Otis

I'm glad you're finding new freedom in your exploration, Aaron. I'm curious. Why do you say that?

Excellent share, Matt! I totally agree with "knowledge does not help without practice." (I do think there is more to the path than quieting the mind, BTW. Surrendering panic, aversion and certainty is one part of it, as well as learning how to live as my body, learning to live as Life, learning to live as Love. But none of these are likely to happen with a noisy mind).

Nice ride, Mal! I don't know about enlightenment, but I do think that motorcycle riding is excellent presence practice! In particular, lane-splitting on the freeway (my whole reason, along with MPG, to get the bike). During lane-splitting, there is no time, whatsoever, to fade away, get caught up in thoughts, or even contemplate the near-miss that just happened, because what's important is always paying attention to what's happening right now. Of course, that does include reading conditions and acting to make sure the future is also safe, but the processing for that cannot take me away from the conditions right now, because they can change so fast. Even when riding more conservatively, there is still no room to drive with the same leaned-back mental posture that car driving often has. Things just happen too fast, and the body is too vulnerable, to be absent for any length of time. I wouldn't recommend motorcycle riding to anyone who doesn't really enjoy being at full attention for prolonged periods. But if you do, then it's a beautiful ride!

Wanted to share another video about doing it wrong. This was our tribute to the Grinch, and was shot on Christmas Day. My main collaborator, Nick (who plays the Grinch) and I (as Max, the dog) went around "ruining" people's Christmas. Which involved stealing stuff from them, kidnapping people, and generally celebrating suffering! Nice to play being despicable, to play around at being wildly inappropriate.

Nice. Laughing at my own mistakes is another way of embracing the parts of me that are foolish, rather than trying to deny and cover up.

Great topic! I've made a huge batch of prank, play and dance videos based on that idea. Friends and I take household items or trash, and juggle with them, make music with them, find ways to interact with them that has nothing to do with what the item is for. Or we go out in character, and misbehave in public, interacting with random people. Everything is improv, and there is rarely any direction, mostly just collaboration. Also, I've made several in which I stunt or dance in public, interacting with the physical environment in ways that are "wrong". I have a strong desire to explore the "wrong" way, to try the unmarked door, to forget what things are supposed to be, and re-find them through playful interaction. I see the belief in a "right" way as a trap, one that emphasizes ritual and concept over immediacy and relationship. No one video covers the range of what we've explored, but here's one from a series in which I brought a bunch of stuff from the 99 cent store (in this case, toilet-related items), and just invited friends to play. It's definitely about doing it wrong.

Hi Rich, I've had a bit of a physical (and spiritual?) renaissance in the last decade, and I can tell you what worked for me. I didn't take any supplements or classes or anything. I just gave myself permission to do things that were fun for me. Dance became a central part of my life, then I got into contact staff, then sword-fighting. I started breakdancing at 35, started doing parkour at 38. I made a series of prank and stunt videos that challenged my social and physical fears, and pushed me into my unknown. At the same time, I also started to really take my body seriously. I learned to love stretching, and made the exploration and discovery of what my body is capable of, into a centerpiece of my life. I learned to slow down and allow movement, rather than make it happen. I spent time like a child, balancing and exploring the limits of my body, with no goal other than to learn and grow. I went hiking barefoot and climbed trees. All of this grew out of a new commitment to living authentically. To forget about who I thought I was, or where I thought I was going, and instead be the eternal student of life. A commitment to letting my body dance itself. To accepting where I'm at, right now. To exploring the uncomfortable, and embracing the scary. To allowing myself to be foolish, and surrendering the need to be right. All of this has dramatically shifted my energy, endurance, flexibility, ease, efficiency, and I believe: my creativity, ability to pay attention, and to understand. Youth has been fading for some time, but I'm learning the ease and efficiency of being myself, and it allows me to live in a more youthful state.

Hi InfinityTruth, This is all very familiar to me; it's a pattern I see in myself. Once I have emerged from clear flow/surrender, I feel arise a clinging need to go back to what I had. With experience, I realize that it's impossible to go back. The moment that flow and I diverged, is a moment that is already over. The flow has moved on, and so I can't step back into where I was. Instead, I have to find the flow again, by re-connecting to it, wherever it is in this moment. Present flow is the only flow that can be interacted with. Memories of past flow only give rise to intellectual concepts. The only way to step back into the clarity of surrendering, is to surrender again. And not necessarily surrender to what I was surrendering to, last time I had the epiphany. But surrender to what is, right now, always. Just keep coming back to that. And of course, that meant I had to surrender the desire to be in a specific state of mind. In fact, it suggested that no state of mind was wrong, but that all states need to be awake and mature, in order for the full unified self to really grow. So I no longer aim to achieve certain mental states, but rather, just tune to what is, and let my state be where it is. I trust that every moment teaches me, if I empty myself before it. If I am willing to be its student. And not so much teaches my head, by serving me pithy lessons, but teaches my body and my emotions and my choices, by involving them in life. That also means practicing no longer being in control, no longer being right, no longer being special or attractive or any of the other things that my fears crave for me to be. It means just being. When possible, not even naming the being, not justifying it, not coming up with rationales, scorecards or hierarchies. No more "what's real". No more "I know". Just empty, empty, empty. And that includes not only getting rid of clinging, but of aversion, the other half of the problem. So it's a lot of work. Fun work, because I get lighter, every time I surrender. But I also get heavier, every time I take a shortcut, whenever I am dishonest with myself. So my freedom is entirely based on my willingness to take responsibility for how I interact with the world and my own head, even as I surrender my control of that interaction and that head. It's a tough balance, and it takes a ton of practice, but I find it a very worthwhile path.

Good share, Aaron. Yeah, I think the "powerless before our addiction" thing offends a lot of people's need to be in control, so they see it as chosen victimization. I think I used to hear it that way, when I first heard the 12 steps. But in the context of "recognizing the difference between" what I can and cannot control, acceptance makes a lot more sense. If it's out of my control, then there's sure no purpose in fighting it. And of course, it is only the future that I can possibly influence, so there is never a reason to resist the present or the past.

Great share! I find, too, that when I accept what is going on, and see it as a situation, rather than a problem, it allows me to slow down. I have much less panicky need to fix it right now, and thus, have much more room to observe the situation, and patiently come up with an elegant solution.

The lesson of surrender has been one that hasn't stopped teaching me. No matter how much I think I've learned to let go and accept, life comes along and shows me how much I'm still holding on to. At first, I fell for surrender of control, particularly during dance and stretch. Which has been amazing, but I was still holding on to the surrender as the "right path". Because I attached to it as "right", I scolded my self, when I was not surrendering. Which led me to realize that as long as I was making myself separate from myself, then I was not fully surrendering, but holding on to a religion of surrender. When I can allow the attaching to come and go, without trying to fix it, then I am surrendering not only to events, but also to my own sense of self. Don't make the self bad, nor try to eradicate it. Surrender my need to be in control of myself, as I'm surrendering to being in control of my life. Don't try to realize anything; just stop trying. Just stop.

A great post throughout, but this is particularly excellent!

Excellent! That's a beautiful mantra!

Excellent share, OldGreen! I am 100% in agreement. If I'm not scaring myself somewhat, physically and socially, then it's a sign that I'm not challenging myself enough. There are times, I think, in which the body, heart, soul need healing, and then, sometimes it may be best to cocoon somewhat. But whenever possible, I try to live in that posture of incremental mystery, leaning forward into the unknown. It's like riding on a snowboard, having the weight on the front foot. The brakes are available through the back foot, but adventure is available by stepping in the direction of the travel.

I agree with the buyer beware! If I don't tie my beliefs to some sort of reliable authority, like science, than I may run the risk of being duped, or fooled, by my own wishes and fears. But I think that I do not need certainty, in order to stay skeptical (in fact, they seem fully opposed to each other). I don't want to blindly accept anyone else's certainties, but I also don't want to blindly accept my own. For me, I am in the process of continually waking up to how much my life was being run by habit, and how much of that habit was unconscious (including the habits of consciousness and perception themselves, the mechanics of which happen out of my sight). When I first realized that my beliefs were accidents of my life, thus far, and not something that I needed to reinforce, I immediately set out to find better beliefs. But at some point, I decided to let that go. It no longer felt useful to shift my beliefs to new ones, in order to have the right ones. What was really useful was exploring in mystery, and allowing myself to grow, without my conscious control or direction. Give "my" life over to the greater organism. Accept where I am right now, including the beliefs I have, and then systematically practice not taking any of it too seriously. Let go of being a believer, and learn to be a student of immediate experience. Of course, some times I want to interpret my curious new experiences, and find explanations for them. But that's an impulse I'm also learning to surrender. Stop trying so hard to figure it out, and let the experience, the practice, be enough, without a pithy lesson to go along with it. ----- Regarding this rhetorical chair of yours, you don't need certainty for that, either. You just need to see it as an acceptable risk, like NASA does (and on a much smaller scale). But if you think about it, it is awareness of conditions that makes risk assessment accurate, not certainty. Certainty actually makes risk assessment less accurate, because it substitutes beliefs for observation. And yes, it is a relationship you have with your chair. You rely on it; it is continually there for you. In a sense, life is all relating, to phenomena and objects, as well as to people. And a relationship with anything requires the willingness to listen, to not be in the know. Certainty just makes me more important than what I relate with, whereas listening gets me closer to it.

Yes, Marblehead, I very much appreciate that you are no fan of absolutes, and that you don't get sucked-in by tempting but baseless spiritual metaphors. I know full well that you and I are not on opposite sides of this question, which, I suspect, is the reason that we are able to have this conversation. When I bring up certainty with the dogmatists on these boards, they immediately go into duck, dodge and dissemble mode. So I appreciate that I can even have this discussion with someone who will actually consider my points, rather than just reflexively dismiss them. So, if you don't mind, I'll continue my explication of certainty a bit, because I think it is worthwhile. In my life, the lesson to let go of certainty has blazed a bright hot trail through the center of my journey and my beliefs. Am I certain that one shouldn't be certain? Of course not. But to me, the assertion that certainty = attachment is uncontroversial. If, as I am defining it, certainty = the insistence that something is right/not right, then that insistence is exactly attachment. Regarding the moon missions, I don't think we are talking about certainty, at all, but rather, acceptable risk. Of course, in preparation for the launches, NASA scientists worked tirelessly to narrow the gap of uncertainty. But I doubt that anyone who worked on the missions would say that the outcomes were certain. (This is of course, analogous to K's point, above, about ships in the ocean (or your chair). Everything is acceptable risk). Isn't it entirely possible to have science without certainty (in fact, isn't it preferable)? Can't science continue to be bold exploration and theorizing, (coupled, of course, with careful experimentation, peer-review and the requirements for repeatability)? In fact, isn't the history of science about defying the orthodoxy of the day (usually enforced by the church), and pushing into the unknown? Of course I don't think that a scientist should just surrender the conclusions that have been reached, whenever someone shows up with an "Intelligent Design"-type theory of their own. Of course there are valid reasons to be more convinced of one thing, than another, to have a hierarchy of plausibility. In fact, that is built into the human species, as far as I can tell. The human brain is constantly looking to figure things out, especially when it is brand new. Which is great, because it means some low-level science is going on in every baby's head, exploring and testing experiential possibilities. The great leap forward in human knowledge-gathering happened upon the invention of language, when things could be taught conceptually, rather than all data having to be inferred from experiences. But that leap forward also carried with it a trap. From that moment forward, part of reality was no longer "what is real", but "what is said". Now concepts started to define reality, and would substitute for experience. This was great for warning others: "I saw a snake down there"! But it also started to create illusions and false constructs in the brains of people. Our society has grown further and further away from experiential education, and closer to a "reality" made up of borrowed concepts. Much of conceptual "reality" is formed in the first 5 years of one's life, often by parents who most desire 1. a cocoon for their kids, and 2. obedience. Note that it is during this time in the kids' life, that many parents return to religion, after rejecting it in their youth. IMO, this is because when they were young, they sensed the need to be free of their parents' certainty, but once they have their own kids, their fear leads them back into the addiction to certainty, that religion feeds. Parents start repeating what their parents said and yes, they start voting Republican. Raising children is an exercise in mystery, and mystery drives most people back into the shallows, scrambling for safety. And so, generation after generation, we pass down ridiculous ideas, like fundamentalism, consumerism, nationalism, sexism, racism, xenophobia, homophobia, etc. Not that certainty doesn't reflect some degree of truth, but the certainty that is applied to each -ism goes far beyond its applicability in life, into dysfunction, war, scape-goating and hatred. We seekers are the ones, who, somewhere along the line, become restless, start to doubt the certainty around us, and explore in the mystery. And when we do so, we witness that the world is much bigger than we thought it was. And my question is: what happens then? After shrugging off the certainty of our parents, or our society, do we then revert back to worshiping our own certainty, that we are right? Or do we keep going? Do we then take on mystery as a way of life, discovery and exploration as the natural paths of growth? Do we live in a "contracting V", with our cone of certainty keeping other possibilities out, so that we seek to have our beliefs confirmed, rather than challenged; seek to be comfortable, rather than engaged? Or do we live in an "expanding V", in which we continually surrender the "known", and joyfully dive into the mystery? To me, the rest of my life hinges on that question. Will I accept complacency, say "good enough", and live according to whatever certainty gives me solace? Or will I become even more interested in challenging myself, facing my fears, trying out new things, listening to new people, and generally going beyond my self? Certainty is a trait that, as far as I can tell, only keeps me connected to my past, but which closes me to my future. But the past is done; the future is what I want to build for. So, therefore, I seek to lessen the grip that my certainty has on me, and live in mystery.

Marblehead, You've seen me defending materialism here. It's not because I'm certain it's true, but because it makes a lot of sense to me, and seems to be well supported by science. Since I don't know how to live without any beliefs, I'm all for finding the sensible explanation that's well supported by science. I will not, however, say: "end of the story. I'm done with doubting. That's all and no further!" Where should I draw the line? What do I gain (besides self-satisfaction) by insisting that any one belief is accurate to reality? As long as my working model is delivering satisfactory results, then I don't need to change it. But neither do I need to enshrine it, make it gospel. Tomorrow, I may lose a job, or a loved one, or an arm, and then suddenly I'm faced with the terror of realizing that my certainty has not brought me the comfort it promises. It only says "I know the right way!", but it does not help me live.

OK, fine. But is the certainty of the chair actually useful? What is gained, by being certain about the chair? Isn't it enough to have a good relationship with the chair? My practice with dancing on things in the environment is precisely about letting go of the right way to use the object, the right posture and attitude toward it. Everyone knows what a fire hydrant is for, what a bulldozer does. And knowing these things, they miss the opportunity that I find, when I just approach it in a curious way. Nor am I doing it the right way, but at least I'm asking questions, and in so doing, I'm discovering that my biases about these items (namely, that I will get hurt by them) turns out to be a mis-apprehension. I find instead that most of the danger, comes from my fear or over-eagerness. The objects themselves are neutral, as long as I stay aware.

I like what you wrote, Aaron, and I think you did a good job of approaching the subject from both directions. Yes, there is one direction from which the light comes. And it'll serve me well, if I head toward the light. But as you say, that doesn't mean that the darkness is bad, or should be avoided. In fact, I need to head into the darkness as well, if I want to make peace with myself, if I want to let go of avoidance. I can grow in many directions at once, and they help to balance each other out. But I think that certainty is an inhibitor to growth. If I'm determined that light is the way to go, I miss the dark. If I'm determined that surrender is everything, I'll miss the things that are worth committing to.

I re-read it, but don't really understand your point. Of course duality and certainty are entwined. But the problem with duality isn't that: it is false. It's that: it's not true. What's true is something bigger than duality or non-duality, bigger than any of our concepts. It's something more like quantum physics, something that doesn't really make sense to the human brain. I don't think we were evolved to see truth, only to see useful illusions. Realizing that what we experience are illusions, is IMO as close as we can come to seeing the truth. Like Socrates said: "I know only one thing, and that is that I know nothing." Delusion, of course, is mistaking our illusions, our mental re-creations of the world, for the actual world itself. Dualism is a useful tool, for many parts of life, as long as I don't start insisting that it is what's real. Certainty is what's wrong with dualism.

I totally agree. I don't see any possible way to really see actual truth, but having multiple models, even contradictory ones, can help give a more three dimensional view of what can't be seen directly. Another good reason not to be too certain, because then other models cannot be recognized, as having validity. OK, I'll give you this. What boats have is uprightness. They stay above water, rather than sink below it. They rarely flip upside down. And that does imply, that above water is better than below it. One may lead to life, the other to death. There are things that, generally speaking, are good for us, and other things that, generally speaking, are not. It's good to have the information which points to those things. You'll get no argument from me there. And I do think that uprightness is very much worth cultivating, finding our own buoyancy, our own balance, ease, and joy. And I think it's important to practice in the world, to become seaworthy. This is the yang half of the truth. But I don't think that certainty is what's needed. A ship stays afloat by not insisting on a specific direction "up". In the ocean, if you try to remain rigidly vertical, you get broken. To ride the ocean, the ship needs to be able to surrender to it, skillfully. The ship can't insist that it survives the storm; it has to make its way through the storm, moment by moment, by listening to its demands. (This is the yin half). When the storms of life come, what good does my certainty do? What matters is whether I've learned to ride the waves.

I hadn't thought of that.

The short answer is: I don't know. I don't know how to live without certainty. But I do feel strongly called toward living that way (even as my old habits want to call me back). I don't think I need to give up all my beliefs, which often serve me well. But I do want to cling less and less tightly to those beliefs. Yes, if I cut off my finger, I will want a pain-killer, nor would I ever say someone was wrong for wanting that. But we all know how easy it is to abuse oxycontin, or the other pain medicines. Likewise, the pain of everyday life is kept at bay with ego addictions, like being "important" or "special" or "right". These are all self-descriptors, ways that cloak myself in adjectives, to feel good about myself. What other use do they serve me? But self-image is illusory, and corrupted by my wishes and fears. When I consider myself "right", then I refuse to really listen to others with opposing viewpoints. I alienate my bosses, my girlfriend, society at large, because I have already arrived, have already reached the pinnacle, and therefore cannot allow others to be right, as well. If I am right, and you disagree with me, then of course, you must be wrong. If I say I know what reality is, or see the true nature of things, then I am declaring that my viewpoint is the correct one, which means that all other viewpoints are wrong. Then I am immune to others' wisdom, and I place myself above them. 6 billion+ people in this world, none of whom share my exact views, and I'm going to insist that I'm the one who's right? Being certain is actually the opposite of accepting myself as I am. Because certainty is exalting my model of myself and the world, rather than just being who I am. Besides that, letting go of certainty friggin' rocks! When I stop telling myself "I can't do this", then opportunity opens up. When I stop trying to dance the right way, the way that I think looks cool, or whatever, then my body really opens up and dances for joy. When I listen to reality, rather than insisting that I already know better, then it shows me all kinds of secret pathways, that my model could never anticipate. Listening and certainty are opposite vectors. Awareness is inhibited, love is stunted, and possibility is curtailed, by certainty. Isn't it possible to be utterly clear, confident, present, and aware, without ever insisting that I am right? And if it is, then what need do I have of certainty?

It is delicious, it is wonderful, and it is highly addictive, to be sure about one's standing in the world. "I've arrived" or "I'm right" are like narcotics, so tempting, so rewarding. What is difficult, is to live in the complexity. To live with self-doubt. To allow myself to be wrong, to be foolish, to not understand everything. That's painful and depressing. Oh, so much happier to be under the spell of certainty. I get it all, so I don't have to listen to anyone else. No doubt, no mistakes, just grand old correct perfect wonderful me. But where is the growth in that? How will I move forward, if I am unwilling to be skeptical about my own BS? If I'm unwilling to listen? If I'm unwilling to be wrong? Xabir, you can keep your "liberation", because it sounds like the worst kind of delusion to me. Have fun in your fairy kingdom of certainty and absolute beliefs (that somehow will be shrugged off as no absolutes, no beliefs). Enjoy being the one who's always right, no matter what anyone else says. For me, there is a huge world out there, that I don't yet understand. There are 6 billion+ people who don't agree with me. And that's fine. I don't have to be king of understanding. I just need to be me, and do my best, be my most clear, my most aware, and yes, my most empty. And I need to be willing to be wrong, because growth IME is the best thing to live for. Exploring, discovering; that's what makes life an adventure, what makes experience rich.