It really was just one look; it took only a few seconds, and the whole search was over. I saw the search for clarity, the quest of Who am I?, as a cosmic joke.
There is no “who.” There is “am,” but no “I.” Just “being,” a verb. There is no doer of am-ness. There is nothing here in direct experience that is separate from experienced. Just this. Always now.
If you want to test this, simply do this little experiment that won’t take much of your time. All you need is twenty minutes, a pen, and paper.
Try This for Yourself First, write what you are experiencing right now using the words “I,” “me,” and “my.” Get right to the point: don’t write about past or future fantasy, just a plain description of here and now.
Like this:
I am lying in bed. I am hearing the rain. I am typing these words. I am feeling cold. I hear the cat’s footsteps.
Do this for a full ten minutes. Watch the body. Are there any sensations of tightening or relaxing? Write out all that is happening within these ten minutes in a most descriptive way. Focus on what is happening around you—sounds, sensations, visual experiences—rather than the thinking process.
Then, for the next ten minutes, write without the words “I,” “me,” and “my.” Just describe the experience as it is happening using verbs alone.
Like this:
Waiting for next thought, typing, breathing, blinking. Hearing the rain. Waiting for the next thought. Hearing birds singing.
Again, watch what is happening in the body. Don’t just rewrite what you wrote in the first part, rather focus on the here and now and describe what arises as it arises, keeping it always fresh.
Now compare the two ways of labeling the experience. Is one truer than the other? If so, which one? What is here without labels? Do labels affect the experience or just describe it? How did the body react? Which way of describing felt more natural, more relaxing?
Have a look. Does a description affect how you feel about what is described? Can you see that thoughts describe and create a story at the same time? Can you see that the word “I” is part of description and not as important as it seems?
Having done the exercise, can you see that “I” is a label and not an experiencer nor a thinker, not a doer nor hearer of rain? “I” is not what makes the eyes blink, and it is not a breather; it’s a word used for the convenience of communication that refers to the speaker when she speaks about herself. If the “I” is believed to be an entity, the mind is confused, and the body tenses up. It is so simple. Bring attention back to now and look once again. Is there a me behind the word “me”? If so, where is it?
Life is happening. Looking is happening. Getting lost in the story is happening—with or without the word “I.” The self is not needed for frustration to arise, nor for happy, joyful feelings. It all flows freely, as a response to a situation. Do we really need to be enslaved by labels? After all, experience is what labels point to. Labels do not own experience. The word “experience” is a label too.
And so the story goes on. Belief in the truthfulness of a story drops away. The story is way more enjoyable without the fear that something can happen to this “me.” Once it’s clearly seen that there is no actual me, there is no place for the story to stick. Whatever happens feels okay. Even being miserable. Confidence, grace, fearlessness, and peace with what is start to shine through as fear is loosened.
In a way it is funny! Imagine that! Humans got screwed by labels. Look at the world of fashion; labels are so important! So much emotional pain, such strong desire to get home, when home is all there is. Right here—underneath all the labels. Home is here, now, waiting to be recognized.
The Story and the Narrator
Being a human is somewhat like visiting an amusement park of life stories. Humans love stories; they find them to be a great source of entertainment. Look at the industries of movies, books, news, and gossip. Everyone loves a good, juicy story. And the best story is this exclusive story of [insert your name here]’s life being told. How fascinating.
We spend every minute thinking. Thoughts come as flashing images and sound like a never-ending commentary, describing, judging, evaluating, and analyzing what is going on. There is so much going on! In the story, the past, the present, and the future are all happening right now. There are so many associations, and so many emotions get stirred up. It’s madness. And there are different voices, too—good and bad, wise and stupid. And they talk to each other and pretend to be different characters, replaying events and creating scenarios. A whole zoo.
Try This for Yourself For just a minute, tell the voice in the head to be quiet, and see what happens.
The Stories in Our Head
The biggest part of everyday thinking is made up of stories about what is not happening here and now. The focus seems to stay on what is happening in the head, as this narrative appears to be the most important part of experience; it’s composed of imaginary what-if scenarios, replays of arguments, daydreaming, remembering, planning, and looking for problems and possible solutions.
It’s okay when the story is good. For some, for a short, quiet time the story is peaceful and exciting, blissful and great. But for many people, the stories are mainly about what is lacking: I wanted this, but I’m not getting it, with a hidden story underneath of not being good enough, or not enough. There are persistent stories about what is wrong with them, how it makes them feel, what needs to be fixed or avoided. The I Virus runs many different programs that filter information and determine what fits and what does not fit the current image of how things should be. Thinking is a constant game of find and fix a problem, and if you cannot find one, create one. It’s a constant battle with reality. Struggle is at the forefront much more often than peace. Stories are patterns of thinking.
“I am not good enough” is a typical story; it’s one of the main stories of human suffering.
I am not good enough.
It’s a sad story about guilt—guilt for being yourself. As if being yourself is not enough! Can you see that the sense of being is here with or without the story?
It really is a joke—that story is only a pattern of thinking, a habitual thought, a verbal program that runs in the head. Do you ever stop and take a look to see if a thought is true? No, of course not, because thinking is so ingrained and familiar that it seems to be true. It’s “truth” is confirmed by experience, and it does not even cross the mind to ever question whether what you think is true or not!
What Happens When You Simply Look?
Once you start looking at thinking really closely, a realization pops up into view: the story is made up of thoughts about thoughts about thoughts. It’s thoughts all the way through.
What is it that is telling the story? Are you in control of what is being told? If not, then what is this voice in the head? What is it talking to and what is it that is listening? All that we hear is what it is talking about! Are you the one that talks or listens? Are you the owner of the voice? Are you the thinker of thoughts? Is the “I” the thinker or is it a thought? Where is the narrator? Narrator, hello-o-o! Who’s there? Anyone?
Try This for Yourself Just for fun, or for curiosity’s sake, ask that voice what it is and see what it says.
Zoom in the focus on the commentator, and wait for the comments.
If the voice suddenly shuts up, notice the silence.
This silence is not the absence of an answer. Its message is simple: there is no one here. There is nothing fixed or solid there. Thoughts arise and pass away and happen to no one.
What a shocker! It’s funny and may even be a bit disappointing—and here you have another story already started in your head, but now it’s a story about the silence…and the story is never ending. Story is like a ride in an amusement park without a get-off-the-ride button.
You see, there is no one behind the word “I.” This word points at nothing other than a direction of what the story is about while communicating. (The story is about me an
d not Suzy, or Batman.)
The story is telling itself, and that’s how it has always been. And when you take a look at that story with full attention and curiosity, it reveals what it is made of and how it’s happening. This revealing is inevitable. It’s the important part of the story, too.
Consider this: every story has a beginning, middle, and end. And the story is playing out, like programs, like spring-summer-autumn; there are patterns and seasons. Whatever story is playing out, the structure is the same. There’s no skipping of parts. Time is an essential part of the structure or, should I say, an inevitable side effect.
If I look for a character, I see that there is this story about the life of Ilona: from birth to now, the biography of the character that tells which school I went to and what my classmates’ names were and the year I graduated from university; then, that I moved to England and met these people, and that yesterday I saw a clown. There is this kind of neutral, innocent narration of events. This and that happened, with no emotions attached; the story is just the telling of events.
The story would be great if not for the sad narrator, who reminds you that you are not good enough, who reminds you of past mistakes. The judgmental comments create tension in the body and build craziness in the head. When the story becomes invested with emotion, thoughts trigger feelings, feelings get labeled and described. This creates more story, more feeling. This process is a self-supporting feedback loop. In other words, you get lost in the story.
Sometimes the story told by the narrator is about being great, being the most amazing and special person, one who has achieved so much, is victorious and so much better than others. These stories feed the ego, making one appear at the top, better and smarter than those undeserving others. It’s a story of ownership, of specialness, of grandiose self-image that appears somehow precious and needs to be protected and sustained.
The commentary is just like a radio, but there is no choice of channels. You wish you could surf channels, because then your life would be great: all positive, fun, peaceful, and lovely. But you have only one channel, and it’s telling the same old stories over and over again.
Imagine if you had only one TV channel, and you never switched the TV off. After a while there would be nothing interesting on; it would be the same old, same old, and the ads would drive you crazy. You’d try to ignore them and deny what is going on, or you’d talk back to the TV, but it would never occur to you that you could switch the TV off. You can, and you can also switch off the judge in the local radio station called “My Head.”
The thing is, there is much more going on than just this one radio station. There is life happening—with and without the story, with and without the mental judge in the head. But since you are so absorbed in “my story,” you miss what is right in front of your nose: There is no owner of the story. It simply is telling itself. There is no narrator at home.
And here comes that special thought: Me. But what about me? I am here!
This thought is like a bug in a computer program, the I Virus appearing as an entity, “me,” who seems to be real.
So this me is believed to be most precious, a most carefully guarded thought, from which all thinking and doing happens. But thoughts cannot think; they cannot do anything other than appear and disappear. A thought is a tiny unit of information. Me is a thought, a thought pointing to other thoughts and images about a me. Where is me now? Don’t just say, “There must be someone here!” Take a look and see what is true in experience, right here, right now.
Picture this: “Me” as a label on a box that contains all that is connected to the story of me, which is made up of feelings, memories, dreams, desires, fears, goals, and so on. Picture the big golden letters “ME.” Looks good but…it’s a mere tag. It’s not an owner of content, not the manager of what happens in that content, not an entity; it’s simply a concept, a name, an agreement to label these processes in one word: “me.”
Can you see that humans spend their entire lives trying to improve and protect that “me”?
Try This for Yourself Can comments be stopped at will?
Do you notice judgmental thoughts running?
Try to shut the judge up. Gag it if needed. Tell it to shut up. How long does that last? Test it for the fun of exploration.
Write down what feels true to you.
The sure way to see what is happening is to look closer at the mechanism of story in a spirit of curiosity.
How does story become so sticky?
Does it stick to the narrator?
What is the glue made of?
What drives it?
How do you step out of it?
I would say that the story becomes sticky when it is invested with emotion. The glue is made of belief. And the story is driven by emotion. Where the focus goes, story follows. But when focus goes onto the sensations, when the focus goes away from the head and into feeling and raw experiencing, release happens. Less story is being woven.
Stepping in and out of story is part of the dance of life. All is included.
Try This for Yourself Here is another great question to ask when the story becomes too much: Is it true?
Is it true that a “me” exists? Is it true that there is no “I”?
Test it. Is it true that the story goes on by itself?
Employ this question often—use it!
There is a common assumption that seeing through illusion means that one does not get lost in the story ever again. If you continue to get lost in the story, then it may be time to take a careful look at why and how that’s happening. But we do not need to get rid of the story. We merely need to see it as a fiction, not as true or imagined. The story is happening, yes; the content of the story is a story, not reality. All is not as it seems.
Ask yourself: Is it true that life goes on with or without the story? Are sounds and colors here if they don’t have labels?
The story is part of life; it’s a reflection of beliefs about life. Unquestioned assumptions play a crucial role in where and how the story goes.
Or so it seems.
Lakshmi
The following conversation with Lakshmi took place over several months. She wrote to me after reading my blog and was already investigating by herself. She was longing for joy of life and searching for happiness, just like many others. She was curious and did not sound desperate; the process of corresponding with her was light and seemed easy. When she realized the simplicity, and saw that no one owns feelings, she relaxed, and the search was over. Just like that. It was a pleasure to meet her and be able to assist.
Lakshmi: Hello, dear Ilona, I am Lakshmi from Hyderabad, India. I have been going through the articles in your blog for quite some time. I am also looking but maybe not deep, not sure!
Can you please guide and help me for the shift? Regards, Lakshmi.
Ilona: Hi Lakshmi. Thank you for your e-mail. Yes, we can have a conversation. Tell me a bit about your journey and where you are at the moment.
What are you looking for?
What do you expect from this process?
What do you think this will give you?
Take your time writing down all your expectations, and find those hidden ones too. Honesty is the key here. Looking forward to hearing from you. Kind regards.
Lakshmi: Hi Ilona. As I said earlier, ever since I was introduced to this technique, I have been trying to look at things around and yes, I could never find a separate “I” existing. It’s always a thought. I am at this stage. I am able to appreciate the labeling that the mind does all the time. I am looking for “I” still, and expecting that I should feel light and easy sometimes. Maybe I am not looking enough, so not feeling it right away.
My expectations from this process are that I should be able to enjoy life, should be able to say that life is beautiful, as many realized people say it is after they got awakened to this truth of life. To be in the happy state irrespective of ongoing life. I have a habit of reacting to everything around, so I
silently keep expecting this quality of mine to change after this process. I hope I spoke with honesty. Thanks and many regards.
Ilona: Hi Lakshmi. Thank you for your honest answer.
I am looking for “I” still, expecting that I should feel light and easy sometimes. Maybe I am not looking enough, so not feeling it right away.
What is it that you find when looking for “I”?
What is the first I in your sentence looking for “I”? What is it that you find when looking for “I”?
My expectations from this process are that I should be able to enjoy life, should be able to say that life is beautiful, as many realized people say it is after they got awakened to this truth of life.
That’s all right.
To be in the happy state irrespective of ongoing life.
This is not realistic. There is no happily ever after. Life goes on as it does and things happen. It’s not about a happy state at all. It’s about seeing what is here now, already obvious. If you expect that seeing no self is going to give you eternal bliss, it’s just a fantasy.
I have a habit of reacting to everything around, so I silently keep expecting this quality of mine to change after this process.
Reactions happen when buttons are pressed. While there are wounds, unresolved issues, and repressed feelings, of course, reactions will happen.
Before we go further, I’ll ask you to leave all expectations behind. It is not what you expect at all. The mind can never imagine this. Having expectations is like trying to fit what is being seen into the frame of what it should look like. It’s like looking at a picture of a square and imagining that you see a circle because it fits a current level of understanding.
Liberation Unleashed Page 7