Friday, February 15, 2019

Noticing existence

Finally, a post on practice instead of philosophy. I need to do more of the former and less of the latter right now.

One instruction for practice might go something like this: simply notice existence.

This is a tricky instruction for a few reasons. First, what is "existence"? And second, who is noticing it?

The first place my mind goes is to the world's existence. "Yes, the universe exists. So what?" But that isn't what we're looking for. One useful tip is to consider: what if the world is a simulation or dream? I can't know that it exists. So it's not the world's existence that I should be noticing.

Next, I might ponder my own existence. But again, all the details I think of as "me" may not really exist. My body, thoughts, and memories might also be simulated.

As you eliminate possibilities, you find yourself working your way back toward that which is asking itself to notice existence. It's hard to pinpoint that thing, but it clearly exists. It's easy to confuse it with the thoughts it is producing. In fact, even to call it a "thing" or "it" is misleading. It's somehow sitting "behind" all the things that it can point at.

It is trying to point a finger back at itself, but it always comes up short. It always ends up pointing at something or another: this thought; that sensation. This becomes frustrating, as it (you) forgets what it's supposed to be looking for. Maybe at some point it gives up.

If you don't walk away from the practice at this point, something interesting can happen. You simply notice that "the light is on." Instead of noticing any of the particulars of experience, you notice the simple fact that you are experiencing. Your entire field of experience is lit up, quite unlike if you were dead.

You cannot stop experiencing, even if you wanted to. The whole field is just there, shining brightly. Even if you close your eyes and plug your ears (which is actually very useful here), you will find that the shine continues. Nothing in particular is shining, but somehow a light is still on. You're not dead, are you?

At some point you may begin to sense that it is not you noticing this light; the light is noticing itself. In fact, noticing is not something this light does; it is what the light is. There's nothing for you to do, and there's nothing for it to do. Its mere existence is enough.

The hard part of this practice is the "so what?" that can arise. The mind starts chattering, looking for the significance of this most obvious fact. The suggestion given here is to not listen to the mind's tricks. Just rest and allow the light to shine.