Thoughts Arise

I saw a fleeting shadow on the floor near the window. A moment later I saw the blurred shape of a bird fly past the alfresco doors. But between these moments was a more surreal one where I doubted what I had seen. The blinds on the window were half drawn and the shadow was too fleeting, so I was unable to identify its cause. What happens if the mind stops labelling for a moment? What happens when automatic associations are relegated from the forefront of experience? I observe that a sense of mystery pervades the mind. Concepts collapse into a more singular experience and the sense of being alive becomes tangible. The passage of time resolves to a precise point; moving forward but with existence always a moment in the present. What is the utility of such mindfulness? Is it anything more than a moment of tranquility? Consider a sentient AI labelling objects in the world. Would it find it worthwhile to pause its classification and see the true nature of the world as a whole?   Photo f...

Caught in a tussle between competing wants, my attention switched to the intake of breath. As I felt the air enter my body, I realised the spontaneous nature of the moment. And in the next exhalation the thoughts that had so consumed my attention faded away. It was the most serene moment of the day; standing holding the object of my desire, aware of the mental chatter as it dissipated, leaving only the faint ripple of amusement in its wake.   Photo from www.freepik.com  

Sometimes life has the quality of a dream. This realisation can appear in a moment of detachment from what is occurring around me. Or in a state of relaxation; a pause in ever present concerns and priorities. It can appear through a shift in the perception of time; when I feel submerged in some liquid of the most gentle viscosity. But what makes life feel most like a dream is when a particularly mundane observation suddenly feels significant. The lines on the back of my hand. A mote of dust in the sunlight. These moments are so similar to that instance of realisation upon waking from a dream. In dreams the mind perceives in the absence of senses. While awake the mind incorporates the senses and perceives with more clarity. And yet there are states where that clarity too becomes suspect. When reality seems an illusion; the limited perception of an infinite world.   Photo from www.freepik.com

I am in the warmth of the kettle. In the sound of water pouring into the cup. Yet also in the rhythm of water sloshing in the dishwasher. Now in the feeling of the cold floor under my bare feet. I am the thought of my future self writing this down. I am the actor forgetting the script, hesitating in the action started a moment ago. I am in a memory brought forth by an image; standing under gum trees embracing my daughter. I am back in the present, and yet earlier in the day. In the remembered sound of her tiny voice forming an unlikely word. I am in the laugh as it forms in my chest and escapes my lips.   Photo from www.freepik.com  

Imagine empty space. This emptiness is not static; there is an energy intrinsic to space itself. An energy that is causing our universe to expand over time. So imagine space expanding over eons. It doubles in size and then doubles again and again. Exponential growth driven by a constant energy density; new space emerging and expanding at the same rate. Time passes. All stars have died, their dust dissipated, black holes have evaporated. All that remains is an ever growing emptiness filled with a dark energy. Imagine a fluctuation in this field of energy. An infinitesimal part of space begins to expand faster. But this higher energy is unstable and the field decays. A tremendous pressure is released. Energy, matter, the start of a new universe. Or the birth of ours. Fundamental particles form, then atoms and the first elements. The expansion of space is now tamed by the matter that curves its shape. Clusters of matter emerge, and from them galaxies, stars and planets. Space continues to...

I see my reflection in the mirror. The koan from last night’s meditation comes to mind. “Who am I?” “That’s me in the mirror,” comes the immediate response. But this answer seems hilariously insufficient. Does this face that I identify with so deeply, capture an iota of who I am? I have an internal world that is irreducible from me. The koan isn’t expected to invoke a rational response. But for an instant it shifts my perception. The sense of having a face and a body implies an external world. Yet this external world too must be experienced within consciousness. So where does the inner world end and the outer one begin? For a brief moment, the boundary between the two becomes permeable. It seems to be composed entirely of ephemeral sensations.   Photo from www.freepik.com

I am among the 35% of people in this world who live on more than 10 dollars a day. Among the lucky 6% who fit this criteria from my country of origin. I am one individual among the 7.5 billion who are alive today; 7% of the humans to have ever been born, living in an age of unprecedented peace and prosperity. But gratitude is an emotion that is seldom invoked by rational thought. When I believed in God, my thankfulness was directed at an entity. In awe of that towering ego, every moment of life could be felt as a blessing. And there was an intuitive grasp of the infinite that cannot be found in very large numbers. Does gratitude require a subject and an object? Or does it emerge from a momentary grasp of that concept we call infinity? When something vast eclipses our suffering. When we find release from the struggle of thought and taste the exuberant freedom of mind. Look up at the night sky. Let go of the limits you impose on your sense of self; let go of the idea that you have a head...