The Myth of Seeking and the Reality of Being Present Meditation

It is a funny thing, isn't it? We spend years running toward a horizon that moves at the exact same pace we do. We treat the absolute as if it were a distant mountain peak, a trophy to be claimed after enough hours on a cushion or enough silent retreats. But let’s be frank with each other: who is it that is doing the seeking? And what exactly do we think we are going to find "out there" that isn't already the very ground we are standing on? There is a wonderful expression that perfectly captures this absurdity: searching for the donkey while you are already riding it. We are so distracted by the act of looking that we fail to notice the one who is looking, or rather, the aware presence that allows the looking to happen in the first place. When we talk about being present meditation, it is easy to fall into the trap of thinking we are building a ladder to the stars. We imagine that if we sit long enough, or if we quiet the mind sufficiently, we will eventually achieve a state of liberation. But liberation is never of the separate self; it is always from the separate self. The separate self is not an entity with substance; it is a function, a relational mode of the body-mind that tries to manage and control the environment. It isn't "bad" or something to be destroyed—it is simply another expression of the totality. Whether the body-mind is functioning in a way that is harmonious or dysfunctional, whether it is being generous or selfish, it is all the absolute. The absolute doesn't choose favorites. It includes the perfect and the imperfect, the noise and the silence, the saint and the sinner. The crisis often arises when we start treating our awareness as a practice. We get worried when we feel distracted. We think, "I was so present a moment ago, and now I’ve lost it." But how can you lose what you are? If the sensation of being present comes and goes, then that sensation is just another object in the room of your awareness. You are the room, not the furniture. You are the screen, not the film. Even when the film is violent or chaotic, the screen remains untouched, unstained, and utterly present. You don't need to practice being the screen. You already are the screen. The film cannot exist without it, yet the film never changes the screen’s nature. We often hear about living in the present or transcending the time-bound mind. We think of the present as a tiny sliver of time between the past and the future. But the real present isn't a measurement of time at all. It is the timeless condition that allows the very concept of time to appear. It is like the silence that underlies noise. Silence isn't the opposite of noise; it is the space in which noise is born and dies. They exist simultaneously. When we say "I am," we aren't talking about the body-mind’s personality. We are talking about the primary fact of existence.