The Myth of Mindful Healing and the Reality of What You Already Are

We often find ourselves caught in a cycle of seeking, convinced that if we just find the right technique or the perfect silence, we will finally arrive at a state of lasting peace. We talk about mindful healing as if it were a bridge to cross from a broken "here" to a perfected "there." But we must ask ourselves: who is it that is trying to heal? Who is the one standing at the edge of this imaginary bridge? When we look closely at the body-mind, we see a constant flow of sensations, thoughts, and emotions. There is an idea of a separate self that claims these experiences, an "I" that says "I am suffering" or "I am meditating to get better." Yet, this separate self is just another appearance within the totality. It is like a character in a film trying to touch the screen it is projected upon. The character can travel across mountains and rivers within the story, but it never actually moves an inch from the screen. The screen is already there, unchanging, whether the film depicts a tragedy or a celebration. In our daily lives, we encounter waves of intense emotion. Perhaps it is a profound loss or the sight of a loved one in pain. The natural tendency of the separate self is to contract, to resist, to push the pain away or to find a spiritual workaround. We might use terms like mindful healing to describe a process of fixing ourselves, but true presence doesn't fix anything because it doesn't see anything as broken. When a wave of grief hits, it is like the tide coming in. If we don't offer resistance, the wave washes over the body-mind and eventually recedes. This isn't a "path" to a result; it is simply the natural movement of the absolute. We might notice that by not resisting, the body-mind feels a certain harmony or a reduction in unnecessary suffering, but this is merely a shift in the weather of the present moment. It doesn't make us "more" enlightened, because the aware presence that notices the grief is exactly the same presence that notices the joy. We often use practices like sitting in silence or listening to sounds as if they were tools to achieve a goal. We might think that by focusing on a sound, we are "entering" a state of being. But presence is not a place you enter. You are already that. How much effort does it take for you to hear the sounds around you right now? Even if you tried not to hear, the hearing happens. This effortless noticing is what we are. While a practice might make the body-mind feel more relaxed—perhaps lowering stress or softening chronic physical tensions—it is not a ladder to the absolute. The absolute is not at the top of a mountain; it is the mountain, the climber, and the exhaustion of the climb. We may feel a sense of "mindful healing" as the body-mind harmonizes with life, but this is just the totality appearing as harmony. It is no more or less "spiritual" than the totality appearing as chaos or illness.