What Is Real?
If we ask ourselves, "What am I really?" — which is another way of asking, "Do I exist?" — what experience enables us to know we are real? Is it in the experience of the appearance and disappearance of thoughts? Are thoughts that appear and disappear the reality we are? How do we know thinking? It is by the content of thoughts; though we never actually see the start and end of a single thought, we know what we are thinking. Are we the content of thinking? Or are thoughts just metaphors for reality? Can the transient information content we call thoughts be the experience of what we really are? Can the transient information content we call thoughts know the experience of what we really are? Can thoughts know or understand, or are they simply expressions of what is known or understood? From what do they appear and disappear in our experience? If we conclude that thoughts cannot be or know the experience of what we really are, where else can we look?
Is it in the experience of the appearance and disappearance of sensations? Are we really sensations that appear and disappear? How do we know sensations? It is by the content of what is sensed within and without the body. It is impossible to be totally accurate about what is sensed because they constantly fluctuate. What is sensed is some form we recognize, perhaps as the felt sense of the body or what we perceive as sensations outside the body of colour, sound, temperature, smell, taste, and other subtle forms. Are we really what is sensed? Can sensations know or understand what we are? From what do they appear and disappear in our experience? If we conclude that sensations cannot be or know the experience of what we really are, where else can we look?
If we conclude that thoughts and sensations cannot be the reality we really are, then what experience is left other than the experience that knows or is aware of them? Is it this knowing or Awareness that is the reality we really are? How do we know this experience of knowing? If we ask ourselves if we are aware now, the answer is instantly and affirmatively – yes! We can know our experience of knowing. It is easy to be clear about this experience of knowing, even though, unlike a thought and sensation, we cannot perceive anything objective about it. Though there is no content as with thinking and sensing, and we cannot describe it adequately, we instantly know the experience of knowing it is real. Furthermore, once recognized, it is always present, never changing, and we can see no evidence of it being limited in time and space. Therefore, it must be the knowing that we really are; otherwise, how could we know thoughts and sensations, for they cannot know anything?
Can we be open to concluding that it must be this experience of knowing we call "Awareness" that can be known directly is the experience by which we know we exist and are real? While other experiences come and go, it is always present and constant and never affected by anything. It can only be this Awareness that knows thoughts, sensations, and itself. Whilst experiences of thought and sensation seem limited, this experience of Awareness we recognize ourselves to be has no boundary we can perceive. From this, can we be open to the possibility that this Awareness we are is boundless and the container of all that is perceived? After all, do we know we are not this? Can we be open to recognizing that the reality we are is the source of everything and that all that appears is an expression of it, and this reality we are is perfect and complete as it is, but for the thought that says otherwise?
Can we take our stand as this experience of this aware reality and recognize ourselves as it? What happens when we do? Do we find in this experience a trustworthy source of psychological security? Do we find that the mind rests from its endless search for something it feels is missing? Does it find peace it can rest in and trust? Can it relinquish any defensive pride or shame it may have held privately? Can it relinquish any pretence? Can it relinquish avoidant and suppressant activities that seek to try and control fear? Can it dance to a natural, authentic inner calling that feels like a deep flow of loving, courageous wisdom? Does the mind feel strong enough to face the ups and downs of life's challenges without self-recrimination? Do we desire to share this sense of fearless security with other minds and bodies, even if only a single phrase or word, to the best of our ability? Does it feel an intimacy with its environment that previously it was guarded about? Does our mind and body feel it has found the permanent, reliable home of reality amidst the ever-changing noise of the world, no matter what is happening?
Love,
Freyja
