The Awareness That Remains
There is something here that is also everywhere.
Contemplate this, and know it to be true from your own experience and understanding.
There is a space between us, true? That space also surrounds us, yes? We can rightly say that this space is also within each of us individually. If it is within each of us individually, then the space inside of you is the same as the space inside of everyone else. It is similar to the way in which a room in my home holds space that is no different from the space in a room in your home. The furniture may differ. The angle, shape, size, and perspective from which we view it may differ, yet it is, when all is said and done, the same space.
The awareness of this space is the space of awareness.
Contemplating this space, we can say that it holds all things. Holding all things, it also holds itself. But does it have any weight? It holds all weight, yet it is itself weightless. What is weightless, in this sense, cannot actually be held. How, then, can you comprehend it?
What is weightless, like spaciousness, takes up no space. What takes up no space has no distance or circumference and therefore cannot be measured. In this way, it does not grow, move, or change.
Being immeasurable, it is without any dimension. Being dimensionless, it does not exist in a way that is bound by time and space. Being timeless, it is called eternal. What is eternal fills all, yet having no end, it is already fulfilled. It has nowhere to go, for it moves only within itself. Standing still endlessly, it rests as Pure Beingness.
Resting endlessly as Pure Being, it is no longer merely space, but something wordless that cannot be expressed and which can only be experienced by being it. Being it, one is engrossed in its Presence. Presence is all it is, and Presence is the felt vibration of Awareness.
Awareness is thus fundamental. It is essential; indeed, it is the essence of our nature. It is that which you cannot get behind, like an ultimate ground or substratum of existence.
You could have a realisation and say, "Yes, I get it; that is me. I am awareness." But who would be saying that? Who would claim it? That’s the subtlety with the recognition of awareness: it is just awareness being aware—there is not a second "you" who recognises it. As soon as someone claims to be aware, awareness contracts again into the idea of the individual. It is important to notice this tendency. It is a trick of the ego, claiming dominion over your newfound realisation.
If you don’t see this subtlety—from the shift of saying "I am aware" to just pure awareness—you miss a valuable jewel already in your pocket. Flip the script to where silence itself speaks louder than the incessant rumination about what you think awareness is.
Just as talk of silence is not silence, ideas about awareness are not awareness.
Let the ideas go for a moment. Put down the phone. Put down the subtle craving. Sit quietly in the presence of this moment.
Awareness, at the end of the day, is all you have in order to experience the gift of this life.
***
Look to life. Life will show you where you are hiding, where you are running from life, where you fear the end of life, and where you risk ignoring the outcome, yet continue to pursue ignorance. Realisation awakens you from the dream of ignorance, which means simply not knowing—or even knowing, but ignoring the fact. Awakening from the dream of ignorance means that dreaming itself becomes dissatisfying. One is no longer fulfilled or entranced by the play of the world.
Look to awareness. Awareness will show you where you are not aware. It acts as a natural barometer. If something happens that disturbs you and you are aware, then you will be conscious of the disturbance. If you are unaware, you will simply feel disturbed. It can be that simple. The awareness that recognises the disturbance remains undisturbed. In contrast, the lack of awareness that results in disturbance becomes completely consumed by it.
Every time we are consumed, feeding the hungry ghosts of ignorance, they grow and threaten to devour us. Our task, then, is to stop feeding the compulsive, impulsive, and neurotic monster within.
In the Gospel of Thomas, Jesus says: “If a lion eats a person, the person becomes like the lion. If a person eats the lion, the lion becomes like the person.” In other words, when unknown instinctual drives consume us, we become their prey, shaped by their pull and temptation—this is the realm of manas, the instinctual mind. But when awareness awakens as buddhi and consumes ignorance, it transforms those impulses into clarity. The reactionary lion of ignorance is tamed and becomes an expression of wisdom. In the light of awareness, the shadows become light.
To paraphrase an old Tibetan saying: “It doesn't matter how long the shadow has been there, ancient and twisted in itself; as soon as the light shines upon it, it vanishes.” That is how the conditioned world is in the light of reality. Everything that has been obscured from that light craves the light. Everything that has become confused or disturbed in separation from truth is drawn towards the light of truth. Sometimes it is drawn in sinister ways that seek to attack or confuse the truth. Deep down, however, it is reaching out for the path of purification, presence, and peace.
Truth is pure. Nothing can contaminate it. Coming close to truth purifies. Ultimately, there is only truth. Everything that says otherwise is not the ultimate view. In the end of days, only truth remains.
On one side, there is so much work to be done. On the other side, there are no sides, and it says the work is already done.
And so it is, the work is already done.
When we close the book, there is something that remains.
Close the book of you, and say what you truly are.
***
It is a hard road to give your life to life, to let life live through you, to surrender to love, to turn your face and orient yourself toward something more beautiful, something more true. It takes a lot of courage, a lot of discipline, and a lot of faith to follow through on the revelation one has had that moves them deeply toward the presence of truth.
It seems very difficult. However, if we zoom out and take a step back, we can see that the part of ourselves that thinks it would be easier just to forget about it, to fall back into habitual patterns and automated behaviours that sustain our unawareness, is deceiving us. If we take in the whole scene, we realise that it is, in fact, much more difficult not to walk the good road. It is much harder to be ignorant. It is much more difficult to forget.
So, as much as the practice of remembrance calls for an inner discipline—that is to say, discipleship—it offers a much more robust vehicle with which to tread the road of life. And in the long run, it is so much more worthwhile, isn’t it?
What are you afraid of losing? What truly fears loss is the illusion, and it clings to itself. It clings to the mirage, to the appearance of things. Why would we forgo reality to live in a dream? We would only do so if we had first confused the dream for reality and decided it was better to live in a fantasy.
The struggle is not with the path, the direction, or the way one walks. The struggle lies in how much resistance we have to what presence reveals, and in the extent to which we cling to the illusion of control.
Yet, as we lean into the practice, putting one foot in front of the other, as we allow love to take the lead, we begin to see that the effort is not in the walking, but in the holding back. To give yourself fully is not to lose, but to be liberated from the burden of forgetfulness, from the heaviness of estrangement.
The good road, though it requires everything, ultimately gives back all that is needed and returns all things to their rightful source. It restores us to what we always were: whole, connected, and alive in life. That is grace.
***
Life here is a gamble in which when you win, you lose.
Be content, that's how you beat the game.
This world is like a pair of dice,
the only reason you pick them up
is to throw them down!
Abu Saeed Abil-Khair
As we walk the good road, learning to surrender and allow life to live through us, we may encounter a temptation to exchange one form of control for another, mistaking external forms and identities for the essence of spiritual liberation. For instance, many people on the spiritual path play a game of attempting to subdue their thoughts or bodily desires by way of force, believing that by suppressing these lower instincts, they will attain a purer version of themselves. They may adopt new vows, identities, or external symbols—such as robes, feathers, foods, names, or rituals—as part of this process. However, this pursuit of a "higher self" is often just another form of identity creation. Instead of liberating the individual from the ego, it reinforces a new form of self, one that is just as constricting as the old.
When we feel drawn to conform to a particular appearance, label, community, doctrine, or even political affiliations, we are forging new chains of attachment, losing sight of the true essence of the spiritual journey—that of realising what is most essential. Authentic progress requires the dissolution of these identities and the cultivation of a state of non-attachment—or disenchantment, if you will—where we are not defined by external validations or roles.
It raises the age-old question central to many spiritual traditions: to whom are these experiences arising? Who is the experiencer? Where is the experience? When emotions such as frustration, anger, or joy arise, they are often accompanied by the declaration, "I am frustrated" or, "I am happy." But upon closer examination, the "I" becomes elusive. There is only the emotion, a sensation that moves without the need for an "I" to claim ownership of it.
Even the notion of "I am" is an abstraction—another layer of identity that attempts to grasp at experience. True liberation involves letting go of this identification entirely, releasing not just attachment to external roles but also to the idea of a stable, permanent self.
We may starve ourselves to pacify desire, perform austerities to quench relentless thirst, or discipline the body and mind into submission. Yet, this approach is often rooted in a desire to control or eliminate desires. When examined closely, however, it becomes clear that desire itself is not the enemy. Instead, it is the attachment to desire and the identification with the one who desires that creates suffering.
By investigating the origin of desires and emotions with impartiality, the knot that binds and attaches us to our preferences begins to loosen, and slowly, it unties itself. Some schools refer to the result of this unbinding as "liberation," but even that is another game which can become a new form of addiction—a new identity to cling to.
Just as compassion arises from suffering, even liberation must be born of illusion. If there is an experience of awakening, the question remains: who is awakening? The illusion of a self who awakens persists even in advanced stages of spiritual practice. True awakening reveals that there is no "one" to awaken; rather, reality is already wide awake to itself.
There is simply this plain, ordinary, and yet utterly astonishing spontaneous arising—an expression of the infinite. This is the awareness of oneness, which, if clearly seen, is the oneness of awareness itself. It is not you who is aware; awareness is aware. It is not an individual possession but an intrinsic quality of existence itself. In other words, reality is awake and realises itself to be already awake—without the notion of "you”.
***
Birth and death exist not in the mind, not in you, as do also bondage and liberation. Good and evil are in the mind, and not in you. Beloved, why do you cry? Name and form are neither in you nor in me.
Avadhuta Gita
When we realise that reality is fine without us, a humbling process begins.
Many of us dream of embarking on a hero's journey—to take up the sword and fulfil some grand destiny. But if we zoom out, or even zoom in, to the non-dual realisation, nothing separate or independent ever arises. From there, you can see there is no journey, no path, and no destination. So, who is the hero? Who is the saviour? What is there to wait for?
This doesn’t mean life is meaningless or that we should become complacent. It means we grow humble: we bow our heads lower, open our eyes wider, listen more attentively, and become quieter. When it’s no longer about us, and we stop asking, “What’s in it for me?”, the blinders fall away, and the tunnel vision opens to reveal the radiant light of reality. It means we stop engaging in the drama—the dream no longer tosses us from one pleasure to the next. The swing of the pendulum of opposites begins to slow, drawing closer to its centre. It means we stop running away. We stop searching for something to fulfil what is already full, whole, and complete. It means we stop seeking.
That doesn’t mean we can now brush off our hands, declaring the work done. It doesn’t mean the ego or secondary self is now completely clear of its defilements. It doesn’t mean the mind will be spotlessly clean from craving and thought. Nor does it mean that suffering and the awareness of suffering will vanish entirely. What it does mean is a shift—from being perpetually identified with thought to resting in the space from which thought arises. It means there is more resting in the silence than in the noise. Reality shines brighter than the obscurations of the dream in which we imagine the world to be. It means we stop imagining who we are, and settle into what already is.
