Practising Love Outside the Community from the media A Wordless Prayer

A woman expresses heartfelt gratitude to Rupert for the meditation earlier that day, sharing that it was the most incredible experience of her life. She describes feeling taken over by the meditation, as if her mind was dissolving into love, and that it has left her profoundly changed. Rupert thanks her in return and shares that the meditation emerged spontaneously, crediting the openness and presence of the group for drawing it out, allowing him to go deeper than he would with many other audiences.

A woman comments on Rupert’s intuitive quality when engaging with others and asks whether it comes from being or mind. Rupert responds that it ultimately comes from being but is filtered through the mind. Discussing his leading of spontaneous guided meditations, he explains that when a skill is deeply mastered, like dancing or playing music, one can forget it and go off-piste, beyond rules.

A man asks if everything impermanent is considered an illusion. Rupert agrees, explaining that although forms come and go, they are not separate from reality. He likens this to a landscape in a movie – what appears as diverse objects is, in fact, only the screen. There can only be what is real: one infinite being, ever-present and unchanging.

A man asks Rupert to elaborate on his use of the word ‘experience’. Rupert explains that he typically uses it to describe objective experience, such as thoughts, feelings, sensations, and perceptions. He mentions that on rare occasions, he speaks of the ‘experience of being’ to make the teaching accessible to newcomers but later shifts to ‘awareness of being’, which he feels is more accurate and true to his teaching.

A woman asks Rupert if there was something more to what he meant when speaking the other day about holding another’s sorrow. Rupert explains that when we hold another’s sorrow in our awareness as our own, because ultimately there is only one mind, it has an effect. He speaks of allowing it to be dissolved in awareness. However, he clarifies that in most cases this alone may not be sufficient, as the other person may still need to do more themselves.

A man mentions an energetic impulse of seeking that Rupert spoke of – something that will never be satisfied. Rupert responds that even after recognising our true nature, there can still be a subtle seeking impulse at the core. It’s the root of our thoughts, always pulling us away from stillness. He encourages being aware of it without touching it, letting it dissolve naturally in the presence of pure being, like waves merging back into the ocean.

A woman refers to a statement Rupert recited from T.S. Eliot, ‘Wait without hope, because hope would always be hope for the wrong thing.’ She describes reading Brother Lawrence and reflects on her own journey, saying she hasn’t fully surrendered like Brother Lawrence. She shares that Rupert’s words clarify for her the need to accept and let go into hopelessness without striving for any particular ideal. Rupert thanks her for the sharing.

A man asks if the radical answer Rupert provided earlier can be applied to frustration in meditation. Rupert replies by asking the man to look for the self that feels frustrated or lonely. He explains that this self, when observed deeply, is not limited or constrained, just as the space in a room cannot be constrained by the four walls. The self, like space, is ultimately vast and unconstrained.

A man asks about the nature of attention – who is asked to pay or withdraw attention, and what is its source? Rupert explains that attention involves a subject-object relationship. As attention relaxes and returns to its source, like the space in a room withdrawing from its walls and objects, it recognises itself as the one universal space. In the pure experience of being, there are no limits; we recognise our nature as infinite being.

A man speaks of his struggle with anger and wonders if seeing it as separate is justifying it. Rupert gently guides him to see that recognising ‘I am experiencing anger’ reveals that anger is not who he truly is. He invites him to rest in the peaceful nature of his being, free of all anger. Each time one returns to this loving awareness, one is robbing the anger of its fuel, weakening its power, until it can no longer rise.

A woman shares that she followed Rupert’s suggestion to go deeply into the ‘place where we are one’ when her neighbour cut down her trees. The next day, their relationship was instantly and miraculously healed. She describes it as a wordless prayer. Rupert responds that it is indeed a prayer – feeling that their shared being is God’s being, the only being there is.

A woman expresses her confusion about the nature of being and whether qualities such as peace, joy and love can be attributed to it. Rupert clarifies that these qualities are only spoken of in contrast to our usual state of mind, which is characterised by agitation, sorrow, and conflict. He explains that being itself has no experience of these contrasts, so it wouldn’t describe itself as peace, joy or love. The only true statement being can make about itself, if it could speak, is ‘I am’, which is the highest and ultimate truth.

A man asks Rupert about the nature of attention, mentioning that he often finds himself lost in thoughts of the future and wonders if it is the same attention that becomes aware of being. Rupert explains that attention is not the faculty with which we are aware of our being. Using the metaphor of the sun illuminating itself, he clarifies that awareness knows itself simply by being itself. He speaks of ‘knowingbeing, awarebeing, beingaware’, each in one word, as he did in his first book, The Transparency of Things, highlighting that awareness and being are one.

A man speaks of the deep grief he felt after losing his daughter, sharing how in the early stages, she would come to him in dreams, and they would communicate without words. He describes feeling her presence and a silent language that he could only perceive when he was in a state of being – free of thought. He wonders if this language exists beyond the finite mind. Rupert acknowledges the sensitivity he speaks of, explaining that profound grief or quiet presence in nature can silence the mind’s drama, revealing a hidden, silent language. He relates this to a realm that cannot be expressed in conventional language, one that artists try to make visible through their work.

A woman expresses heartfelt gratitude to Rupert for the meditation earlier that day, sharing that it was the most incredible experience of her life. She describes feeling taken over by the meditation, as if her mind was dissolving into love, and that it has left her profoundly changed. Rupert thanks her in return and shares that the meditation emerged spontaneously, crediting the openness and presence of the group for drawing it out, allowing him to go deeper than he would with many other audiences.

A woman comments on Rupert’s intuitive quality when engaging with others and asks whether it comes from being or mind. Rupert responds that it ultimately comes from being but is filtered through the mind. Discussing his leading of spontaneous guided meditations, he explains that when a skill is deeply mastered, like dancing or playing music, one can forget it and go off-piste, beyond rules.

A man asks if everything impermanent is considered an illusion. Rupert agrees, explaining that although forms come and go, they are not separate from reality. He likens this to a landscape in a movie – what appears as diverse objects is, in fact, only the screen. There can only be what is real: one infinite being, ever-present and unchanging.

A man asks Rupert to elaborate on his use of the word ‘experience’. Rupert explains that he typically uses it to describe objective experience, such as thoughts, feelings, sensations, and perceptions. He mentions that on rare occasions, he speaks of the ‘experience of being’ to make the teaching accessible to newcomers but later shifts to ‘awareness of being’, which he feels is more accurate and true to his teaching.

A woman asks Rupert if there was something more to what he meant when speaking the other day about holding another’s sorrow. Rupert explains that when we hold another’s sorrow in our awareness as our own, because ultimately there is only one mind, it has an effect. He speaks of allowing it to be dissolved in awareness. However, he clarifies that in most cases this alone may not be sufficient, as the other person may still need to do more themselves.

A man mentions an energetic impulse of seeking that Rupert spoke of – something that will never be satisfied. Rupert responds that even after recognising our true nature, there can still be a subtle seeking impulse at the core. It’s the root of our thoughts, always pulling us away from stillness. He encourages being aware of it without touching it, letting it dissolve naturally in the presence of pure being, like waves merging back into the ocean.

A woman refers to a statement Rupert recited from T.S. Eliot, ‘Wait without hope, because hope would always be hope for the wrong thing.’ She describes reading Brother Lawrence and reflects on her own journey, saying she hasn’t fully surrendered like Brother Lawrence. She shares that Rupert’s words clarify for her the need to accept and let go into hopelessness without striving for any particular ideal. Rupert thanks her for the sharing.

A man asks if the radical answer Rupert provided earlier can be applied to frustration in meditation. Rupert replies by asking the man to look for the self that feels frustrated or lonely. He explains that this self, when observed deeply, is not limited or constrained, just as the space in a room cannot be constrained by the four walls. The self, like space, is ultimately vast and unconstrained.

A man asks about the nature of attention – who is asked to pay or withdraw attention, and what is its source? Rupert explains that attention involves a subject-object relationship. As attention relaxes and returns to its source, like the space in a room withdrawing from its walls and objects, it recognises itself as the one universal space. In the pure experience of being, there are no limits; we recognise our nature as infinite being.

A man speaks of his struggle with anger and wonders if seeing it as separate is justifying it. Rupert gently guides him to see that recognising ‘I am experiencing anger’ reveals that anger is not who he truly is. He invites him to rest in the peaceful nature of his being, free of all anger. Each time one returns to this loving awareness, one is robbing the anger of its fuel, weakening its power, until it can no longer rise.

A woman shares that she followed Rupert’s suggestion to go deeply into the ‘place where we are one’ when her neighbour cut down her trees. The next day, their relationship was instantly and miraculously healed. She describes it as a wordless prayer. Rupert responds that it is indeed a prayer – feeling that their shared being is God’s being, the only being there is.

A woman expresses her confusion about the nature of being and whether qualities such as peace, joy and love can be attributed to it. Rupert clarifies that these qualities are only spoken of in contrast to our usual state of mind, which is characterised by agitation, sorrow, and conflict. He explains that being itself has no experience of these contrasts, so it wouldn’t describe itself as peace, joy or love. The only true statement being can make about itself, if it could speak, is ‘I am’, which is the highest and ultimate truth.

A man asks Rupert about the nature of attention, mentioning that he often finds himself lost in thoughts of the future and wonders if it is the same attention that becomes aware of being. Rupert explains that attention is not the faculty with which we are aware of our being. Using the metaphor of the sun illuminating itself, he clarifies that awareness knows itself simply by being itself. He speaks of ‘knowingbeing, awarebeing, beingaware’, each in one word, as he did in his first book, The Transparency of Things, highlighting that awareness and being are one.

A man speaks of the deep grief he felt after losing his daughter, sharing how in the early stages, she would come to him in dreams, and they would communicate without words. He describes feeling her presence and a silent language that he could only perceive when he was in a state of being – free of thought. He wonders if this language exists beyond the finite mind. Rupert acknowledges the sensitivity he speaks of, explaining that profound grief or quiet presence in nature can silence the mind’s drama, revealing a hidden, silent language. He relates this to a realm that cannot be expressed in conventional language, one that artists try to make visible through their work.