Through the practice of meditation, our awareness expands. We begin to notice new sensations and feelings and even objects. These things were always there; they just weren’t on our radar. At first, this newfound psychic sensitivity can be exciting and wondrous. When we walk into a room, we immediately know how our friend is feeling, even before she turns around. Sometimes we know who is calling on the phone without peeking at the caller-id. We not only watch the sun set, we feel the blaze of color wash through our being. As our awareness continues to expand we feel powerful and revel in our newly found psychic abilities.
Then our awareness keeps expanding. We walk into the grocery store and feel crushed by the impressions left by all the other shoppers. We arrive home and drown in our neighbor’s sorrow without even saying hello. We pick up our laundry and feel the weight of the past week’s struggles. The novelty of feeling the unseen quickly wears thin.
Some people will stop meditating, but find this intense awareness lingers. Awareness is a bell that cannot be un-rung. We know what’s out there and inside our being. We feel the suffering and we remember the bliss we felt in the silence of meditation. Abandoning the practice becomes akin to abandoning ourselves. So eventually, we begin to meditate once again.
At this point, we’ve closed our heart out of fear. We shield ourselves from the anguish and dive into meditation. It works for a while. As long as we meditate, we feel the boundless joy. Once we rise from our meditation cushion to interact with the world, we feel the pain and we hunker down, with an iron door over our heart, closed off and separate. In this pattern, there is no moving forward. There is only maintaining what little peace we can squeeze out during meditation. We pray the memories of our morning meditation will sustain us until we can return to the safety of our quiet little cave.
To move forward, we must open our heart.
We can take tiny baby steps, learning control and inaccessibility. We can live openly, overflowing with joy and peace.
We begin by first placing our awareness on our subtle body. This is the area of energy surrounding our physical body that senses the unseen world. We can control this part of our being, just as we can control our hand. With our mind, we visualize this area and pull it close to our physical body so it rests within an arm’s length. We practice walking around with our subtle body tucked in tightly, noticing how it feels when it bounces off of other people and places and things. We continue to practice holding the subtle body tight to the physical until we do this without thinking about it.
Before each meditation we clear the lines that have become attached to our subtle body. We imagine a pair of scissors, or a knife, or a sword, or other cutting device and simply lop them off like trimming a loose thread. We don’t worry about the other end of the line. We just let the line connected to us fall away. Over time, we may notice when one of these lines first attaches. If we do feel one become attached, then we simply cut it and let it fall away. We don’t worry about where it came from or why it’s there. We just take care of the part that’s connected to our subtle body by clipping it and letting it drop away. We continue to practice this until we do it without thinking about it.
With this level of control we begin to notice that we feel the suffering of the world only when we are in proximity to it. When we are out walking on the beach or through the park, we don’t feel it. We are once again enjoying the beautiful sensations of the unseen world. We discover we can find refuge whenever we need it in any place where we can be alone.
Inaccessibility
When we’re ready to move forward again, we open the heart wide and practice inaccessibility. Inaccessibility has nothing to do with secrecy or hiding who we are. Anyone can ask us anything, and we can answer however much or little we want. We are not hung up on ourselves. There is no one to fight and no one to impress. Being inaccessible means to stand and walk completely open and aware of all that is, without pushing out any personal agenda.
When we feel uncomfortable, we look first at what we are pushing out. What is it that we feel is wrong? What is not going in the direction we think it should be? What are we trying to control? By asking these questions of our Self, we discover the attachment that is causing us to be accessible to suffering.
Once we know what personal agenda we are pushing out into the world, we can decide to let go of it. We can let it fall away, just like the lines that get tangled in our subtle body.
Or we can separate from the agenda and still present it to the world. Sometimes we are moved to act for a cause or to take up a project. We can do this and remain inaccessible. The agenda we push is not a representation of our Self; it is no longer personal. It is simply the play of God. If someone praises it, then we enjoy the praise, knowing it has nothing to do with us. If someone bashes it, then we watch the bashing carefully and look for weaknesses in our agenda, knowing it has nothing to do with us.
We share the message or complete the project with excitement for the sake of the project, not with excitement about our own ego. We know we are whole and complete in and of ourselves. The agenda we carry in this way is joyful and fun, no matter what happens. We are so wide open that we become All and there is no one to access; thus we are inaccessible.
We meditate, letting go into the silent stillness of bliss. We participate in the world, open and aware, letting go of all attachments as they reveal themselves. We live with psychic sensitivity through inaccessibility. The iron wall melts, the knots untie, and the heart opens. Bliss and peace radiate to all.
~jenna sundell 7/17/12
Thank you for posting this. I felt some of my attachments fall away as I read this and realized that I was holding on to some of them unaware. I do have some questions about this topic, if I may ask.
Perhaps you can clear up some confusion on my part. When I read journey to Ixtlan, it seemed to me that Don Juan was teaching Carlos about inaccessibility, but he also taught him accessibility. For example, he told Carlos that becoming accessible to the wind at dusk, could aid a hunter by keeping him awake all night, if that was what was needed.
On the path, we seem to emphasize inaccessibility more so than accessibility for reasons that you mentioned. But is being accessible necessarily egotistical? Does it necessarily invite suffering?
Thank you for the comment and question!
In the context used by Castaneda in your example, he is showing what I described as “being open” to the environment. It would be silly to face the wind and push our agenda upon it. The result would be an exhaustion of energy without any benefit, leaving us feeling frustrated and drained. On the other hand, if we simply open to the wind without attachment, it can purify us and energize us.