Resistance

All mental suffering involves resistance.  Something happens that we don’t like: we get cut off in traffic, our investments lose value, someone criticizes us, the ceiling leaks.  Or maybe we just want something, like a possession or a lover.  The ego naturally resists the situation, because it needs to struggle.  The ego is nothing more than a mental process that battles the Now.  It almost always wants things to be other than the way they are, even when there is no immediate crisis, so it chases money, puts up a façade for social acceptance, replaces perfectly good possessions with new versions, judges, competes, and compares.

Why does resistance make us suffer, and why does it never get us what we want?  Well, what are we resisting?  What we’re perceiving.  So the mind is fighting itself.  It cannot stop perceiving what it perceives and nothing will change it, so resisting it is always a battle that cannot be won.  The ego is therefore fighting an unwinnable battle against reality, which not only does not change things, but also makes matters worse because the battle is painful.

The true self simply is.  It embraces the Now.  It does not worry about the future, regret the past, or resist or struggle in the present.  That is why its natural state is peace.

This does not mean that the true self does nothing.  It avoids reckless motorists, decides whether to pull out of losing investments or walk away from critics, and calls repairmen to fix the house.  But it does so in a matter-of-fact manner.  It does not fret and tremble in the process.  It also pursues things that make a good earthly life, such as a career, friends, lovers, and possessions, but again, it does so matter-of-factly.

It is not our activities that determine our well-being, but the mental state we are in while we do them.

Expectations

Our enjoyment of something is not merely the result of how it affects us.  It’s how it affects us relative to expectations.

We’ve all planned to do something that we thought would be a wonderful experience, only to find that we didn’t enjoy it as much as we’d hoped.  What happened was that we “set the bar” too high, so that even though the experience was enjoyable, the enjoyment did not reach the bar, and as a result we felt disappointed.  If we’d not built up those expectations, we’d have had a much better time.

One reason we build expectations is that we believe that this world is all there is, and that the false self is all we are.  This causes us to try to squeeze all the juice out of life that we can, because this is all we get.  We normally feel sort of empty, bored, or lacking, so we might seek peak experiences in order to make life worth living.  Being empty, we bring nothing to experiences; our enjoyment is dependent entirely on them.

When we get in touch with our true selves, we feel complete, full, and satisfied, even when our worldly situation isn’t perfect.  We are what we are, and nothing can either add to or subtract from us.  When we experience things, we bring ourselves to them, so our enjoyment is not completely dependent on the experiences, but is the result of a combination of experiences and us.  Thus, our experiences do not need to be peak because we bring our own joy to them.  Peak experiences might even seem superfluous since we feel joyful without them.

Addiction

Some folks are addicted to alcohol or drugs.  Others are addicted to non-chemical things such as gambling, sex, television, or approval.  These are nothing more than external manifestations of selfing.

We are constantly thinking, judging, planning, worrying, and/or regretting.  We trap ourselves in a state of self-centeredness, of viewing everything in terms of how it affects us, how it has affected us, and how it will affect us.  We picture ourselves as little action figures that must obtain and accomplish, and if we don’t, woe is us.  Life in this mode is nothing more than a struggle to “get” things.  Even when we get something we want, we can’t enjoy it for very long because we start thinking about how to get the next thing.  For example, if a gambler wins, he can’t simply walk away with his winnings – he has to pursue more.

We cannot stop this stressful process because we believe that we are the process, and that if we stop it then we will cease to be.

We develop external addictions when the stress of selfing becomes too much to bear.  We reach for something – anything – as a form of distraction from or deadening of the mental pain we cause ourselves.  We keep using it time and time again.  The relief is only temporary because the burden of selfing does not go away.  As soon as the drug or alcohol wears off, the sex or television show is over, or we’ve gotten the money or compliment, we are back to the pain of selfing, with nothing to buffer us from it.

We might mistakenly blame others’ problems on the particular thing that they attach themselves to.  It might seem that overindulging in something is the root cause of their pain, so we might label them “alcoholic” or “sexoholic” or “foodaholic”.  Well, they were already in pain – that’s why they became alcoholic or sexoholic or foodaholic in the first place.  What caused that pain?  Selfing.  So all of them are selfoholic.  This is why “solving” an addiction by giving up alcohol or sex or gambling doesn’t stop the existential pain, and also why people sometimes relapse or develop an addiction to something else.

Nonduality

The Western view of reality is one of duality: everything is separate from everything else. There are people, animals, rocks, trees, buildings, cars, water, fire, and planets. For each of us there is “me”, and “not me” (i.e., everything/everyone else). This seems obvious: we see a tree, but we are not the tree.

Activity in the dual world involves an ego doing something in order to achieve a result. We lift a weight, throw a ball, or strike a nail with a hammer. A does B in order to get result C. Everything is goal-oriented.

The premise that each of us is separate from everyone and everything else and needs to accomplish feats in order to achieve ends is precisely what allows a sense of alienation. Because everything is foreign to us, life often seems adversarial: people compete with us for money and parking spaces, the weather damages our possessions and ruins our good time, and traffic and power outages inconvenience us. “They” do unpleasant things to “me”. Other things and people are objects that pose dangers and so must be opposed. Even our loved ones sometimes seem to be “against” us.

The ego thrives on duality. It cannot survive without the concept of “me” versus “them”. It has to be in opposition to something or someone. This is why there is so much conflict in the world. All wars, arguments, competitions, manipulation, criticism, and becoming offended are born of the egoic desire to oppose someone or something.

The view of reality held by some Eastern religions is that there are no separate egos or objects. Everything and everyone is part of a unified whole. Rather than an actor performing an action in order to achieve a goal, there is only activity. There is no idea that doing is opposite not-doing. An activity is simply what it is. Likewise, an object is not a tool to be used for some purpose; it simply is what it is. This concept is called nonduality. 

Nonduality might seem preposterous to us Westerners. How can we be a flower, or a giraffe be us? It’s not that simple. Nonduality is not a literal concept. It is a way of perceiving that focuses not on everything’s separateness, but on experiences. In each experience there is no subject or object but an event and/or a perception.

To illustrate the difference between dual and nondual perception, let’s say you look at a beautiful tree. Your dual perspective says, “That’s a tree. It’s green. I think it’s pretty.” You are aware not only of the tree but also of these thoughts. You might also be aware that there is a seer (you) and a seen (tree).  Nondual awareness simply perceives. It does not label anything. Concepts such as tree, you, green, and pretty don’t arise. You are immediately and fully aware of the tree, with no thoughts taking any of your attention, so that you can fully experience the sensation and possibly enjoy it more than you could via dual perception. It’s almost as though you become the experience rather than have the experience.

Many of us have experienced nondual activity. A leisurely stroll is nondual because it is done for its own sake, not in order to get from point A to point B. When we are absorbed in a fun game or sport, without being focused on winning, that is nondual. Anytime we “forget ourselves” (i.e., stop selfing), we have nondualistic experiences.

In nonduality the feeling is that we are “one” with everyone and everything. Not that we are a rock or a butterfly, but that we are wrapped up in a single reality. Sure, we are individual entities with our own feelings and perceptions, but we are all in this together. With this view, we don’t feel that anyone or anything is in opposition to us. After all, if there is just one all-encompassing reality, then there is no “other” to oppose.

Duality makes us seem small. We feel like a very tiny body in a gargantuan Universe. Nonduality has no sense of size. We are part of the Universe, and since we are not separate from it, there is nothing other than us to feel smaller than. Everything seems to be “here”.

Duality is the micro view. It chops up reality into pieces. It perceives individual items, such as a note in a song or a pebble on a beach. It can’t see the forest for the trees. This view is necessary for constructing, analyzing, and finding things, but it is a harsh view that is not conducive to enjoyment or peace. Nonduality is the macro view. It hears a song and sees a beach or a forest. The world is a wonderful symphony.

We started life in nonduality. We simply experienced. For example, we did not think, “That is a teddy bear.” We simply experienced the teddy bear. Eventually we developed an ego, which is a thought system that categorizes, judges, and competes. That is the basic difference between duality and nonduality: duality is a way of thinking, and nonduality is a way of being.

The ego is a functional tool that we use in order to function in the world, getting what we need and preventing other people and things from harming us. Is it possible to be nondualistic and still do these things? Certainly. Living in nonduality does not mean that we don’t go to job interviews or lock our doors or get vaccinated. It means that we do so as a matter of course, without the adversarial mindset. Everything we do is part of the one and only reality, not something we do against a separate “enemy”. Even if we’re on an actual battlefield, we can do what is necessary as a matter of course, not label other soldiers as “enemies” and hate or fear them.

If you can’t grasp nonduality right now, that’s only because you’ve spent decades in duality. Perhaps it has “worked” for you: you’ve accomplished some things and you live a fairly comfortable life. But are you at peace? Or do you find yourself fearing loss, judging others, and viewing the world as a harsh place? That’s what duality does: it pits you against the world. In nonduality it is possible to accomplish while remaining peaceful.

The Universal Disease

Most of us are afflicted with a chronic, painful disease.  It’s called thinking.  We continuously fabricate thoughts, which produce painful feelings.

Thoughts might or might not be triggered by events.  Either way, they distort reality.  For example, let’s say we get a scratch on our car.  Nothing bad happens to us: we don’t suffer any injury, and our car drives just as well as it always has.  But we might think, “I don’t want that scratch there.  My car is ruined!”  If so then we will create pain.  The scratch didn’t hurt us – we hurt us.

We don’t need to think in order to perceive reality.  We perceive a sight, a sound, a flavor, a smell, or a sensation just fine without thinking.  But often we think about them.  This can not only bring pain but also block our experience.  If we analyze a flower then we can’t enjoy its beauty.

We think so much that we equate thinking with being.  When we stop thinking for a moment, there can be the background feeling that, “Oh no, I’m not thinking, so therefore I’m not being.”  Then the thinking process starts again.

Thinking is so painful that we sometimes do things just to force thought to stop.  We drink, engage in dangerous activities, eat, play loud music, or watch television.  It provides temporary relief from thought, but doesn’t solve the problem because we start thinking again once the activity is over.  It seems that we are addicted to thinking.

It is possible to train ourselves to not think, or, more accurately, untrain the mind’s tendency to think.  This involves setting aside time to just be.  Sit, lie down, walk – whatever it takes to keep from getting distracted.  Don’t try to not think, because that is itself a thought process.  Just relax.  At first, thoughts will come uninvited, because our thinking has gained so much momentum that it will continue for a while after we stop feeding it.  Eventually, with practice, it will diminish.

Loss

The things we own can seem like weights that are tied to our hearts via ropes. They might be burdensome, but we cannot drop them because if we do then part of us will be ripped from us and we will feel miserable. This is because the false self is inherently destitute, so it needs externals in order to give itself the illusion of reality.

The false self’s sense that something or someone is part of us makes loss painful. For example, you see an expensive ring that you like. You look at it but decide not to buy it. Does not having it hurt?  Probably not. Now let’s say you buy it. A month later you lose it. That will probably hurt, because you didn’t lose “a” ring but “my” ring. The ego has lost part of its very self, and that hurts.

No loss is painful unless we made whatever we lost part of our identity.

When we find our true selves we see very clearly that we are always complete no matter what possessions or relationships we have or lose. We are immune to what the false self views as misfortune because there is no inherent sense of lack and no burning desire for anything material, so there is no fear of losing anything because it would not equate to loss of self.

Loss is always an opportunity to wake up. The greater the loss, the harder it pushes against the ego. Small losses only push a little, so they might only irritate us rather than shake us awake. A huge loss can be just what we need to wake us up to the fact that we aren’t as dependent on externals as it might seem. After all, we lost something we depended on, and we’re still here. Whatever the size of the loss, how we react determines how much we suffer and whether we wake up. If we resist, become frustrated, hate the loss, and tell ourselves that it “shouldn’t have happened”, then we will remain asleep in our egoic nightmare. If we can drop our egoic resistance, we might be able to emotionally let go of whatever we lost, and then we just might uncover the wellspring of peace and joy that needs nothing external.

Some people voluntarily lose things in order to break the emotional tie to externals. They might give away their money or possessions, or live in a tiny apartment without furniture. While asceticism can work, it depends on one’s mindset, not necessarily outer circumstances. If one still desires worldly things after giving them up, then the emotional tie is not broken. 

A good practice when losing something is to not give in to the urge to become upset, but to ask ourselves, “How big is this loss? Did I really need who/what I lost? Have I been injured?” If it is a loss of relationship we might ask, “Was that person as wonderful as I made them out to be? Do I have no other loved ones?” For loss of a possession we might ask, “Can I not afford to replace it? How much sentimental value did I place on it, and was that warranted?” For financial loss we might ask, “Can I no longer afford my lifestyle? Is there something I want to buy in the future that I now have no hope of affording?”

Loss can be a great spiritual guide, if only we will listen.

Money

We live in a society where we exchange labor for goods and services via an exchange medium called money. The more money we have, the more we can buy. We are told repeatedly that “more is better”, so we pursue money in order to buy more and better clothing, food, vacations, electronics, automobiles, and houses. Since money is a limited commodity, one person can gain only when another loses. Thus, the whole system is based on scarcity, competition, and fear. We worry that we won’t have enough money to buy what we want/need, so we toil, steal, gamble, and manipulate in order to get it.

The majority of what money can buy brings us only temporary enjoyment. A meal satiates us for a few hours. We eventually wear out or grow tired of clothing. Even a house doesn’t bring ever‑present enjoyment since we’re not home all the time. Thus, via selfing, we give up continuous well-being in order to gain temporary enjoyments. We might enjoy some nice vacations, fine food, and watching a big-screen television, but look at all the suffering we endure in between. A lifestyle consisting of less material wealth but also no selfing produces a constant state of well-being, so that “peak” experiences are not necessary. Think about it: if you could be peaceful and content all the time, whether you were taking a walk or at the grocery store or with friends or sitting in your living room, would you feel the need for a big house or a whirlwind vacation?

Because money is something that can be exchanged for almost anything, we might believe that money can “buy” us out of existential pain. This creates the mindset that more money equals less pain, and ipso facto, less money equals more pain. When we lose money, the belief that we are now less able to afford to purchase relief from existential pain causes immediate emotional pain, so it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. Meanwhile the belief we react to is false, because nothing that money can buy – possessions, vacations, gourmet meals, a new car – can solve the problem of living via the false self.  In fact, the more stuff we buy, the more we reinforce the false self. Many people get caught up in an endless cycle of buying things, feeling temporary relief, followed by pain, followed by more shopping.

Whether we work, gamble, or steal in order to acquire money, it is a failed system because even when we gain, we get at best temporary relief. Our existential problems do not disappear after we get a bonus or win a blackjack hand. If they did, we could then live happily ever after. Instead, we keep working, stealing, or gambling in order to get more money, because the money we got wasn’t “enough”.

Even lottery winners are usually no happier once the initial thrill of winning and shopping is over. Not only that, eventually most lottery winners go broke.

The bottom line: neither money nor the things it can buy will solve any existential problem.