Sitting on the patio during a drizzle, the wind suddenly picks up, the rain falls hard, and there’s a feeling of almost fury about the earth.

Though gusts were spraying me occasionally, it wasn’t cold, and after half an hour I didn’t want to come in. There hadn’t been a trace of blue, or even any contrast in the solid wall of grayness, but suddenly the skies brightened with an otherworldly whitish hue. It was sunset.

The land, wind-whipped trees and featureless sky felt sacramental, and for a few minutes the earth held the infinite mystery of the universe itself.

Thought, knowledge and experience had grown still in undivided observation and undirected attention. Watching the movement of the mind and emotions without interference but with intensity aligned in some measure with the storm, and the habitual and noisy operations the brain essentially ceased.

There are three movements of consciousness, though most people only know one. There is the movement of thought/emotion and the entire content of consciousness, which includes knowledge and experience, as well as tradition, belief and opinion, which we all know.

Then there is movement of negation, which is the quieting and emptying of irrelevant and harmful content during methodless, observer-less meditation.

Finally, there is the movement of sacredness that comes when the entire content of consciousness is not operating, and is completely still.

Essentially, the movement of thought, knowledge and experience, however logical and reasonable, is the movement of separation. It has its place in making the world, even creating art, but carried over to the psychological dimension, it fragments nature and divides humanity.

Attention without the infinite regress of the observer to the movement of thought/emotion initiates the movement of negation, at least temporarily ending the separative movement of thought. In turn, the movement of negation ignites a meditative state in which there is communion with something beyond thought and mundane existence.

Of course the existence of the sacred can never be proven, but only a dogmatically materialistic mindset insists on proof of spiritual realities before even allowing the possibility of their existence. Such a mind is no different than the believer’s mind, which is equally blocked from experiencing inviolability by the impacted conditioning of centuries of beliefs and traditions.

Most educated people now believe there are only the meanings we create, that there’s nothing beyond the human mind. Absolute chance and purposeless evolution rule life and the universe in this rigid view, which has parallels with the nihilism of authoritarianism.

Awe and wonder do not just have their source in the human mind however. When thought is deeply quiet, an intimation of awe and wonder is awakened in one’s backyard, or sitting in a room at dusk in the dying light of the day.

Meditation is not about stress reduction; it’s about having a truly religious life. But one has to sustain a certain unforced diligence. In practical terms, that means devoting a half hour each day to passive observation, during which one sets everything aside. Meditation is a phenomenon, not a practice, but one has to make and take the space for it to occur.

Meditation is based on understanding how to observe one’s own mind and heart. Normally we choose what to think about, and think we are free in our ability to choose. But who or what chooses? It is our conditioning from the separate, illusory ‘me’ that chooses. There is no freedom in choosing, only in choiceless awareness.

Whether you feel good or bad, take a half hour and sit outside if you have a place and the weather permits, or in a room at dusk in a city. Let the senses come to what’s actually occurring in the present externally and internally. If the noise of the world isn’t overwhelming, listen to every sound as it comes. Sound is an excellent teacher.

When your senses have come into the present, and you’re simply listening to the sounds as they reach your ears without even naming them, let attention come to the movement of your thoughts and emotions in the same way.

It’s like watching a rushing creek with leaves and debris in it go by -- you don’t jump in and try to do something about the leaves and debris, you just let them flow by.

That’s how to observe the mind, and the very action of watching without choosing, judging or naming acts on the movement of thought, quieting the mind and emptying the heart of its burdens.

I find it helps to have a pad and jot things down to clear away details and less important things. That allows space, which naturally orders in the mind.

Things will come to mind when you sit down, things like details about work, things you have to do later, problems, replays of conversations, etc. If you jot them down with the intent to deal look afresh at them later, when the time is right, then space opens up in the mind and heart. At minimum, one is less burdened, and the mind is less noisy.

The essential thing is not to direct your observation or choose the things you think about. Let everything flow by in the passive watchfulness – memories, associations and emotions. Just listen and watch, outwardly and inwardly, without the division of observer/self.

With persistence, and without goal or idea, something tremendous happens–a radical change in consciousness. That benefits not only the brain and body of the individual, but to some small degree (since our consciousness is not separate from collective consciousness) the whole of humanity as well.

Martin LeFevre

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