The Myth of Seeking Peace of Mind Meditation and the Reality of What You Already Are

We often find ourselves caught in a strange loop, searching for the donkey while we are already riding it. It is a peculiar human habit to look for what is already present, to treat the destination as something far off in the future when it is actually the ground we are standing on right now. Many come to the idea of peace of mind meditation with a heavy backpack of expectations, hoping to find a ladder that leads out of the noise and into some permanent state of grace. But who is it that wants to climb this ladder? And where do we think we are going? The truth is that there is no this moment because there is nowhere to go. Enlightenment is not a trophy to be won or a destination at the end of a long journey of self-improvement. It is the realization that the separate self, the one who thinks they are making progress, is simply a collection of thoughts appearing and disappearing in an ocean of aware presence. We talk about liberation as if it is something the "we" achieves, but liberation is never of the separate self; it is from the separate self. It is the falling away of the illusion that there is an "I" who is separate from the totality of what is happening. When we sit in silence, we might notice that the body-mind experiences a certain relief. Meditation can indeed bring comfort now, and it may even fulfill its promise of creating a quieter mind or a more focused intellect. If we want a state of deep quiet or a transformation of the body’s subtle energies, certain practices can deliver those results. They are horizontal improvements within the dream of time. But let’s be frank: these states have nothing to do with the absolute. The absolute is not a state to be achieved; it is the screen upon which all states—peaceful or chaotic—are projected. Whether the mind is screaming or silent, the conscious presence that allows those experiences to appear remains untouched and complete. We often get distracted from being, but the being itself is never distracted. We think of the separate self as a solid entity, but it is more like a relational function of the body-mind, a way of organizing experience. Whether this function is working "well" or "badly"—whether there is kindness or exploitation, health or sickness—it is all a perfect expression of the absolute. The totality includes everything: the perfect and the imperfect, the noise and the silence. To suggest that we must reach a state where "mountains are no longer mountains" is to miss the point entirely. The silence of the abyss is the background of every noise, just as the silence of the room is the background of every word spoken. They are not separate. The seeker often feels lonely, frustrated by the loud guides and the spiritual separate self that permeates so many groups. We look for a space where we can simply coexist with others without the need for chatter or new-age music.