To Keep the Understanding Alive from the media The Great Surrender Is Just Being

A man asks how Rupert defines intelligence and whether he distinguishes between absolute and relative intelligence. Rupert responds that absolute intelligence is pure consciousness, which becomes relative intelligence when refracted through the mind. Relative intelligence is obscured by the sense of separation, appearing as ignorance. The highest form of intelligence, Rupert explains, is pure luminosity, pure knowing without an object.

A man speaks of a lingering sense of progression or longing, even though he knows he is where he wants to be. Rupert says this is a raw, energetic impulse that is the tenacious core of the separate self. This impulse persists as long as there is a belief in separation. He explains that both the Direct and Progressive Paths give the separate self something to do, but the Pathless Path they have been following during the retreat does not credit or acknowledge the separate self, allowing this longing to dissolve.

A man shares how his question on birth, death and the infinite being was answered earlier but mentions how deeply it moved him, breaking him open. He speaks of loss and his friend in hospice, asking Rupert what he would say to him in his last moments. Rupert says that the great surrender is just being. He explains there is no seeking or becoming in just being. He compares the experience of being at birth and death and concludes that both are the same, a state of ultimate surrender, where nothing remains but being itself.

A woman reflects on Brother Lawrence’s surrender, which she thought was complete, but now sees as an ongoing effort. She wonders if her turning to God is an activity. Rupert affirms Brother Lawrence’s surrender as the highest state of a seemingly separate self, but contrasts it with the effortless nature of the guided meditation they did that morning, which was not a practice but simply the nature of being. He reassures that Brother Lawrence’s practice was equally valid, saying that God would be equally happy with both paths.

A woman asks about ignoring her own presence, enquiring how it works to overlook the self-aware being. Rupert explains that we tend to forget our being when we focus solely on thoughts and perceptions, falling asleep to our true nature. The waking state, Rupert says, is like a kind of sleep. Awareness, though ever-present, becomes veiled by sense perception, causing us to overlook the reality of ourselves. He compares this to the dream state, where awareness imagines a world and simultaneously loses itself in it.

A man shares a humorous prayer by Douglas Harding, the British mystic, describing how in the morning, one looks in the mirror after getting ready, and once satisfied, says, ‘Thank God, I don’t look like that.’ Rupert remarks that it is very characteristic of Douglas Harding.

A woman asks about feeling love for others but noticing they still appear as separate individuals, not as herself. She wonders if it is possible to see others as sharing her being. Rupert explains that while the illusion of separation remains, ignorance dissolves. Even great beings like the Buddha or Anandamayi Ma would perceive the world similarly. He suggests that we must override the apparent evidence of sense perception with our felt understanding.

A man asks if the Pathless Path is at the highest level, followed by the Direct Path and the Progressive Path. Rupert explains that the Pathless Path starts and remains in the understanding that there is only one reality. It doesn’t accommodate the assumption of a separate self. He quotes Meister Eckhart: ‘When we come to the one that gathers all things into itself, there we must stay’. The practice is simply being – starting with the One, which is reality itself, and staying there.

A woman asks if it makes sense to mix different practices, expressing her concern about reifying the separate self through certain practices. Rupert says that he respects all practices, explaining that he spent many years on the Progressive Path and would never suggest anyone stop what they find helpful. He encourages her to follow her intuition, saying everyone should take the path they find easiest and most enjoyable. He also mentions it’s fine to mix practices for a while, as one will naturally gravitate towards what resonates most deeply.

A woman shares her sense of responsibility for love, people, the world, even the chair. She describes an indestructible light within her, present since her last retreat, like a small seed of peace. When she feels the weight of responsibility, she turns to forgiving herself, and this brings her a feeling of completeness. Rupert affirms her reflection, agreeing that everything is okay.

A man asks if the yoga meditations Rupert used to do were part of the Progressive Path. Rupert says not quite, as they accompanied the Direct Path. He explains the inward-facing path is self-enquiry, the first step, and the outward-facing path brings that recognition into life – thoughts, feelings, relationships. The yoga meditations were not a way to recognise our true nature, but to infuse our life with our understanding. Over time, the distinction between inward and outward-facing paths blurred, and now they have merged completely.

A woman asks about leading meditations for people who are more activated or traumatised. Rupert suggests focusing on the body. He recommends tailoring teachings to the individual or group, noting that this group has a deep understanding, so they haven’t needed more basic methods like self-enquiry. He advises not to assume simplicity is unsuitable, and to guide others by resting in being. If this approach causes resistance, teachers should then adjust their methods accordingly.

A woman asks about Rupert’s previous statement regarding there being no enlightenment. Rupert explains that awakening is not an event or experience, but the recognition of the nature of being. This recognition may impact the body or mind in dramatic or subtle ways, but the recognition itself remains empty and transparent.

A man asks about Rupert’s relationship with reading, noting that he has read a lot and can quote many texts. Rupert shares that he no longer reads as much as he once did, having previously read voraciously. Now, if a book isn’t worth reading three times, it’s not worth reading once. He compares it to listening to a Bach prelude or Beethoven piece, explaining that even though he knows it by heart, he still returns to it for the sheer joy of hearing truth expressed in a beautiful way.

A man remembers the retreats from back in the day, when Rupert would recite poems from Blake, Wordsworth, Shelley and others. He shares how much he enjoyed those moments and misses them now. Rupert humorously says that these poets didn’t want to make another trip to America. He reassures the man that the poems may return one day, sharing a personal routine of reading poetry in the quiet hours of the night.

A woman thanks Rupert for not allowing them to sanctify him and acknowledges his statement that this is the age of the Pathless Path. Rupert suggests it is also the age of the friend, not the teacher. He reflects that this intuition arises from decades of witnessing the spiritual community’s deepening maturity. He recalls how teachings, once wrapped in Indian tradition, have gradually shed their cultural and spiritual packaging.

A man asks how Rupert defines intelligence and whether he distinguishes between absolute and relative intelligence. Rupert responds that absolute intelligence is pure consciousness, which becomes relative intelligence when refracted through the mind. Relative intelligence is obscured by the sense of separation, appearing as ignorance. The highest form of intelligence, Rupert explains, is pure luminosity, pure knowing without an object.

A man speaks of a lingering sense of progression or longing, even though he knows he is where he wants to be. Rupert says this is a raw, energetic impulse that is the tenacious core of the separate self. This impulse persists as long as there is a belief in separation. He explains that both the Direct and Progressive Paths give the separate self something to do, but the Pathless Path they have been following during the retreat does not credit or acknowledge the separate self, allowing this longing to dissolve.

A man shares how his question on birth, death and the infinite being was answered earlier but mentions how deeply it moved him, breaking him open. He speaks of loss and his friend in hospice, asking Rupert what he would say to him in his last moments. Rupert says that the great surrender is just being. He explains there is no seeking or becoming in just being. He compares the experience of being at birth and death and concludes that both are the same, a state of ultimate surrender, where nothing remains but being itself.

A woman reflects on Brother Lawrence’s surrender, which she thought was complete, but now sees as an ongoing effort. She wonders if her turning to God is an activity. Rupert affirms Brother Lawrence’s surrender as the highest state of a seemingly separate self, but contrasts it with the effortless nature of the guided meditation they did that morning, which was not a practice but simply the nature of being. He reassures that Brother Lawrence’s practice was equally valid, saying that God would be equally happy with both paths.

A woman asks about ignoring her own presence, enquiring how it works to overlook the self-aware being. Rupert explains that we tend to forget our being when we focus solely on thoughts and perceptions, falling asleep to our true nature. The waking state, Rupert says, is like a kind of sleep. Awareness, though ever-present, becomes veiled by sense perception, causing us to overlook the reality of ourselves. He compares this to the dream state, where awareness imagines a world and simultaneously loses itself in it.

A man shares a humorous prayer by Douglas Harding, the British mystic, describing how in the morning, one looks in the mirror after getting ready, and once satisfied, says, ‘Thank God, I don’t look like that.’ Rupert remarks that it is very characteristic of Douglas Harding.

A woman asks about feeling love for others but noticing they still appear as separate individuals, not as herself. She wonders if it is possible to see others as sharing her being. Rupert explains that while the illusion of separation remains, ignorance dissolves. Even great beings like the Buddha or Anandamayi Ma would perceive the world similarly. He suggests that we must override the apparent evidence of sense perception with our felt understanding.

A man asks if the Pathless Path is at the highest level, followed by the Direct Path and the Progressive Path. Rupert explains that the Pathless Path starts and remains in the understanding that there is only one reality. It doesn’t accommodate the assumption of a separate self. He quotes Meister Eckhart: ‘When we come to the one that gathers all things into itself, there we must stay’. The practice is simply being – starting with the One, which is reality itself, and staying there.

A woman asks if it makes sense to mix different practices, expressing her concern about reifying the separate self through certain practices. Rupert says that he respects all practices, explaining that he spent many years on the Progressive Path and would never suggest anyone stop what they find helpful. He encourages her to follow her intuition, saying everyone should take the path they find easiest and most enjoyable. He also mentions it’s fine to mix practices for a while, as one will naturally gravitate towards what resonates most deeply.

A woman shares her sense of responsibility for love, people, the world, even the chair. She describes an indestructible light within her, present since her last retreat, like a small seed of peace. When she feels the weight of responsibility, she turns to forgiving herself, and this brings her a feeling of completeness. Rupert affirms her reflection, agreeing that everything is okay.

A man asks if the yoga meditations Rupert used to do were part of the Progressive Path. Rupert says not quite, as they accompanied the Direct Path. He explains the inward-facing path is self-enquiry, the first step, and the outward-facing path brings that recognition into life – thoughts, feelings, relationships. The yoga meditations were not a way to recognise our true nature, but to infuse our life with our understanding. Over time, the distinction between inward and outward-facing paths blurred, and now they have merged completely.

A woman asks about leading meditations for people who are more activated or traumatised. Rupert suggests focusing on the body. He recommends tailoring teachings to the individual or group, noting that this group has a deep understanding, so they haven’t needed more basic methods like self-enquiry. He advises not to assume simplicity is unsuitable, and to guide others by resting in being. If this approach causes resistance, teachers should then adjust their methods accordingly.

A woman asks about Rupert’s previous statement regarding there being no enlightenment. Rupert explains that awakening is not an event or experience, but the recognition of the nature of being. This recognition may impact the body or mind in dramatic or subtle ways, but the recognition itself remains empty and transparent.

A man asks about Rupert’s relationship with reading, noting that he has read a lot and can quote many texts. Rupert shares that he no longer reads as much as he once did, having previously read voraciously. Now, if a book isn’t worth reading three times, it’s not worth reading once. He compares it to listening to a Bach prelude or Beethoven piece, explaining that even though he knows it by heart, he still returns to it for the sheer joy of hearing truth expressed in a beautiful way.

A man remembers the retreats from back in the day, when Rupert would recite poems from Blake, Wordsworth, Shelley and others. He shares how much he enjoyed those moments and misses them now. Rupert humorously says that these poets didn’t want to make another trip to America. He reassures the man that the poems may return one day, sharing a personal routine of reading poetry in the quiet hours of the night.

A woman thanks Rupert for not allowing them to sanctify him and acknowledges his statement that this is the age of the Pathless Path. Rupert suggests it is also the age of the friend, not the teacher. He reflects that this intuition arises from decades of witnessing the spiritual community’s deepening maturity. He recalls how teachings, once wrapped in Indian tradition, have gradually shed their cultural and spiritual packaging.