Seeing through “me” stories

When we start to examine all the stories in our head and see their illusory nature, we lose interest in them. Indeed, we are only motivated in repeating the same thing all over again if we believe it is true or if there is some emotional feedback to it. When thoughts are seen for what they are – merely thoughts, fleeting, ever-changing, lacking any substance in anything but other mental constructions and judgements (including the never ending description of “me”) – there is no power left in them to drive us into some emotional spin. It is simply not true. Period. Gradually, these thoughts become just like a rustling of old autumn leaves; no power, no attachment, just a habit that ceases to exist without reinforcement.

We start to experience fewer thoughts, there are still practical ones, about food, accommodation, tickets, meetings, job … but, in reality, thinking about these things doesn’t take much space or time. Without compulsive loops of emotionally charged thought patterns, it becomes silent and peaceful, spacious and calm inside. This silence in the background, never really noticed before, seems to grow and change in its texture and feel. From just silence to all pervasive feeling of well-being. Like everything is well, no matter what. All is well, even knowing that everything is very temporary and fleeting, and we all are going to face that unknown called “death” with 100 percent certainty. Strangely and paradoxically, it is all well anyway; there is simply nothing frightening about it without scary stories.

With time, this sense of well-being is replaced by deep quiet shining joy and peace. The kind of peace which is truly “beyond understanding”. You start to feel the movement of the world, the flowing of life, simple pull to do something or go somewhere. You start to feel guidance from inside without any justifications, without theories and conceptual explanations about merits or usefulness. Everything becomes so simple, natural, pure and spacious. Looking back and remembering all the strife, drama, and suffering you can’t help asking yourself “what was it all about?”

Nelli Kite

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