing what I love. Our imagination is often fueled by desire. This too sounds like a recipe for discontent and frustration. Wanting what we don’t have - surely this is the problem? Surely this will lead to only frustration and discontent?

I think the answer to these questions is one that can be infuriating: yes and no. Knowing we want a sandwich and eating one doesn’t disturb our contentment. Each stage of this process can feel good. From the arousal of appetite, to knowing what we want, to going about getting it and how it feels inside us: all this can feel right. All this in a sense can be experienced as contentment. Or it could be a process of discontent - perhaps we haven’t been paying attention and we are suddenly ravenous and sick with hunger, unclear about what would be good to eat, bolting the food instead of chewing it, and it feeling not so good in our stomach. The whole process can be one of discontent.

It seems to me that it is not desire and imagination themselves that are our problem: it is our attachment to them. If I don’t have the food I want available I can spend lots of time cursing and getting annoyed. And I can stay this way for a long time. This is the attachment. If I can let go this attachment I may have more options - having a bit of something now while I go buy what I want, or finding that what I have will do for now. (I’m not saying that the swearing and cursing is a problem: if it helps us get back to contentment and focus on what we want I think that is OK too.)

This is a simple physical example. But I think it applies to pretty much any desire we have. Whether the desire is emotional (for example, to express our sadness or regret), intellectual (perhaps to understand what makes for a successful blog), spiritual (such as having a sense that we are both ourselves and the universe at once) or social (like a satisfying connection with other people). Whatever the dimension of our life I think it is the attachment to the desire that is the problem. In each case the desire may lead to a satisfying or frustrating course of action. And the only difference is our attachment to the desire.

Let me earth this is a bit in my own situation. Would I like to be owning my income from blogging already? Sure I would. Would I like it to be happening faster than it is? You bet. And at this point I have a choice. Get caught up in my impatience or do what I can. The difference is attachment.

If I get caught up in my attachment I lose the joy of the process. My attachment to wanting to make money doing what I love means that I am no longer loving what I do. All of a sudden I’m not doing what I love but resenting how slowly my blog is developing. My attachment destroys what it is attached to.

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Instead I can be content and active. When I’m content I don’t spend all my time just lying around. Doing things in tune with who I am are a postive joy. Even working hard at them. Contentment can be a very active state of being. But this requires us knowing what our desires are and appreciating the role of our imagination in meeting our desires. (I think our fantasies of just lying around and doing nothing mean that we have been pushing ourselves - usually because we are attached to some ideal of who we should be.)

It seems to me that, in this world of form, our desires can let us know what we need. It seems to me that our imaginations can help us make this world of form a better place for all of us. Our desires and imagination are good servants but attachment to them makes them into bad masters.

This is my approach to desire and imagination at the moment. I’d like to hear your experience in the comments.

Thanks to Tom for his hospitality in letting me do this guest post. It’s stretched me to write about this - put me to the edges of what I can say. I hope it’s beneficial to you.

Evan Hadkins is a blogger who lives in Hobart, Australia.  He writes about wellbeing and health with a special focus on psychology and self-development. You can enjoy his writing at wellbeingandhealth.net.

Something I have never quite understood is that after we come to this realization of the one self that we are not our [the] body or the mind or the thoughts, then we see the body die what then? And what is the difference in the death of a realized one and a unrealized person?

What happens when the body dies? That is a question that has plagued mortal man from the earliest days. So much of religion is basically an attempt to answer that question, with enough theories of heavens and hells to keep us debating for the rest of our lives.

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So let me start by saying what seems obvious to me: I don’t know what happens after the body dies. And neither does anyone else. If you say, “well, we go to _________ after death,” or tell me about other dimensions, etc., I’m going to ask you a very simple question: How do you know? Have you died and then experienced these things? No, of course you haven’t. So death is as yet a mystery to you. (As for past lives, let me write a follow-up article to deal with them.)

Even if you’ve had a near death experience, all you can do is tell me about that particular experience, but not the full experience of death (notice they are called near death experiences). There is absolutely no way to know what happens after the body dies until it actually dies and you find out.

Observations about death and consciousness

That said, we can make a few interesting observations, though, about what might happen after death if you have realized the truth about what you are, namely the One.

1. When you realize that you are not the mind, the body, thoughts, the ego, etc., you realize that the awareness (or consciousness) that you are, the “you” that is looking out of your body’s eyes, is the same awareness looking out of everyone else’s eyes. And the same fundamental beingness that is the house you live in, the Earth you are standing on, the sky, the stars, your thoughts, others’ thoughts, the very fabric of reality. All One, all the same, all conscious, all aware.

2. When the body dies, and the thoughts in it die, and when the energy contained in it dissipates, and everything ceases, what happens to the awareness contained within it? Ah, trick question, for the awareness/consciousness is not contained within it! We are so used to feeling “trapped” in the body that we think we are actually trapped in a body. But we are not. What I am is the beingness that is Everything. And this beingness, this conscious awareness contains the body.

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Look-up from your computer right now and look around the room. Is not your body contained in the room you are in? Isn’t it a part of the room? And the room, isn’t it a part of the building? And the city or town in which the building exists? And planet Earth? And so on until we get that this body is contained in the Universe as a whole? And you are the Universe. The awake, aware, conscious, alive Wholeness of existence, the totality of the Universe (and so much more), that is what you are. So, the body is actually contained in you. You realize this fact, too, upon awakening.

3. So, when the body dies, the conscious awareness that appeared to be within it doesn’t go anywhere, for nothing at all has been lost to the Universe. It has merely started to change form. But the consciousness itself is still right where it was before: everywhere! Nothing leaves, dissipates, disappears, or goes anywhere. The One is still ever present Oneness.

4. As for what awareness/consciousness that formerly identified as Tom experiences at death, I have no idea, and as mentioned before, neither does anyone else. This is still true whether you are “realized” or not.

What’s the difference between the death of the realized and unrealized?

And finally, let me answer the last question: “And what is the difference in the death of a realized one and a unrealized person?” I believe it was Sailor Bob Adamson who said, “The only difference between someone who has realized the truth and someone who hasn’t is that the realized one knows that there is no difference.” Once you realize the truth, you don’t know any differences.

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While other people will still look different to you, have different color hair, wear different clothes, etc., you will have no awareness that any of that matters. They will still be what you are. So at death, how can there be any difference? To the realized one, whatever is experienced at death is experienced by every aspect of consciousness. He knows himself to be that consciousness, so nothing to him has changed. The form has changed, but nothing else. Everything is still everything. Oneness is still One.

And for the unrealized one? Again, it is impossible to say. You will simply have to die to find out what happens. I know this answer won’t make a lot of people happy, and it would ruin sales of lots of books if it were widely accepted as the truth that it is. But it is still the truth. We can argue until the cows come home, but it won’t matter. You can’t know death of the body until it dies. And then you will discover what happens next.

Namaste….. Tom

Let’s have another perspective on the question, “Who am I?” I invite you to once again give your attention to the great master from the sock drawer, Puppetji.

I had the pleasure of interviewing a wonderful spiritual teacher, Larry Melton, who lives and teaches in Davis, California. Larry was a student of Adyashanti’s for a few years, and then after he experienced a profound spiritual awakening, he was asked by Adya to teach.

Our conversation is focused primarily on Larry’s experience of spiritual awakening, how that developed over the years he spent in spirituality, and what all of that has meant for his life. We also discussed awakening quite a bit, and it was fascinating to hear Larry’s perspectives and insights. I think you will agree. So click play below to listen now, or download the mp3 and take it with you on your iPod.

I know from my prior experience with videos that some of you may prefer to read rather than watch or listen. To accommodate everyone, I’ve had a transcript made of this interview. You can obtain the transcript by subscribing for free to my newsletter, Living from Consciousness. Enter your email address in the sign-up box to the right, and you will receive an email with instructions for downloading the transcript. Current subscribers will be receiving an email, too, with instructions for downloading.

I like to provide my subscribers with unique content not found here on the website, and this transcript is simply my way of saying thanks to my subscribers. Remember, the newsletter is free, and I respect your inbox and your privacy (but you knew that, right?).