The Metaphor of the Moth and the Flame from the media The Infinite's Love Child

A man asks if his understanding is correct that when in stillness, he receives love, beauty and peace, and this is how God speaks to him, adding that he felt like God was his co-author while writing his first novel. Rupert affirms his understanding and explains that once one has become familiar with their craft, in the man’s case - writing, one doesn’t have to struggle to find words – they come with the same ease as breathing or walking. These effortless creative moments arise because of the great efforts made to master the craft.

A man shares that he can maintain awareness of sounds but loses it with his thoughts. Rupert invites him to transpose the same awareness he has of external sounds to his thoughts. He guides him to generate some thoughts and consciously remain aware of them, treating them just as he would any external sound.

A man shares two experiences, one of intense peace and another of overwhelming love. He asks if his false self is imposing words onto his experience of being. Rupert assures him the experiences were genuine, explaining that the mind, having been struck by something, tries to articulate it. Strictly speaking, being has no qualities; it knows only ‘I am’. However, the mind, in its normal state of agitation and separation, conceptualises peace as the absence of agitation and love as the absence of separation. Thus, it’s legitimate to ascribe qualities such as peace and love to being, though being itself is without qualities.

A man shares how witnessing the suffering of others brings pain and a desire to alleviate it, and asks if this pain is an argument with reality. Rupert says that compassion means to feel with another, to experience their joy and suffering as your own. To truly feel it, one must be empty of their own experience. The sorrow one feels in compassion is not a sorrow generated by the separate self, but rather the natural feeling that arises from this openness.

A woman expresses that she finds it easy to abide as being but struggles with witnessing her experience, as it requires effort and fades. She asks if it is important to develop the witness. Rupert clarifies that it is not necessary for her to stand as the witness because the purpose of witnessing is for those who lose themselves in experience, overlooking their being. He explains the teaching suggests separating oneself from experience as a first step, and the second step is to recognise the nature of awareness, tasting the peace of being, and then returning to experience while remaining as being.

A man, recalling the conversation about how life continually shapes itself in the form of repeating patterns of experience, asks what taking responsibility in that context looks like. Rupert explains that taking responsibility means not projecting the emotional pattern inside oneself onto the other person, because doing so prevents seeing the true cause, which lies within oneself. When one stops projecting this pattern onto others and sees it clearly in oneself, the pattern is disarmed.

A woman shares an observation that relates to the second meditation earlier that day. She describes how it didn’t matter what the experience looked like or was made of, whether it caused pain or not – it was the experience of deep friendship, and there was a taste of freedom she had never felt in all her previous meditations. Although she cannot re-conjure the feeling or awareness since then, its fragrance remains, and she feels it has uprooted a belief in her heart that separation would consume her upon returning to the world. Rupert thanks her for sharing it so beautifully, saying he doesn’t want to touch it with his words.

A woman describes how she used to make an effort to police her mind, suppressing desires that came from the ego, and felt as though she was divorcing the world to abide in being. Now, when she hears that ‘nothing is real’, she stumbles, although her understanding is that everything experienced is beingness. Her question is about living this understanding while old conditioning still arises. Rupert says that when these old patterns arise, she should investigate the self on whose behalf they arise, turning attention inward to explore the hurt self.

A man asks if witnessing in the context of the Pathless Path leads somewhere. Rupert explains that when one is lost in experience, the first step is to separate from experience and know oneself as the knower, the observer, the witness. The second step is to turn attention away from objects and investigate the subject – which is self-enquiry. This process takes one deeper into oneself until there is just being. At this point, there is no more investigation, no path – just abiding in being.

A man asks how to fall asleep whilst remaining awake. Rupert explains that falling asleep is relaxation, a letting go. The first thing that happens when one falls asleep is that perceptions leave, followed by sensations. Then, one enters the dream state, and as thoughts and images leave one is left alone with oneself, simply being aware. Meditation, Rupert says, is exactly the same process – letting go of perceiving, sensing and thinking, remaining as being, in deep sleep but wide awake.

A woman asks, given that there is only being in reality, if being truly left a trace in us. Rupert says that the idea of being leaving only a trace is a concession to those who feel separate from being. In truth, the infinite doesn’t just leave a trace – it is all that there is. It’s not that being leaves something behind; it is being itself, fully present, appearing as the finite. The finite is the infinite’s love child, infinite cannot help but love it.

A man shares a poem by Ibn ‘Arabi, The Theophany of Perfection, and asks about the notion of consciousness loving the separate self. Rupert says that for the one, there is no separate self. If there were a finite mind, the one would cease to be one. The infinite knows nothing of the finite; infinite experiences only its own being.

A man speaks about the fear of personal death that arises when he experiences his being as contained inside his body-mind. He asks if he will always oscillate between this fear and the absence of it. Rupert says that as one sinks deeper into being, the fear doesn’t dramatically vanish but gradually shows up less and less. It’s not a sudden, marvellous experience of being free from fear; rather, it fades quietly, like a headache that’s gone without notice.

A man questions Rupert’s perspective on the nature of matter, expressing that while he agrees everything must be made of awareness, he struggles with how this fits with scientific mechanisms. Rupert agrees, explaining that the universe is what the activity of infinite consciousness looks like from the perspective of a finite mind, where the mind perceives reality but creates its appearance. He acknowledges that while we try to model reality with our finite minds, there is always an explanatory gap between these models and the infinite experience of itself, where there is no creation, movement, or manifestation – only the pure knowledge ‘I am’.

A man asks if his understanding is correct that when in stillness, he receives love, beauty and peace, and this is how God speaks to him, adding that he felt like God was his co-author while writing his first novel. Rupert affirms his understanding and explains that once one has become familiar with their craft, in the man’s case - writing, one doesn’t have to struggle to find words – they come with the same ease as breathing or walking. These effortless creative moments arise because of the great efforts made to master the craft.

A man shares that he can maintain awareness of sounds but loses it with his thoughts. Rupert invites him to transpose the same awareness he has of external sounds to his thoughts. He guides him to generate some thoughts and consciously remain aware of them, treating them just as he would any external sound.

A man shares two experiences, one of intense peace and another of overwhelming love. He asks if his false self is imposing words onto his experience of being. Rupert assures him the experiences were genuine, explaining that the mind, having been struck by something, tries to articulate it. Strictly speaking, being has no qualities; it knows only ‘I am’. However, the mind, in its normal state of agitation and separation, conceptualises peace as the absence of agitation and love as the absence of separation. Thus, it’s legitimate to ascribe qualities such as peace and love to being, though being itself is without qualities.

A man shares how witnessing the suffering of others brings pain and a desire to alleviate it, and asks if this pain is an argument with reality. Rupert says that compassion means to feel with another, to experience their joy and suffering as your own. To truly feel it, one must be empty of their own experience. The sorrow one feels in compassion is not a sorrow generated by the separate self, but rather the natural feeling that arises from this openness.

A woman expresses that she finds it easy to abide as being but struggles with witnessing her experience, as it requires effort and fades. She asks if it is important to develop the witness. Rupert clarifies that it is not necessary for her to stand as the witness because the purpose of witnessing is for those who lose themselves in experience, overlooking their being. He explains the teaching suggests separating oneself from experience as a first step, and the second step is to recognise the nature of awareness, tasting the peace of being, and then returning to experience while remaining as being.

A man, recalling the conversation about how life continually shapes itself in the form of repeating patterns of experience, asks what taking responsibility in that context looks like. Rupert explains that taking responsibility means not projecting the emotional pattern inside oneself onto the other person, because doing so prevents seeing the true cause, which lies within oneself. When one stops projecting this pattern onto others and sees it clearly in oneself, the pattern is disarmed.

A woman shares an observation that relates to the second meditation earlier that day. She describes how it didn’t matter what the experience looked like or was made of, whether it caused pain or not – it was the experience of deep friendship, and there was a taste of freedom she had never felt in all her previous meditations. Although she cannot re-conjure the feeling or awareness since then, its fragrance remains, and she feels it has uprooted a belief in her heart that separation would consume her upon returning to the world. Rupert thanks her for sharing it so beautifully, saying he doesn’t want to touch it with his words.

A woman describes how she used to make an effort to police her mind, suppressing desires that came from the ego, and felt as though she was divorcing the world to abide in being. Now, when she hears that ‘nothing is real’, she stumbles, although her understanding is that everything experienced is beingness. Her question is about living this understanding while old conditioning still arises. Rupert says that when these old patterns arise, she should investigate the self on whose behalf they arise, turning attention inward to explore the hurt self.

A man asks if witnessing in the context of the Pathless Path leads somewhere. Rupert explains that when one is lost in experience, the first step is to separate from experience and know oneself as the knower, the observer, the witness. The second step is to turn attention away from objects and investigate the subject – which is self-enquiry. This process takes one deeper into oneself until there is just being. At this point, there is no more investigation, no path – just abiding in being.

A man asks how to fall asleep whilst remaining awake. Rupert explains that falling asleep is relaxation, a letting go. The first thing that happens when one falls asleep is that perceptions leave, followed by sensations. Then, one enters the dream state, and as thoughts and images leave one is left alone with oneself, simply being aware. Meditation, Rupert says, is exactly the same process – letting go of perceiving, sensing and thinking, remaining as being, in deep sleep but wide awake.

A woman asks, given that there is only being in reality, if being truly left a trace in us. Rupert says that the idea of being leaving only a trace is a concession to those who feel separate from being. In truth, the infinite doesn’t just leave a trace – it is all that there is. It’s not that being leaves something behind; it is being itself, fully present, appearing as the finite. The finite is the infinite’s love child, infinite cannot help but love it.

A man shares a poem by Ibn ‘Arabi, The Theophany of Perfection, and asks about the notion of consciousness loving the separate self. Rupert says that for the one, there is no separate self. If there were a finite mind, the one would cease to be one. The infinite knows nothing of the finite; infinite experiences only its own being.

A man speaks about the fear of personal death that arises when he experiences his being as contained inside his body-mind. He asks if he will always oscillate between this fear and the absence of it. Rupert says that as one sinks deeper into being, the fear doesn’t dramatically vanish but gradually shows up less and less. It’s not a sudden, marvellous experience of being free from fear; rather, it fades quietly, like a headache that’s gone without notice.

A man questions Rupert’s perspective on the nature of matter, expressing that while he agrees everything must be made of awareness, he struggles with how this fits with scientific mechanisms. Rupert agrees, explaining that the universe is what the activity of infinite consciousness looks like from the perspective of a finite mind, where the mind perceives reality but creates its appearance. He acknowledges that while we try to model reality with our finite minds, there is always an explanatory gap between these models and the infinite experience of itself, where there is no creation, movement, or manifestation – only the pure knowledge ‘I am’.