No Way To Know

I frequently reflect on the inherent limitations of describing spirituality or reality.

While my purpose in writing this blog is often to explore and articulate my thoughts on these topics, the primary intention is to engage in a dialogue with myself. I write to process ideas, consider concepts, and revisit “Aha!” moments that I wish to examine further at a later time.

Nonetheless, I recognize the inherent inefficacy of these attempts. I often liken the endeavor of analyzing or describing reality to a dog attempting to comprehend and describe my actions when I leave for work. My dog has no way of understanding what occurs during my absence, and any attempt she might make to interpret my day will be fragmented and shaped by her limited cognitive capacity. She may imagine I spend the day at a dog park or lounging on a larger couch—ideas that, while appealing, fail to reflect the true nature of my activities. Her understanding is constrained to her perspective as a dog.

Similarly, every spiritual teaching or lecture is fragmented because human comprehension is inherently limited by the constraints of our own minds. It is worth noting that nearly all attempts to convey reality center on the human experience. Rarely, if ever, do we encounter a discourse on reality from the viewpoint of a tree, for example. Yet, while humans are integral to the fabric of reality, we can never fully grasp reality from the perspective of other life forms, such as trees, whose experiences are just as vital.

Even within the human community, each individual’s understanding of reality is shaped by their personal experiences. For instance, a person who is deaf will have a vastly different perception of music than someone with hearing, while someone who lacks sight will experience touch in ways that those with sight cannot fully comprehend. Our capacity to understand reality is further influenced by the language we speak and the cultural context in which we are raised. A person raised in India will likely have a different understanding of consciousness than someone raised in East Tennessee, United States.

It is a fundamental mistake to assume that any of our descriptions or interpretations of reality and spirituality are complete or exhaustive. While I do not believe that attempting to communicate our understanding of reality is inherently futile, I do believe that we must acknowledge that all such attempts are inherently flawed. Each effort is an incomplete and imperfect reflection of a reality that is infinite and beyond full human comprehension.

Personally, I prefer to experience reality without the constraints of words or thoughts, holding the understanding that I can never fully know or grasp what is happening. To reach a point where one believes they fully understand is, in my view, a dangerous place to be. It is wiser, I think, to remain in a state of “unknowing,” where the limits of our understanding are acknowledged and embraced.

Distraction

Illusions of the world consistently capture more of our attention than the Truth itself. This is an inherent aspect of human nature. Truth is eternal, still, and unchanging, whereas illusion is characterized by movement, drama, and constant change. We are naturally drawn to focus on the mind, which is the source of these illusions. Even when we realize that we are the peaceful stillness that embodies Truth, it remains challenging not to be mesmerized by the ever-shifting content of the mind. It is akin to watching a movie rather than the screen, listening to the notes instead of the rests, or gazing at the stars and planets without considering the vastness of the space in between.

When a wealthy man asked Jesus how he could attain salvation, Jesus instructed him to give away his possessions. Essentially, he was to let go of the objects themselves but this did not mean he would lose the True essence of wealth. The man needed to detach from the illusions of wealth. Material possessions, like money, are transient; coins can melt, wealth can dissipate, and belongings can be lost or stolen. However, True wealth, rooted in the eternal and unchanging, cannot be taken away. Unfortunately, few of us truly recognize the immense value of this kind of wealth.

When we become consumed by the activity of the mind, we lose touch with our true essence, and in doing so, we operate under a form of hypnosis. It is as though we are immersed in a dreamlike state, believing the actors, props, and sets of our mental world are real. We come to identify with them, forgetting that we are not merely a part of this illusion—we are far more than that. Meditation can often assist in redirecting our attention toward Truth, away from the illusions of the mind. Nevertheless, it remains a daily practice to avoid becoming entangled in the captivating, yet ephemeral, contents of the mind.

Beyond Appearances

“Do not judge by outward appearance, but judge with righteous judgment.” – John 7:24 [New American Standard Bible]

In spiritual work, we often need to “translate” appearances into deeper truths. This process can face resistance from the mind, which constantly seeks logic, reason, and tradition. While these are useful in the physical world, the mind isn’t always the best tool for understanding the spiritual realm.

I see spiritual study as the pursuit of understanding the “essence” of reality. Many people may feel uncomfortable with the word “spiritual” because of its religious associations. They may argue that there is no spirit, but most would agree that all life has an essence. At some point, we’ve all sensed that there is more to the world than what meets the eye. For example, we can see and touch a rhinoceros, but we can also imagine one—a rhinoceros that exists only in our mind.

Spiritual translation can be more complex than that, however. Imagine receiving a gift from a four-year-old that looks like a crumpled lump of clay. “It’s you, Daddy!” they say. Though it may seem like nothing more than a lump of clay, you can easily look past its appearance and see the love behind it. This gift represents pure love, and it’s why you keep it for the rest of your life. Seeing the love in something that appears broken or imperfect is kind of what it means to “judge with righteous judgment.” It’s spiritual translation. Appearances, on their own, often fail to capture the true essence of reality.

When you experience something spiritually, don’t be too concerned if your mind starts questioning it. With time, you’ll learn to ignore the mind’s doubts. The mind is focused on appearances, so it isn’t always helpful in spiritual matters. Still, part of translating appearances spiritually is reaching some kind of understanding with the mind. “Yes, I see that it looks this way, mind. I understand your point.” Your mind will insist that a lump of clay is just that—a lump of clay. It will argue that you are only the body you see before you. Yes, it does appear that way, but there’s more to it.

Stay aware that the true nature of any situation is almost always beyond its outward appearance. Just like desert mirages or train tracks that seem to meet at the horizon, appearances can be deceiving. The truth is often hidden behind the surface. The mind will try to convince you that life is made up of separate individuals, objects, thoughts, and events happening at different times and places.

But the simple reality is this: everything is just awareness being aware of itself.

You Are Not Your Mind

It is important to remember that you are not your mind. This recognition is a central “task” in the spiritual journey. Human life, by its nature, constantly draws us into identifying with our minds. This identification often leads to feelings of separation, loneliness, and unhappiness, which many of us experience regularly.

When you feel the urge to emphasize differences between yourself and others, recognize that this impulse originates from your mind. These impulses often arise when the ego seeks validation. To strengthen our sense of individuality, the mind highlights distinctions—political, religious, cultural, or national. Some may focus on differences in race, sexual orientation, or physical traits. In extreme cases, we may create adversaries to feel superior. Yet, in every instance, these differences are constructs of the mind, serving to bolster the ego’s sense of self.

When your mind tries to convince you that you are separate from others—often portraying them as ignorant or inferior—it is projecting the same flaws it criticizes. While we appear to be distinct individuals, this perception is an illusion. Human existence is deeply rooted in this illusion of separation. However, it is possible to live with this awareness while keeping the truth of unity in our consciousness. In interactions with those who remain unaware of this truth, we may sometimes need to act within the illusion. Yet, the challenge of the spiritual path is to see beyond appearances and perceive the deeper reality.

When you feel the impulse to magnify differences in others, use it as an opportunity to uncover deeper truths. Differences are created and amplified by the mind. Tomorrow, your beliefs may shift, and the distinctions you saw yesterday will fade away. Boundaries change, flags evolve, and physical appearances are fleeting. Your mind and its activity are not permanent. By recognizing what is eternal, you will see others as they truly are. Like a mirror, this understanding will reflect your true self.

Does Awareness Come From The Brain?

Q: Isn’t consciousness/awareness produced in the brain?

A: The brain is indeed the organ that facilitates many aspects of our consciousness, but the awareness itself cannot be fully explained by the brain alone. The nature of awareness is fundamentally different from the ever-changing processes of the brain.

Consider this: the brain is constantly in motion. It’s always processing, adapting, and evolving. Over the course of our lives, the brain itself—and everything it governs, including our thoughts, memories, and perceptions—undergoes continual transformation. When you look at yourself as a child, a teenager, and as an adult, you see a drastically different version of yourself at each stage. Physically, mentally, and emotionally, the person you are now is unrecognizable from the person you once were. Even your thoughts, the very content produced by the brain, shift as you age. You might think things now that you would never have considered at 10, 20, or 30 years old. Sometimes, our thoughts can change so quickly that in a single day, we might feel like entirely different people.

And yet, through all these changes, something within us remains constant—our awareness. This is the key distinction. While the objects of our awareness, such as thoughts, memories, and perceptions, are in constant flux, the awareness itself is timeless. Our awareness—the very quality of being aware—doesn’t change. When we reflect on our earliest memories, our awareness of them feels no different than our awareness now. There’s a continuity, a feeling of agelessness, a sense that our awareness is not bound by time or circumstance.

This presents a paradox: how can something as fluid and ever-changing as the brain produce something that never changes—our pure awareness? The brain is a dynamic, physical structure that operates within the realm of change and transformation. It’s constantly adapting, reconfiguring itself, and even deteriorating with age. So how can it give rise to something that remains the same, untouched by time or change?

It seems that awareness cannot be the product of the brain alone. Instead, awareness might be something more fundamental, a presence that transcends the brain’s transient processes. It is the witness to all the changing phenomena within the mind, yet it itself remains unaffected. Our awareness is not something produced by the brain; rather, it is the field in which the brain and everything else arises. In this light, the brain may be a tool for expressing and experiencing awareness, but it cannot be the source of it. Awareness, in its purest form, exists independently of the physical changes that occur within the brain.