A few days ago, about mid-evening, there was a moment in my meditation where I completely disappeared. It scared me, actually. Perhaps it was a few minutes even; it was only as I brought myself back that I realized I had been gone. Completely vacuous, no memory, thought, nothing. It wasn't apnea, or a moment of sleep either. All I could think was I hope this is not the beginning of Alzheimers! Or was that an experience of true egolessness... scary because no sense of self at all, or of individuality.
Everything that I am was completely gone in those few minutes, and even the consciousness that tracks experience was absent.
As I re-entered my life, I realized I'd been nowhere.
I've barely meditated the last few days, only doing 15-20 of loving-kindness, not sure if I want to disappear in that way again.
Some thoughts from Will of ThinkBuddha blog on his recent retreat with two of my favourite teachers: http://tinyurl.com/g4g77
It's about working with a zen koan, but, for me anyway, this is where buddhist enquiry meets meditation and some of what he says is certainly germane to my thoughts and those of others here on our meditation practice/self observation, I think.
Being back at work after 10 days off is tough and, as ever, starting each day with meditation helps.
Brenda, I've never quite experienced what you describe, but many buddhist meditators regard it as entirely to be expected, I think, and warn only not to take it too seriously, either negatively or positively. I'd say too, though, that you need to honour your feelings, and if you feel like focusing on other kinds of meditation for a while, that's fine.
I'll just second what Jean said, Brenda. It's easy to overfreight stuff like that with meaning.
I also don't have much experience with that sort of thing, but what I've read leads me to think it might be a couple different things. There's an experience variously translated as "sinking" or "torpor," which people who meditate a whole lot can be prone to. If your awareness went kind of dull -- which is what your reference to Alzheimer's suggests to me -- then it's likelier to be that. You can deal with it, they say, by purposely "turning up the wattage" on your awareness, paying closer attention to your senses, and also simply by opening your eyes (or opening them wider, if you meditate with them open) and by lifting your gaze -- instead of resting your gaze on the floor in front of you, look farther out, or even straight ahead. Another thing you can do, if you're practicing some variant of shamatha with an object, is simply change the object. Use a visual object rather than a mantra, or switch to walking meditation, or use ambiant sound, or scent, or something. Just shake it up.
If your awareness was vivid throughout, it might be a good thing, even if it's scary. I'm not entirely sure what you mean by the consciousness that tracks experience. That might be something you want to transcend (eventually) or it might not be. Hard to say, and I know I'm not qualified to judge.
It doesn't really sound like what the Zenners call satori, though. People usually describe that differently -- as like being awash with light, or like being insubstantial and feeling reality sort of blowing through them.
I dunno. You really need a teacher to consult for this one, I think. I'm out of my depth.
Thank you Jean and Dale; what you've said comforts me more than you can know.
It wasn't satori. I was simply entirely absent for an unknown period of time, probably 5-10 minutes, no thought, no universal witnesser. When my daughter came to ask me something I came out of a state of nothingness, and only knew that's where I'd been because daily consciousness kicked in enabling me to understand what sort of state I'd been in. Like falling out of the cloud of unknowing, but seeing it behind you as you slip back into ordinary reality, into this body, these surroundings, this life. Thus knowing you'd been 'there' (though there was no 'there,' no time or space of any kind, or darkness or light, or ecstasy or grief, nothing to be attached to I guess).
It's been profoundly unsettling. And I wonder if I'll seek the state to better understand it, or simply write about it, shrug, and get on with it.
Dale, I just came back and re-read this. I don't think it was that drowsy state of torpor, which I know well :) because even that has an emotional tenor.
How can I say something that was neither nothing nor everything? Today if I had to give a name to it, I'd call it 'the steady state.'
Perhaps what we know as individuality blossoms out of that.
It's scary to be without self. If the ego maintains our cohesions and the memories that constitute us, it's scary to be without this nexus that creates 'me.' Am I ready to leave the life that I am living? No. I'm still here, so it's okay. :)
No, I'm not convinced it was that, either. These things are very tricky because if they don't leave a real trace in your memory, then the memory you have is actually just backfilled (must be, right? Where else could it come from?) So what you have at this point is the memory of your thoughts & emotions upon coming out of that state, and they aren't necessarily good indicators of anything about that state, really.
You're right, Dale. I can't go back past the point of coming out of it, because that's when I recognised that I'd been outside of cognition.
At this point, a few days later, I'm accepting it as a gift.
I don't have any teleologies. Not seeking satori, enlightenment or anything else (I see them as tradition specific, and don't want to align with any tradition too much). It's all just an exploration. As is. Meaning if someone was so ludicrous as to say that I was enlightened, for instance, I'd just laugh at them. That's not the point at all.
For me in my little world it's just about making one decision after another about what to do next. Discovering the self as I go.
Though I suppose I am a consistent and regular meditator and things are bound to happen from time to time on this path.
I am so grateful you are helping me through this latest experience, Dale.
As I integrate it, it's not feeling so radical or strange.
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A few days ago, about mid-evening, there was a moment in my meditation where I completely disappeared. It scared me, actually. Perhaps it was a few minutes even; it was only as I brought myself back that I realized I had been gone. Completely vacuous, no memory, thought, nothing. It wasn't apnea, or a moment of sleep either. All I could think was I hope this is not the beginning of Alzheimers! Or was that an experience of true egolessness... scary because no sense of self at all, or of individuality.
Everything that I am was completely gone in those few minutes, and even the consciousness that tracks experience was absent.
As I re-entered my life, I realized I'd been nowhere.
I've barely meditated the last few days, only doing 15-20 of loving-kindness, not sure if I want to disappear in that way again.
It was too total.
Any insights? Suggestions? Guidance?
Some thoughts from Will of ThinkBuddha blog on his recent retreat with two of my favourite teachers: http://tinyurl.com/g4g77
It's about working with a zen koan, but, for me anyway, this is where buddhist enquiry meets meditation and some of what he says is certainly germane to my thoughts and those of others here on our meditation practice/self observation, I think.
Being back at work after 10 days off is tough and, as ever, starting each day with meditation helps.
Brenda, I've never quite experienced what you describe, but many buddhist meditators regard it as entirely to be expected, I think, and warn only not to take it too seriously, either negatively or positively. I'd say too, though, that you need to honour your feelings, and if you feel like focusing on other kinds of meditation for a while, that's fine.
I'll just second what Jean said, Brenda. It's easy to overfreight stuff like that with meaning.
I also don't have much experience with that sort of thing, but what I've read leads me to think it might be a couple different things. There's an experience variously translated as "sinking" or "torpor," which people who meditate a whole lot can be prone to. If your awareness went kind of dull -- which is what your reference to Alzheimer's suggests to me -- then it's likelier to be that. You can deal with it, they say, by purposely "turning up the wattage" on your awareness, paying closer attention to your senses, and also simply by opening your eyes (or opening them wider, if you meditate with them open) and by lifting your gaze -- instead of resting your gaze on the floor in front of you, look farther out, or even straight ahead. Another thing you can do, if you're practicing some variant of shamatha with an object, is simply change the object. Use a visual object rather than a mantra, or switch to walking meditation, or use ambiant sound, or scent, or something. Just shake it up.
If your awareness was vivid throughout, it might be a good thing, even if it's scary. I'm not entirely sure what you mean by the consciousness that tracks experience. That might be something you want to transcend (eventually) or it might not be. Hard to say, and I know I'm not qualified to judge.
It doesn't really sound like what the Zenners call satori, though. People usually describe that differently -- as like being awash with light, or like being insubstantial and feeling reality sort of blowing through them.
I dunno. You really need a teacher to consult for this one, I think. I'm out of my depth.
Thank you Jean and Dale; what you've said comforts me more than you can know.
It wasn't satori. I was simply entirely absent for an unknown period of time, probably 5-10 minutes, no thought, no universal witnesser. When my daughter came to ask me something I came out of a state of nothingness, and only knew that's where I'd been because daily consciousness kicked in enabling me to understand what sort of state I'd been in. Like falling out of the cloud of unknowing, but seeing it behind you as you slip back into ordinary reality, into this body, these surroundings, this life. Thus knowing you'd been 'there' (though there was no 'there,' no time or space of any kind, or darkness or light, or ecstasy or grief, nothing to be attached to I guess).
It's been profoundly unsettling. And I wonder if I'll seek the state to better understand it, or simply write about it, shrug, and get on with it.
Probably the latter :)
Thanks for holding my hand through this.
Dale, I just came back and re-read this. I don't think it was that drowsy state of torpor, which I know well :) because even that has an emotional tenor.
How can I say something that was neither nothing nor everything? Today if I had to give a name to it, I'd call it 'the steady state.'
Perhaps what we know as individuality blossoms out of that.
It's scary to be without self. If the ego maintains our cohesions and the memories that constitute us, it's scary to be without this nexus that creates 'me.' Am I ready to leave the life that I am living? No. I'm still here, so it's okay. :)
No, I'm not convinced it was that, either. These things are very tricky because if they don't leave a real trace in your memory, then the memory you have is actually just backfilled (must be, right? Where else could it come from?) So what you have at this point is the memory of your thoughts & emotions upon coming out of that state, and they aren't necessarily good indicators of anything about that state, really.
You're right, Dale. I can't go back past the point of coming out of it, because that's when I recognised that I'd been outside of cognition.
At this point, a few days later, I'm accepting it as a gift.
I don't have any teleologies. Not seeking satori, enlightenment or anything else (I see them as tradition specific, and don't want to align with any tradition too much). It's all just an exploration. As is. Meaning if someone was so ludicrous as to say that I was enlightened, for instance, I'd just laugh at them. That's not the point at all.
For me in my little world it's just about making one decision after another about what to do next. Discovering the self as I go.
Though I suppose I am a consistent and regular meditator and things are bound to happen from time to time on this path.
I am so grateful you are helping me through this latest experience, Dale.
As I integrate it, it's not feeling so radical or strange.
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