The Myth of Mind Healing and the Radiance of What Already Is

We often hear about the necessity of **mind healing** as if the mind were a broken machine requiring a specialized mechanic to fix its gears. But what is this thing we call the mind? When we look closely, we find that "mind" is simply the name we give to the totality of thoughts appearing and disappearing in a constant flow. There is no solid entity behind them. Thoughts arise—thoughts of "I should do this" or "I am suffering from that"—and then they vanish. The separate self tries to glue these fleeting moments together to create a story of continuity, a protagonist in a personal film who needs to reach a destination called peace. But who is the one seeking this healing? If we turn our attention toward the source of the seeker, as the stories of old suggest, we find that the seeker cannot be found. When the mind investigates its own origin, it doesn't find a "what you already are" or a "conscious presence"; it simply vanishes. This vanishing is often met with terror by the separate self because it feels like an ending. Yet, in that very disappearance, there is a profound simplicity. We have all known moments of serenity where nothing was lacking. We have also known moments of deep grief or anxiety. The radical truth is that both the serenity and the anxiety are equally the absolute. They both share a presence that is always here, always now. Many people turn to meditation as a tool for **mind healing**, and it is true that sitting in silence can offer benefits for the body-mind. We might become aware of how we use language to hide rather than reveal, or how we speak too much to discharge an emotion rather than actually feeling it. We might notice that most of our thoughts are useless repetitions designed to manage an imaginary future. In the space of meditation, thoughts can become more essential, more like a thin wire of steel in an open room—clear and effective. These are wonderful side effects. They make the "room" of the body-mind feel more orderly. But let us be frank: none of this is a this moment. There is no path because there is nowhere to go. The absolute is not a prize waiting at the end of a long journey of purification. If we think we need to clear away the clouds to find the sun, we forget that even when the sky is completely overcast, it is the sun's light that allows us to see the clouds. The clarity has always been there. The idea that we are "precluded" from this clarity because of our psychological state or our past traumas is just another thought. It is another movement of the separate self trying to maintain its existence by creating a distance between "here" and "there." When we experience a heavy loss or a deep pain, the tendency is to resist, to push it away, or to look for a method of **mind healing** to make it stop. But the totality includes the pain. When an wave of grief hits, it is like the tide of the ocean. If there is no resistance, the wave comes and it goes.