Transcription
You know, I was thinking the other day, and uh, this is rather curious. Really, when did we all decide that life had to be so tremendously serious? I mean, honestly, have you ever stopped to wonder about that? Because nobody ever sits you down, do they, and says, "Right, from now on, everything must be approached with utmost gravity and solemnity." And yet, here we all are, walking around with these furrowed brows, carrying the weight of the world on our shoulders, as if we've been personally appointed managers of the universe.
>> [music] >>
It's quite extraordinary when you think about it. We suffer, you see, >> [music] >> we suffer magnificently. And I don't mean just a little bit of suffering here and there. No, no, no. We suffer with such dedication, such commitment, such absolute seriousness, that you'd think suffering itself was a spiritual practice we'd all signed up for. "How are you doing?" someone asks. "Oh, terribly busy, absolutely exhausted, so much to do, so much responsibility." And we say this almost proudly, as if it's a badge of honor.
Now, let me tell you a little story. I once knew a man who spent his entire life worrying about whether he was living correctly. Every decision, every action, every thought had to be examined, analyzed, justified. "Am I doing this right? Should I be feeling this way? Is this the proper response to have?" He turned his life into an examination, you see, >> [music] >> a test he was constantly taking and never quite passing. And the funny thing was, he had this idea >> [music] >> that somewhere at the end of all this testing and trying, there would be a moment where everything would click into place, and he could finally relax. Finally, just >> [music] >> be. But that moment never came, of course, because how could it? The harder he tried to reach it, the further away it got. It's like trying to catch your own shadow. The faster you run toward it, the faster it runs away from you.
And this, my friends, is what I want to talk about today. This [music] peculiar [snorts] predicament we've gotten ourselves into. This assumption, never questioned, that life is fundamentally a problem that requires solving. That we are broken things in need of fixing. That existence itself requires our constant management, improvement, and control. But what if, and just consider this for a moment, what if that assumption is the problem? What if all this struggling and striving and attempting to figure everything out is rather like, oh, how shall I put it? >> [music] >> Rather like trying to bite your own teeth. Or like trying to look directly into your own eyes without using a mirror. You see what I mean? It's a logical impossibility >> [music] >> dressed up as a spiritual goal.
So, let's look at this, shall we? Let's really examine how we got into this mess in the first place. Because it's important to understand, you see, that this isn't natural. Children don't start out this way. Have you ever watched a small child? Really watch them. They're not walking around thinking, "Am I being a good enough child? Am I playing correctly? Should I be laughing differently?" No. They're just there, fully present, utterly absorbed in whatever they're doing. But then something happens. We start educating them. Now, I'm not against education, understand me. But what happens is we begin to condition this spontaneity out of them. We teach them that there are right ways and wrong ways to do things. Proper ways to behave. Correct answers to give. Appropriate feelings to have. And underneath all of this teaching, running through it like a hidden current, is this message: as you are, you are not quite right. You need improvement. You need fixing.
I remember when I was teaching years ago, and I would see this happen to students. They'd come in fresh, curious, full of questions, and gradually you could watch it happen, this transformation. They'd stop asking questions and start worrying about answers, stop exploring and start performing, stop being present and start calculating how to appear intelligent, competent, [music] successful. The educational system does this beautifully, you see. It turns life into a series of tests. There's always another level to reach, another qualification to achieve, another standard to meet. And so we develop this relationship with existence as though we're climbing a mountain that never ends. Each peak we reach reveals another peak beyond it. And we think, ah, well, once I get to that peak, then I'll be able to rest, then I'll be happy, then everything will make sense.
But you see, the problem goes deeper than just education. It's rooted in something much more fundamental, >> [music] >> and that's fear. Fear of uncertainty, fear of not knowing, fear of being out of control. We cannot stand it, you see. We cannot bear this feeling that things might not go according to plan, that life might be fundamentally unpredictable, that we might not be in charge after all. And so we develop the ego, this sense of being a separate individual, a little creature locked inside our skin, peering out through our eyes at a world that is fundamentally other than us, foreign, potentially hostile. And this little creature, this ego, must constantly protect itself, must plan and strategize and manipulate circumstances to ensure its survival and happiness and success.
Now, the ego is terribly clever. It's rather like a con artist, really. It creates this whole story about who you are and what you need and what you must do to be safe and happy. And we believe it completely. We never question [music] it. "I am this person in here and I must protect myself from everything out there." The ego tells us that security lies in control. That peace will come once we finally arrange all the pieces of our life just so. Once we've accumulated enough money, enough status, enough love, enough something. Then we'll be okay. >> [music] >> Then we can relax. But can you see the trap? The ego itself is creating the insecurity it claims to be protecting you from. It draws a line between me and not me. And then spends all its time worrying about that boundary, defending it, reinforcing it. And in doing so, it perpetuates the very sense of separation that causes all the anxiety in the first place.
Let me put it another way. Imagine you're a wave on the ocean. Now, the wave might look at itself and say, "I am separate from all these other waves. I am alone. I am small and vulnerable. I must make myself bigger, stronger, more impressive than the other waves." And so the wave spends all its energy trying to be the best wave possible, never realizing that it's made of ocean. That it is ocean. That there's no actual separation between the wave and the ocean at all. The boundary is illusory. >> [music] >> We're doing the same thing, you see. We've convinced ourselves that we're separate from life, from the universe, from existence itself. And then we spend our whole lives trying to reconnect with something we never actually disconnected from in the first place.
Now, this brings us to something absolutely fascinating. And I want you to pay attention here because this is crucial. What I call the backwards law. Have you noticed this? The things you want most desperately seem to slip through your fingers like water. The harder you try to fall asleep, the more wide awake you become. The more you pursue happiness, the more miserable you feel. The more frantically you seek peace of mind, >> [music] >> the more agitated you get. This isn't an accident, you see? This isn't the universe being cruel or playing tricks on you. This is revealing something profound about the nature of experience itself.
When you try to achieve peace, think about what you're doing. You're implying, first of all, that you don't have peace. That peace is something out there in the future that you need to acquire. And that very thought, that very assumption, creates a split, a gap between where you are and where you think you should be. And that gap, my friends, that's the agitation. That's the problem. It's like, okay, let me give you an example. Someone tells you to relax. Just relax, they say. And what do you do? You tense up trying to relax. You become anxious about being anxious. You're fighting with yourself. >> [music] >> And in any fight with yourself, who exactly is supposed to win? You see the absurdity of it? One hand is trying to force the other hand to let go. But the harder the first hand grabs, the tighter the second hand holds on. It's a vicious circle. The attempt to solve the problem reinforces the problem.
And this applies to everything we do. Especially, oh, especially to spiritual seeking. This is really quite amusing when you think about it. People come to meditation, to yoga, to various spiritual practices, and what are they doing? >> [music] >> They're trying to achieve enlightenment. Trying to become awakened. Trying to find their true nature. Trying to reach some special state of consciousness. But, awakening from what? From the dream that you need to be awakened. The seeker is the problem. The very one who's looking for peace is disturbing the peace. The ego that wants to become enlightened is the obstacle to enlightenment.
And I said to him, "Who is it that hasn't gotten anywhere? Who is it that's tried so hard? Who is this person who wants to be enlightened?" And you could see it in his face, this moment of not quite understanding, but sensing something. Because the question itself undermines the whole enterprise. The seeker seeking enlightenment is like the eye trying to see itself. Or the knife trying to cut itself. The instrument and the object are the same thing. >> [music] >> And so the task is inherently impossible. You cannot step outside yourself to improve yourself. >> [music] >> Because there's no outside to step to. There's nowhere to stand except where you already are.
And yet we persist, don't we? Oh my, how we persist. We create entire industries around this. Self-improvement, personal growth, spiritual development. The shelves are full of books. How to be happy, how to be present, how to be free, 10 steps to enlightenment, five practices for peace. Method after method, technique after technique, all promising that if you just do this one thing, if you just follow this particular path, you'll finally reach that elusive goal of being [music] okay. But here's what I want you to see. And this is really the crux of it. The future you're striving toward doesn't exist. It's a mirage. It's an idea in your mind right now. The person you think you need to become is just a mental image. A fantasy. And the peace you are seeking, the very seeking of it is what's preventing you from noticing that it's already here. You see? [music] The pursuit creates the problem it's trying to solve. The striving generates the tension it hopes to release. The seeking sustains the sense of lack it aims to fill. >> [music] >> You're running on a treadmill going absolutely nowhere, getting exhausted in the process and wondering why you haven't reached your destination yet.
What if there's nowhere to go? What if the whole game is rather like a dog chasing its own tail? Round and round it goes, utterly convinced that if it just runs a bit faster, tries a bit harder, it will finally catch that tail. But of course, the tail moves as quickly as the dog does. The distance never closes because the seeker and the sought are one and the same.
Now, let me offer you a completely different way of looking at all of this. Instead of treating life as a problem to be solved, as an examination to be passed, what if we understood it as something more like music or dance? Think about it. When you listen to a symphony, you don't sit there thinking, "I can't wait until we get to the end so I can say I've successfully heard this piece." That would be absurd, wouldn't it? The point of music is not in the final chord. The point is in the listening. In the experience of the sound as it unfolds moment by moment. Each note has value not because it gets you closer to the end, but because it's part of the melody, the harmony, the rhythm of the whole. Or dancing. When you watch someone dance, a really good dancer, not someone who's trying to get from one side of the floor to the other, you don't applaud more loudly if they get across the stage quickly. No. No. The movement itself is the point. The dancer is not trying to arrive anywhere. They're expressing something, participating in something, being fully present in the motion itself.
Life is like this. It really is. [music] It's not a journey from birth to death where the goal is to arrive safely at the end. That would be mad. "Yay, I died. I made it." No. Life is happening right now. And the point of it is the happening itself, not some future result, not some ultimate destination or final achievement. I often think of a river. The river doesn't flow in order to reach the ocean, as if the ocean were the goal and everything before that were just preparation, just a means to an end. The river is rivering right now. >> [music] >> It's doing what rivers do, flowing, moving, changing, being exactly what it is in each moment. And when it reaches the ocean, it doesn't stop and think, "Ah, finally, I've achieved my purpose. Now I can truly begin living." The ocean is simply the next form the water takes. It's all water, you see. It's all one continuous process.
Or consider a flower. Does a rose bloom in order to prove something? Is it competing with the other roses for some award? Is it trying to become the best possible version of a rose? Or is it simply expressing its rose nature, unfolding according to its own inherent pattern without the slightest concern for whether it's doing it right or wrong, whether it's achieving its potential, whether it's living up to some standard. The flower just flowers. That's it. That's all. And in that simple flowering, without any self-consciousness, without any striving, there's a kind of perfection. Not the perfection of achieving some ideal, but the perfection of being exactly what it is.
And [music] you, you're like this, too. In your essential nature, you're like the river, like the flower, like the music. You are not here to become something other than what you already are. You're here to be what you are, to express your particular pattern, your particular way of being human, to participate in this vast play of existence without constantly stepping back to judge whether you're doing it correctly. But we've lost touch with this, haven't we? We've become disconnected from the natural, spontaneous quality of our own being. We've learned to be self-conscious. And do you know what that means? It means we've divided ourselves in two. There's the part that's living and experiencing, and then there's this other part that's constantly watching and evaluating, judging, criticizing, measuring, comparing. This observer, this inner critic, >> [music] >> this judge, it never lets us rest. It's always telling us we could be better, do better, try harder. It keeps us in a perpetual state of dissatisfaction with what is, always chasing after what should be. "You should be more successful. You should be happier. You should be further along by now. You should have figured this out already." And in doing so, it robs us of the only thing we actually have, which is this moment, this breath, this immediate experience of being alive.
When you understand life as play rather than work, >> [music] >> as music rather than examination, something shifts. The grip of seriousness loosens a bit. The desperate quality of existence begins to dissolve. You start to see that you don't need to earn your right to be here. >> [music] >> You don't need to justify your existence. You're already part of the grand performance. You're already dancing the dance. You're already singing the song. You see, you're not in the universe like a marble in a box. You're not separate from it, observing it from the outside. You're an activity of the universe, a focal point where the whole cosmos is experiencing itself. When you look out of your eyes, the universe is looking out. When you reach out your hand, the universe is reaching out. You are existence knowing itself, experiencing itself, being itself.
Now, this brings us to what people call awakening or enlightenment. And oh my, how confused this gets. People imagine that awakening is some special state they need to achieve, some altered consciousness they need to access, some peak experience they need to attain, and then they can add it to their resume, "I am now an awakened person. I have arrived." >> [music] >> But, awakening is not an achievement. Let me be very clear about this. It's not something you get. It's not a state you reach. It's not an experience you have and then hold on to. It's a recognition. It's seeing through something rather than attaining something. Uh, what are you seeing through? The illusion of separation. The story of being a separate self >> [music] >> that needs to become enlightened, that needs to find peace, that needs to figure everything out. You see, the problem is not that you're un-enlightened. >> [music] >> The problem is that you believe you're un-enlightened. You've accepted this story that you're separate from life, separate from the universe, separate from the divine, separate from reality, whatever word you want to use. And because you believe this story, you go searching, searching for unity, for connection, for awakening. But the search itself perpetuates the illusion of separation.
Let me give you another image. You're a wave on the ocean and you've forgotten you're made of water. You look around at all the other waves and you say, "I must find the ocean. I must merge with the ocean. I must become one with the ocean." And you spend your whole life seeking the ocean, never realizing that you're already ocean. You never stop being ocean for even a moment. The wave is simply a temporary pattern, a particular expression of the ocean, but its substance is ocean through and through. You are like this wave. You've never been separate from the whole of existence. That's impossible. There's nowhere else to be. You're not observing the universe from the outside. You are the universe observing itself from a particular point of view.
But the mind. Ah, the mind. The mind creates this story of separation. It draws a boundary around this body and says, "This is me and everything else is not me." And then it spends the rest of its life trying to defend this little me, trying to make this little me secure and happy and successful. [music] The mind creates the problem and then offers itself as the solution. It's quite a racket, really. "You have a problem," the mind says. "You're separate, you're alone, you're inadequate, but don't worry, I can fix you. Just follow my instructions, do what I tell you, and eventually you'll be okay." And we fall for it. We believe it completely. We never question this voice in our heads that's constantly commenting on everything, judging everything, worrying about everything.
Awakening is simply seeing through this game. It's recognizing that the separate self you've been defending and improving and worrying about is a concept, a story, a useful fiction perhaps for navigating daily life, but not an ultimate reality. It's a role you play, not what you fundamentally are. And when you see through it, when you recognize that you were never actually separate to begin with, what is there to achieve? What is there to become? Nothing was ever missing. You weren't broken and in need of fixing. >> [music] >> You weren't incomplete and in need of fulfillment. The feeling of lack, of something wrong, of needing to get somewhere or become something, all of that was part of the story of separation. And when the story is seen through, what remains? Simply this. Simply [music] now. Simply awareness itself, which has no opposite, no inside or outside, no beginning or end. You've been looking for yourself, for your true nature, for reality, and all the while you were looking with it. The eye cannot see itself except by reflection. And what you are is the seeing, not the seen. The awareness, not the objects of awareness.
So, what happens when this recognition occurs? What's it like to live without the constant burden of self-improvement and self-judgment? Well, first of all, there's this tremendous sense of relief, and I mean tremendous. It's as if you've been carrying a heavy backpack full of rocks for years and years, never questioning whether you needed to carry it, just assuming it was part of life. And suddenly you realize you can just put it down. >> [music] >> You can set it down right here, right now. The rocks were labeled with things like, "I should be different." "I need to achieve more." "I'm not good enough yet." >> [music] >> "I must figure this out." "I have to prove myself." And you've been lugging them around thinking they were essential to your survival. Essential to your identity, even.
When you drop them, when you stop judging yourself against some imaginary standard of how you should be, there's a lightness that arises. Not the lightness of irresponsibility or carelessness or not caring about anything. No, no. But the lightness of being at ease with yourself. Of accepting what is without constantly wishing it were otherwise. Of not having to defend yourself against yourself anymore. You begin to notice something quite wonderful. Life goes on. Things still happen. Challenges still arise. Difficulties still occur. But you're no longer adding that second layer of suffering on top of them. You're no longer fighting with reality, arguing with what is, resisting the present moment. You know how it usually goes. Something happens. Let's say you make a mistake at work. Okay, that's the first level. That's just what happened. But then immediately, the mind jumps in. "Oh, no. I shouldn't have done that. What will people think? >> [music] >> I'm such an idiot. Why do I always mess things up? This is going to ruin everything." And now you're not just dealing with the mistake, you're dealing with all this internal drama about the mistake.
When that drops away, when you're no longer constantly judging and evaluating and criticizing yourself, the situation is just what it is. And you respond to it naturally, appropriately, without all the internal commentary and judgment. You deal with it and move on. This doesn't mean you become passive or indifferent. Quite the opposite, actually. When you're not spending all your energy on internal conflict, on trying to be something other than what you are, you actually have more energy available for genuine response to life. You're more present, more spontaneous, more alive, more able to see what's actually needed in any given situation. You're like water, you see. Water that flows around obstacles rather than tensing up against them. Water doesn't argue with rocks. It doesn't say, "This rock shouldn't be here. This is wrong. This is an obstacle to my flow." It just flows around it, through it, over it. It adapts. It responds. But it doesn't resist.
And here's something else that happens, and this is rather delightful. You start to enjoy yourself again. Remember when you were a child and you could lose yourself completely in play? You weren't thinking about whether you were playing correctly or whether you were achieving the proper level of playfulness or whether you were having as much fun as you should be having. You were simply absorbed in the activity itself, in the pure joy of being and doing. That quality can return. Not by trying to recapture childhood. That would just be another form of striving, but by dropping the adult habit of constant self-monitoring and self-evaluation.
When you eat, you can simply enjoy the taste of the food without judging whether you're eating the right things or the right amount or whether you should be enjoying it more or less. When you talk with someone, you can be fully present in the conversation without worrying about whether you're coming across well or saying the right things or being impressive enough. When you work, you can be absorbed in the work itself without constantly checking whether you're performing adequately or whether you're getting ahead or falling behind. >> [music] >> This is freedom, you see. Not freedom from life's challenges or difficulties, not freedom from pain or uncertainty or change, but freedom from the prison of self-judgment. Freedom from the exhausting task of trying to be someone other than who you are.
And [music] you know what else? You start to see the humor in the whole situation. There's something quite funny about the human condition when you really look at it. Here we all were, taking ourselves so seriously, treating our little dramas as if they were matters of cosmic importance, worrying endlessly about what it all means and whether we're getting it right. >> [music] >> And all the while, existence was just happening. Flowers were blooming without worrying about whether they were blooming correctly. Stars were shining without concerning themselves with their performance reviews. Rivers were flowing without anxiety about their destination. Birds were singing without wondering if their song was good enough. >> [music] >> There's something quite funny about this. Not a cynical funny, not a bitter funny, but a warm, affectionate funny. A cosmic joke we've been playing on ourselves. We've been looking everywhere for something we already are. We've been trying to achieve something we already have. We've been waiting to begin living while life is already fully happening. When you see this, you can't help but laugh a little. At yourself. [music] At the whole human predicament. At the beautiful absurdity of it all.
So, where does this leave us? What do we do with all of this? Well, here's the beautiful thing, and I want you to hear this clearly. Nothing needs to change. Life will continue exactly as it has been. You will still have responsibilities, challenges, joys, sorrows. You will still need to make decisions, solve problems, navigate all the complexities of being human. Now, that inner judge, that constant evaluator that never lets you rest, that voice that's always telling you you're not quite good enough yet, that can be retired. Not by fighting with it, not by trying to get rid of it, but simply by seeing through it, by recognizing that it's just a voice, just a pattern of thought, not the truth of who you are. You don't need to improve yourself anymore.
Now, let me be clear about what I'm saying. I'm not saying you're perfect in the sense of having achieved some ideal state. I'm saying the whole project of self-improvement was based on a misunderstanding. There's no separate self to improve. There's simply this living, breathing, [music] experiencing that's happening right now. And it's already complete. It's already whole. Not because it's achieved some ideal state, but because wholeness is not a state to be achieved. It's what is, right here, right now. It's the simple fact of being, of existence itself, which doesn't need to be justified or improved or made better. This doesn't mean you stop learning or growing or developing, but the quality of it changes entirely. Instead of growing because you think you're deficient, you grow because it's natural for living things to grow. A tree doesn't improve itself. It doesn't have a self-improvement plan. It simply expresses its nature, unfolds according to its inherent pattern. And that's what you can do. Not trying to become something you're not, but simply allowing what you are to express itself naturally.
When you stop treating life as a problem, it stops being a problem. It's that simple. The moment you're no longer asking, "What's wrong?" or "What should I do?" or "Am I doing this right?" you can simply be here, fully present, fully alive, fully engaged with whatever is happening. And isn't that what you actually want? Not some future state of enlightenment or achievement, but simply to be at ease with yourself. To feel at home in your own skin. To be able to live without that constant background anxiety that something is wrong or missing or incomplete. You see, peace is not something you achieve. Peace is what's left when you stop disturbing yourself. Happiness is not something you pursue. Happiness is what's already here when you stop insisting that things should be different than they are. Freedom is not some special state you attain. Freedom is recognizing that you were never actually bound, that the prison was made of thought, of belief, of the stories you told yourself about who you are and what life means.
None of this needs to be taken seriously. In fact, [music] taking it seriously would be missing the point entirely. Life is not serious. Death is not serious. Even awakening is not serious. It's all part of the play, the dance, the music of existence. And you're invited not to figure it out, not to get it right, but simply to participate, to be present, to allow yourself to be moved by the rhythm of life itself. So, perhaps we can let go of this notion that we need to understand everything. That we need to have it all figured out, that we need to reach some final destination where everything makes sense and we can finally relax.