The Peace That Carries You

"I feel as if I’m going backwards while everything on your side develops and gets easier. To be – you emphasise it’s the most natural and simplest thing. But I cannot try to be, because I already am this being. I cannot imagine it – it has no qualities, no size, no figure. I don’t know whether something is to be done. I had a wonderful dream of sitting in a chair in the air, held by forces, with no weight, nothing to be done. But now I’m getting tired, drawing backwards, not interested in contact. Is this being taking care of itself, like a flow of life that carries me without my being active? Rupert says: ‘Yes, it’s taking care of you. It’s always present inside you, always open, always loving, always at peace, always available. I want to share a private conversation I had this morning. It’s true – I’m in the full flow of creativity now, enjoying it. But I hope that towards the end of my life, this flow subsides. I would like one day to have no creative projects, just spend my last years in my garden for no reason at all, creating nothing, just resting in God’s being, seeing God’s being in everyone and everything. There’s a time for creative flow, and there’s a time for that to subside. We all love you dearly.’"

"At the end of chapter 15 of The Nature of Consciousness, you write that humanity cannot survive the materialist paradigm. Why is it so difficult for our culture to see that materialism doesn’t explain reality? Rupert says: ‘I mean something very specific. The belief that we are temporary, finite, separate selves is the inevitable consequence of the materialist paradigm. And the inevitable consequence of the belief in separation is sorrow on the inside and conflict on the outside. That’s what I mean when I say humanity can’t survive. Why is it so difficult? The evidence of sense perception is so persuasive. The senses used to tell us the earth was flat. We still derive our model of reality from perception. The experience of seeing suggests I am located here behind my eyes, and you are out there, separate from me. Our culture is founded on that idea. We don’t realise how deeply conditioned our minds have become. It’s like wearing tinted contact lenses for so long you no longer realise you’re seeing through a tinted lens. We think the senses are a clear window – but we see things as the mind represents them, not as they are.’"

"Since my partner and I started living together, I’ve noticed his habits continually trigger my ego. The more I get triggered, the more resentment I feel – an intensely sickly feeling in my stomach, followed by fearful thoughts about whether this is the end. But when I feel present, I look at him and know I love him. Can you explain what’s happening? Rupert says: ‘Do you discuss this with him? That’s good. And can you discuss it lovingly and with humour, or does it become defensive and accusing? A principle from nonviolent communication: don’t start a sentence with “you”. “You did this, you drive me crazy” – it’s accusing and tends to be met with defence. Find out what objections are legitimate shared issues that require balance, and what are your own private peeves. If your partner has a stutter or wears red t-shirts you don’t like – that’s your problem, not his. Be clear about the difference. These habits don’t sound serious enough to break up the relationship – they’re little ripples on the surface. Be affectionate and humorous about them. If you can remember not to start a sentence with “you”, your partner will feel invited rather than attacked.’"

"For those of us who hold the intention of sharing this understanding through our work – holding space for meditation and yoga – what guidance would you give? Would you recommend having a teacher? Rupert says: ‘I recommend having a friend you can share these matters with, discuss, explore. But if you don’t feel inclined, don’t feel you should. If you do, I would strongly recommend a relationship of friendship, not a traditional teacher-student relationship. Regarding sharing this understanding – I encourage everyone to do so, in their own way. At one end of the spectrum, being a quiet light in your community without ever speaking directly about these matters. At the other end, speaking, writing, holding retreats. And in between, a whole spectrum of possibilities. When you begin, it’s natural to use the material from your own learning – the languaging, analogies, ideas. I did exactly this with Francis Lucille. But in time, you make the understanding your own. You find your own language by responding to others’ questions – questions you never asked yourself. That forces you to develop new pathways. The teaching evolves; the understanding doesn’t. My teacher said, “The truth needs to be reformulated by every generation.”’"

"I have periods when I meditate regularly, then drift into distraction. Is it okay for that to happen? Should I trust the cycle will come round again, or am I wasting time with bad habits? Rupert says: ‘If you notice yourself drifting off, pause. Try to get in touch with the feeling that’s initiating your activity – before you either sit on your cushion or engage in whatever you fear may be an escape. There are two essential possibilities. Is your action initiated by a sense of lack, or does it come from the fullness of yourself? Do you feel full and want to express it – creativity, sharing? Or is there a sense of lack so uncomfortable you want to avoid it? We avoid it by obvious ways – eating, entertainment – and subtler ways: watching spiritual YouTube clips, even formal meditation can be a virtuous way of avoiding the unbearable sense of lack. Pascal said all humanity’s problems arise because a person cannot sit alone in a room for five minutes without doing anything. If they do, what do they find? Usually some subtle dissatisfaction. We escape into thinking about past and future. So pause. If there are no demands and you find this unbearable emptiness – don’t distract yourself. Turn towards it. Welcome it. Befriend it."

"In my first meditation with you, when I opened my eyes, I felt that whatever I might do or say, I’d be moving away from being. I told my partner I cannot say anything about it – there’s no taste, just cessation of everything. She said for her, being is like music. In the Diamond Approach, they speak of qualities of being – strength, trust. But in my experience, I cannot even say it’s nothing. Am I right that you can’t say anything about it? Rupert says: ‘You’re a little more Shiva, and your partner is a little more Shakti. That’s beautiful – don’t let it become a source of conflict. Only consciousness’s experience of itself is true. If consciousness could speak, all it would say is “I am”. As soon as you add any quality, you take a step down. But it’s legitimate to say “I am infinite, I am eternal” – these are necessary concessions. The mind experiences agitation; consciousness is free of agitation – in other words, its nature is peace. So it’s legitimate to remain silent, as you do. It’s equally legitimate to speak of consciousness’s peaceful, loving nature, as your partner does. Both are valid. You don’t have to turn away from experience – go deeply into any experience, or turn away from it, you come to the same place. The Vedantic and Tantric approaches are entirely complementary.’"

"During formal meditation with eyes closed, it’s straightforward to see that perceptions arise in the space of what I am. But going about my day, it’s hard to dismiss the sense of localisation. Does that ever disappear? Rupert says: ‘The feeling of being localised doesn’t disappear. It’s not possible to view the world from an unlocalised point of view. If the Buddha sat next to you, he would experience the world from the localised perspective of his body. What goes away is that we no longer derive our identity from the apparent evidence of sense perception. Your understanding has to override that. Imagine you go to bed and dream what you’re experiencing now. You think you’re sitting on the sofa, but you’re actually upstairs asleep. Then you start lucid dreaming – the dream carries on, but you realise you’re not located in dream-time and dream-space. Do the same now. Start lucid waking. You are infinite consciousness. You don’t exist in the time and space your experience seems to be happening in – you exist in eternity. But the only way to have this experience is by localising yourself in this body. You realise you are the entirety of it, not just the body. The subject-object relationship is just a mechanism that enables consciousness to have objective experience. Consciousness lives in eternity but acts in time – one thing, not two.’"

"Six years ago, an illness shattered my ego identity. I started meditating an hour a day and felt a shift – like I was losing myself. One night I felt I was slipping away, completely dissolving, but I was terrified. My ego threw the whole kitchen sink at me. I stepped away. Now I’ve returned to your teachings, but when I meditate, I still feel fear. What’s happening? Rupert says: ‘Let me interpret your experience using the King Lear analogy. King Lear gets sick and starts practising self-enquiry. He traces back through layers of experience – thoughts, emotions, history – realising he’s not any of these. He goes all the way back until he can’t find anything else to let go of. At that moment, he intuits: if I take another step, I will die. So he goes back to his regular life. What he doesn’t realise is that one more step would bring the knowledge “I am (the actor) John Smith”. It’s not true that King Lear will die – he never really lived. But until he takes that step, this is hidden. So the fear of death arises, and he retreats. Every time he goes back to everyday life, it gets less satisfactory. You’re on the threshold, having gone back and forth numerous times. Next time the fear arises, don’t turn away – surrender. You can’t really do it; it’s like a surrender. You say you feel you’ll go crazy – that’s King Lear. The ego can only exist by identifying with something. Surrender feels like death because there’s nothing to hold on to. But it’s not craziness – it’s the threshold to what you truly want.’"

"I’m longing for emotional depth and trying to practise coming from love instead of lack. But I keep attracting unavailable men. Today I tried your advice about smiling when triggered – it released tension. But is it wise to be so open when I know this longing is my sense of lack? Rupert says: ‘Are you completely available? No. Is it any surprise you attract people who validate your own sense of yourself? It’s not them who are unavailable – it’s you. The universe is mirroring something in you. Like someone who isn’t in touch with their fear dreaming they’re chased by a tiger – the tiger is an outer representation of an inner state. You don’t dream of unavailable men; it’s happening in the waking state, but it’s the same principle. What to do? Become aware of this fear. Don’t take the Vedantic path of turning away – take the Tantric path. Turn towards it. In the Tantric approach, they speak of devouring your emotions. You welcome what is most distasteful, you befriend it. Because what you are on the inside and what the universe is on the outside are the same system. One day you’ll meet a man who’s completely available – not by chance, but because you have changed inside.’"

"Just before Christmas, I was diagnosed with cancer. After the initial shock, I had quite a lot of peace around it. A few months earlier, I’d had thoughts that ambushed me: “For how much longer will I feel this breeze on my face?” – not morose, but appreciative. After the diagnosis, it made sense as intuition. But with investigations and treatment, I started getting worried. My friends said they were waiting for me to collapse, that I must be in denial. Is it possible to be peaceful and quite ill, yet also have fears about treatment? Rupert says: ‘Yes, absolutely. Deep down in you there is this peace – and it comes from your firsthand, direct knowledge of your being. You know your being is whole, intact, not sick. That’s the source of your peace. It’s real – not a fragile state you’re manufacturing to cope. It’s the peace that passes understanding, not derived from the content of experience. On the surface, it’s perfectly legitimate to be concerned about how this develops, what it means for your life – there may be anxiety, and that’s natural. It’s not in contradiction to the deeper peace. I understand why your friends say that – denial is a common coping strategy – but my intuition is that’s not what you’re doing. Perhaps they’re projecting what they would feel. If they’re not in touch with their being, they won’t understand that you could receive this news and be at peace. They’re still your friends – but know that you have another group of friends here who may not know you as a person, but we know who you are deep down. We love you. That’s what real friendship is.’"

"You talked about deep sleep – that pure awareness remains while all objects disappear. But my experience is that I have no idea what this means. There’s no consciousness until I wake up. Do you make a different experience? Rupert says: ‘Have you ever been woken by an alarm clock from deep sleep? What is it that hears the sound? You agreed that consciousness is what hears it. Now: have you ever had the experience of the absence of awareness? No – and could anyone? No. So if nobody has ever had nor could ever have the experience of the absence of awareness, why do you believe so strongly that there is such a thing? You’re inferring the absence of awareness from the absence of memory. But we’re being scientific here – using direct experience, not inference. Billions of observers under all circumstances report: I have never had the experience of the absence of awareness. In my experience, awareness is ever-present – always present. You believe otherwise because you’ve been conditioned to believe consciousness is derived from matter. That belief has gone so deeply into your mind you consider it obvious fact. But nobody has ever found that substance called matter that supposedly exists outside knowing. Knowing is the only substance that has or could ever be experienced. Why do we believe there’s something other than knowing? Look at the state of the world – the sorrow, conflict, aggression. Could it be that what we have wrong is our fundamental paradigm of separation?’"