Real-World Nonduality

by Greg Goode

  Triangulations seemed to be everywhere. I imagined complex networks of triangulated ideas and triangles within triangles. It was tantalizing, and it felt like I was making, or was on the edge of making, major progress in explaining objectivity. I thought I might be on the way to explaining the origins of space and time in my experience. This, unsurprisingly, had the whiff of pomposity once again. So I inspected triangulation itself.

  As a model for explaining the origin of objects, triangulation doesn’t stand. And it falls for two main reasons:

  All the objects or arisings, whatever their nature, can be seen as awareness through the investigations organized within the direct path. For example, remove awareness from one’s knowing an object: what remains? Add something that is not awareness to one’s knowing of an object: what changes? Nothing on both counts.

  The idea of triangulation can be shown to lack coherency in principle because: a) We cannot in our immediate direct experience know more than one thing at a time. Any declaration that asserts that we can do so, becomes itself what is known. Thus we can never actually see the “triangle” so conceived (we cannot see all three points) as a whole in itself. Such would surely be the most basic and minimum requirement of the triangulation model. For example, when I listen to music or gaze over a landscape, experience is whole. It is only a thought that purports to carve up experience into pieces and then another thought that tries to relate the pieces to each other.

  b) In the triangulation model or context, each corner represents an object and each side represents a relationship. All sides are dependent on corners and all corners are dependent on sides: no single object can ever be confirmed independently.

  c) The very idea that we can even make connections between vertices implies the context of planar geometry such that triangulation is a context within a context, thus its ability to explain objectivity as fundamental is questionable.

  For me this incoherency is illustrated beautifully in many of the works of M. C. Escher and, in its simplest form, the Penrose Triangle. Originally created by Oscar Reutersvärd in 1934, it was popularized in the 1950s by father and son Lionel and Roger Penrose, who described it as “impossibility in its purest form.”

  The Penrose Triangle As a whole the lines themselves create an interesting and pleasing view. But when we try to interpret them in terms of a coherent structure—that is to say, to put them in a 3-D context rather than just a pleasing view—something interesting happens. Individually each corner makes sense in it own local 3-D context, but as a whole, the triangle fails to make sense as a 3-D frame.

  As noted above, in addition to the absence of independent objects (corners), the context is never observed. It is not an arising in direct experience. Rather, it is an idea that is extracted from the objects and their relationships; a bit like the urge to find a pattern within the dots on a page. Context makes sense of objects and their relationships, and related objects give rise to context. Independent confirmation of either objects or context is not possible, even in principle.55

  The Penrose Triangle seems to me a good metaphor for how the objectivist view of reality lacks coherence. In our day-to-day lives we seem to get along with conventional objects because we take the context of objectivity as a given and skip nimbly from one object to another, assuming that what we see is real and assuming that we can know several real things at any one time. We can’t, and we don’t. Whatever experience is, it is whole, which is to say, coherent.

  Deposits

  I found the direct path in midlife, having modestly and quietly followed various flocks of wild geese over landscapes of environmentalism, various forms of Christianity, self-help, TM, New Age, Yoga, and Buddhism. And it took me a surprisingly long time with the direct path to realize that I had pitched-up with a very strong realist outlook and that I continued to cherish the notion of finding out for sure The Way Things Really Are.

  Medical science is deeply invested in the reality of the body and its mechanisms; for the science of psychology the same might be said of mind. Geology is a deeply synthesizing science seeking to establish coherency within, and relationships between, complex three-dimensional expressions of soils and rock strata within a highly conceptualized understanding of time. As a geologist, the concrete reality of the spatial and temporal distributions of matter was deeply ingrained, objectively real and packed a huge punch of reality effect.

  My wrestling with the idea of objects at a distance as described above reveals an ingrained and habitual desire to find the answer: separation seems to be real—but how?

  The notions of triangulation, reality effect, and gestalt prompted by Berkeley and developed in the direct path were key ideas among a few others that, in retrospect, I needed to explore in order to reveal the tangled birds nest of assumptions of my worldview. Gradually these ideas led me to those places where I began to hear the message of non-separation contained in the direct-pointing teachings—teachings that work instantaneously for some people.

  The chalk cliffs of southern England are gradually and evenly collapsing. The entire coast recedes in a more or less straight line, each collapse revealing fresh rock, while continual undercutting by the sea produces multiple small cliff falls. Occasionally large and dramatic cliff failures occur, but few people ever witness the drama. My enquiry with the direct path has mimicked this process, appearing as a series of insights or aha! moments. Each seemed like a breakthrough, but in time was released completely, in much the same way as a pile of collapsed chalk on the foreshore is quickly and totally dispersed by the sea in its gradual advance landwards.

  In coming to better understand the flimsiness of objects and relationships and the convenience of objectivity, and knowing the saturating wholeness of experience, I realized that much of my enquiry had been probing the ontology of illusion. It wasn’t a waste of time and effort—I needed to do it this way. It showed that my explanation of the illusion of objectivity, which was the fruit of fairly intense enquiry, was itself an object, with the same status as all the rest.

  Whether understood as the products of perceptual triangulation or whatever, objects can still have meaning as things of beauty and utility and lots more besides, but we don’t have to believe that they are fundamentally existent as separate entities. And if they aren’t fundamentally separate or even extant…then are we?

  What this enquiry revealed was there is no answer to the question, “What is the way things really are?” Objects, in the broadest sense, are not what we thought them to be, and the “way that they really are” is just another object.

  At the foot of the Seven Sisters I sensed a kind of joyful awe of being merged whole with the environment; amongst the myriad of connections and ramifications, objectivity had loosened its grip. I have never felt the need to explain this. There is rarely a need to explain joy and happiness.

  William Blake was right: as a man is, so he sees. But this insight and his communication of it conveyed more than mere accuracy; it spoke of connection and kindness.

  Acknowledgements

  My great thanks go to Greg Goode for his generous and enthusiastic elucidation of the direct path and for taking care and pains with my many questions over the years. Similarly, a big thank-you to Rupert Spira, who answered skilfully and wisely responded to great strings of questions from me at meetings. Friends and members of the Direct Path Facebook Group have been and continue to be much appreciated. I’d like to gratefully acknowledge my friend Mandi Solk, who was the first to suggest to me that thinking has a felt component in the body, and deep thanks go to Rob Matthews, who introduced me to the idea of the felt sense in the body and helped me to develop the sensitivity to better come to know it.

  If we declare that there’s only One

  Three at least must be

  Therefore it is said

  Not Two

  Epilogue

  Over a year since writing this es
say, have I had any new insights and has my perspective changed? What has struck home and what have I internalised?

  I seem to experience a settling in, a grounding, and an openheartedness. I do still find myself looking for explanations, but it’s more of a habit than a purposeful search.

  Along the way I have learned about my own voices and the ways in which I think—it has been a fascinating trip. All that I am in objective terms, is characterised in relation to other things: and all things are defined in relation to “me”, but objectivity itself is not what it seems.

  The most profound and lasting (so far) effect is that I seem to have internalised this: ANY and ALL objects we think we know as separate things, including the reflex to search for explanations, exist without foundation. They are effectively called into existence: called and caller co-create. What is seen and what is heard depends on the voices of the caller; and the caller’s vocal chords are fashioned by experience.

  This co-dependency has similarities with emptiness teachings or what has also been called “non-reductive nonduality”. Several years ago, on the advice of both Greg Goode and Rupert Spira, I steered my enquiries more towards the Direct Path and away from the Emptiness teachings. However, the gentle dissolution of objectivity has revealed in some strange way (to me at least), a kind of rapport between these two approaches. If I was to attempt a summary characterisation of their friendship:

  Awareness teaches no relationships (because there are no real objects)

  Emptiness teaches only relationships (because there are no real objects)

  I am still interested in the ideas of triangles, relationships, trinities and triangulation despite, or even because of, the flaws noted in the essay. I also still notice also the reflex to seek explanations, but it doesn’t seem to be so very critical and urgent. I’m happy enough as an impossible triangle!

  “If triangles made a God, they would give him three sides.” 56

  51 Letter from William Blake to Reverend John Trusler, 23 August 1799 52 Berkeley, T (1734) A Treatise on the Principles of Human Knowledge, Hackett Publishing (Winkler, K. ed, 1982) 53 Berkeley, G. (1713) Three Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous. 54 For the avoidance of doubt herein I am using the definition that sensations = sense perceptions of the objects of the world; feelings = sense perceptions in the body, e.g. kinaesthetic, sensorimotors proprioceptive, pain, pressure and so forth; emotions = combination of feelings + thoughts. 55 Berkeley in his Essay “De Motu” followed similar reasoning in taking Newton to task over the latter’s idea of absolute space, which was a necessary requirement for his mechanics. Berkeley held that absolute space is an abstract concept with no physical reality. In the terms developed here absolute space = pure context without objects. 56 “Si les triangles faisaient un dieu, ils lui donneraient trois côtés.” Charles de Montesquieu (1721) Lettres Persanes (Persian Letters) Lettre LIX

  Any Day Now I Shall Be Released:

  On Not Being “Finished” on the Direct Path

  by Stephen Joseph

  “ Using direct-path inquiry to examine the feeling of inadequacy, we can see that it […] is engendered by a sense of lack, but in this case the lack is in terms of objective standards that aren’t being met. It derives its power from a belief in a sort of golden yardstick against which I can be measured. I can find all sorts of ordinary yardsticks to measure this body and mind against within awareness, but they are all conditioned and dependent. When it comes to applying a standard to my existence, especially when I take my stand as awareness, no such measure can be found. I have reaped emotional benefits from this realization, as measures against which I have fallen short my entire life have

  been seen through and dissolved.”

  Finding the finish-line

  I’m not finished on the direct path. I have not become enlightened, pierced the veil, self-realized, dropped false identification, or achieved moksha, nirvana, or paradise. I have had glimpses, of various durations, that have revealed what I’m looking for, but they have stayed glimpses. It’s as if I were flying to London and watching a travelogue about London on the plane, so I know it exists. I can even see it from my window. But the plane doesn’t land.

  This has been frustrating, but for me, the direct path continues to be inviting and seductive. Years of reading, inquiring, and conversing have not led to a complete breakthrough, but they have given me the faith that the remedy to the obstructions I encounter could well lie in the direct-path teachings themselves. My aim is that those who feel a similar frustration will find in this essay a companion in using the direct path to address those feelings thoroughly and honestly, and to discover what they might mean and also the blocks that might be giving rise to them.

  What does being finished mean?

  Every spiritual path, including nondual ones, generates an idea of being “finished” from its own perspective. Naturally there will be disagreements between paths about what being finished means. Followers within a path also disagree about what happens (or doesn’t happen) after the path is completed. Is life problem-free? Are you the master of any situation? Can you enlighten others with a touch? Can you see through solid walls?

  Just as a starving diner is more interested in the main course than in dessert, I’m not concerned here with the question of life after finishing. My definition of finishing the direct path is a permanent shift in perspective so that the world is no longer seen as a collection of separate physical objects existing apart from awareness, and exclusive identification with one’s body and mind comes to an end. The best analogy I’ve heard to illustrate the permanence of this shift is that of a child who discovers that there is no Santa Claus. Contrary to popular Christmas movies, adults don’t go back to believing in a literal Santa Claus.

  I’ve been following direct-path teachings for about 10 years. I’ve read, met with teachers, watched videos, and done a great deal of intense questioning and pondering. I have been interested in spirituality since I was in my teens. Early flirtations with Judaism, the Baha’i Faith, and Zen gave way to other paths and teachers, most notably Douglas Harding57 and

  J. Krishnamurti. What I was hoping for as an end-point for those paths was not very clear to me at the time.

  Looking back, I think it was equal parts wanting to see how things really are (if the way a bee sees an orange and the way I see it are different, which one is real?) and wanting to be seen as a sage, a teacher, one who knows. I care much less now about how I’m seen by others, possibly a side-effect of direct-path studies, possibly a side-effect of aging. I still enjoy sincere compliments (I didn’t run them through that sincerity filter as I do now, but just took all I could get), but being on the receiving end of slights and indifference fails to affect me as it once did (but enough about family reunions!).

  Periods of clarity

  What I’ll call periods of clarity have helped to keep me going on this path. They are the convivial inns along the way. When the clarity can be measured in just moments I can feel mental activity shutting down as I stare at the beauty of a random pile of litter, its simple is-ness revealed and shining, moving me emotionally for no describable reason. During minutes of clarity I’ve had a difficult discussion with a coworker become peaceful as resistance to him evaporates and non-defensive responses just emerge from me. When the clarity is measured in hours, a trip from the U.S. to Italy becomes almost stress-free. Airports, people, airplane interiors, more people, more airports successively pass through me while I, as awareness, remain absolutely immobile, never budging an inch. The usual worries and concerns of overseas travel arise and depart, never gaining a foothold. I suspect that being finished will mean no longer being able to measure this clarity with a watch or

  calendar.

  Roadblocks

  And I still have the motive of wanting to see how things really are. I wish I could say that the direct-path approach has sunk in enough that I know this is an impossible des
ire. I can repeat that there is no God’s-eye view, no place to stand without a specific perspective in order to get a look at an external reality, and no external reality in any case. But I know that the idea of an external reality still has a hold on me. I’ve come close enough to dismissing it to feel a vertiginous thrill, a scary freedom, but, in the end, my solid feet come to rest on a solid floor, which rests on a solid earth, and then it’s turtles all the way down.

  With the help of teachers and writings, I’ve examined what seem to be the blocks that are standing between me and finishing. I have picked up some pointers that I think are promising, and that I’m still working on. Most of what follows is what I use to keep myself inquiring. For this essay I will focus on some particular blocks that are generally right at hand—distracting feelings.

  Feelings

  Realizing that I still haven’t rid myself of this belief in an objective physical reality brings about a constellation of turbulent emotions: frustration, fear, inadequacy, and doubt. These have become my four beloved companions on the path (they must be beloved because I’ve kept them around so long). I will examine these feelings here for two reasons: to uncover the false assumptions they hide about what being finished with the direct path means; and to show how a direct-path investigation of these feelings can dissolve their power over us.