The Myth of Progress and the Reality of Mindful Living in the Absolute

We often find ourselves caught in the trap of thinking that life is a project to be solved or a distance to be traveled. We look for a guide for good action, fearing that if we don't "become" more sensitive or "reach" a certain state of harmony, we are somehow failing a spiritual test. But who is this "I" that is trying to become sensitive? Who is the one worried about whether meditation is being done correctly or if their life is in "symphony" with the absolute? When we look closely, we find that these are just more thoughts appearing in the vastness of what we already are. The separate self loves the idea of a journey because a journey implies a future where it finally arrives, finally achieves proficiency, and finally becomes "enlightened." But this is the ultimate illusion. The idea of mindful living is often sold as a ladder—a way to gradually accumulate spiritual points until you reach a destination. But there is no destination. There is only this. Whether there is emotional balance or complete chaos, it is all the same aware presence appearing as that specific moment. Presence doesn't choose; it doesn't say "I like this peace, but I reject this anxiety." Presence is the very space in which both peace and anxiety arise and dissolve. Think of the screen in a cinema. The screen doesn't get wet when the film shows a storm, and it doesn't burn when the film shows a fire. The screen is the only reality, yet it is completely overlooked because we are so fascinated by the story of the "me" trying to get somewhere. We worry that if we don't follow certain moral laws or practices, we will remain indifferent or stuck. But the absolute is not indifferent; it is everything. It is the tea you drink, the information you seek about the products you buy, and the very confusion you feel about your "spiritual path." It is all the totality. We talk about the "mind" as if it were a thing, a solid entity that we need to master or quiet. But the mind is just a name we give to the stream of passing thoughts. It is a servant that has convinced itself it is the master. When the mind turns outward, it creates the world of objects and goals. But when it asks, "Who am I?" and looks for its own source, it simply vanishes. This vanishing is often terrifying to the separate self because the separate self exists only in the movement of seeking. If there is nowhere to go and nothing to achieve, what happens to the seeker? We might use meditation to feel better in the moment, to make life feel "less sharp" or more harmonious. That is perfectly fine. If the body-mind feels more relaxed, the experience of life may be less abrasive. But let's not lie to ourselves: this comfort is not enlightenment. It is just a different weather pattern. The sun doesn't go away when the clouds arrive; it is simply obscured. Your aware presence is that sun. It is there when you are serene, and it is equally there when you are worried, sick, or facing the thought of death.