Terror in the Face of Death from the media All Is ‘I’
A man who just finished treatment for cancer says he is struggling with terror in the face of death – the beauty of life is too painful because it is so fragile. Rupert suggests that he has come to this core wound in the heart – which is experienced as a sense of lack and/or the fear of death. Rupert suggests that he ‘paint the terror gold’, completely embrace it. It the crack through which you must pass.
- Duration: 9 minutes and 0 seconds
- Recorded on: Apr 1, 2022
- Event: Seven Day Retreat at Garrison Institute – 27th March to 3rd April
A man reads a poem that he wrote the previous night inspired by meditations from the retreat.
A Ukrainian woman says she has lost her peace because of the war in the Ukraine. Rupert agrees that it can cause a sense of separation at the absolute level and a kind of ignorance at the source of conflict. But there is a deeper level, and Rupert mentions the TV series ‘The Crown’ referencing Queen Victoria and the depth of her commitment to her role as the head of state to represent, in Churchill's words, 'eternity'.
A Ukrainian woman asks a question about why we are attached to our nationality. Rupert agrees that it can cause a sense of separation at the absolute level and a kind of ignorance at the source of conflict. But there is a deeper level, and Rupert mentions the TV series ‘The Crown’ referencing Queen Victoria and the depth of her commitment to her role as the head of state to represent, in Churchill's words, 'eternity'.
A man asks if being, abiding and awareness are the same because it seems that a dog’s awareness is different from a person. Rupert suggests that the filter through which people and dogs see the tree are different filters – different types of ‘glasses” – but that doesn’t tell us about that which sees. We’ve been brought up in a materialist culture that says that consciousness is a property of the body, but that thought is faulty. Consciousness is primary – we’ve never experienced anything outside of consciousness.
A man asks Rupert if being and awareness are the same and, if so, why do we have two words for the same thing. Rupert asks him to imagine that this was his first ever experience – you had never seen, smelled, tasted, heard anything. Rupert asks him what would his primary experience be of himself? The man replies, ‘I am.’ When you say I am, what you're really saying is, I know that I am. Is the ‘I’ that I am the same ‘I’ that knows that I am, or are they two different types? The man replies that they are the same.
A man asks when someone with dementia or who is brain dead and without memories, why do we prolong their life, and if the brain is dead, what is awareness? Rupert responds that if someone experiences pain, then there is awareness. The consciousness with which the person experienced their life is not located in, generated by or limited to our brains. The body and brain are what localised consciousness looks like to a separate self.
A woman who had an insight into the ‘un-realness’ of perception was left feeling horrified that there was nothing to count on, like when she had an ayahuasca experience. She asks, ‘What can I be certain of?’ Rupert suggests that those horrors are the sense of our reality being dismantled. It takes a while for that model to begin to disintegrate. Once it’s cracked, it can never be mended again.
A man asks about what happens to our gifts as the ego dies. Rupert responds that it is legitimate to speak of the death of the ego but suggests letting the idea go. The ego never existed; it is an imaginary limitation of what you truly are, similar to John Smith and King Lear. King Lear doesn't die, he never existed to begin with. As for the gifts, they never die. They become the means by which we bring this understanding into the world.
A man asks about how decisions and choices are made. Rupert says he prefers to say that consciousness is pure freedom. What we can pay attention to is what informs our decisions, on whose behalf are we making them – our essential self, or the apparently separate self. Even if something was a mistake, our pure intention will keep us safe.
A man describes the deep love and gratitude he has felt as a participant in the retreat and declares that 'All is I'. Rupert thanks him for his expression.
A man who just finished treatment for cancer says he is struggling with terror in the face of death – the beauty of life is too painful because it is so fragile. Rupert suggests that he has come to this core wound in the heart – which is experienced as a sense of lack and/or the fear of death. Rupert suggests that he ‘paint the terror gold’, completely embrace it. It the crack through which you must pass.
A man says it feels as if he has some control over some results in life and asks about what the place for effort is. Rupert suggests making whatever effort is required to bring yourself to the understanding that the recognition of your innate peace requires no effort whatsoever. If that is not clear, make whatever effort it takes to come to this understanding.
A man who is full of gratefulness for the retreat is already feeling sad about it nearly being over and says he is controlled by the future. Rupert suggests that he imagine that there is no future, which is truly your only experience. Rupert asks, ‘Can you be unhappy in this state?’ The man replies, ‘no’. You are only unhappy when you think of the future. The remedy is to be in the present, which is all we ever have.
A woman who wants to be able to do the same things, asks about how Rupert ‘feels’ the question before he gives an answer. Rupert says he feels the person – what is behind the words – to get where they're coming from. Rupert suggests that she carries a weight and is burdened by the world, which has the impact of numbing, making it harder to pick up on such feelings. He says this is a kind of resignation as a coping mechanism because it's too painful to be open, and he suggests she stop playing the 'good girl' and have the courage to come out.
A woman asks about what it means to have someone ‘living’ inside you, and what to do about it. Rupert suggests that what he means, in her case, is that her mother’s feelings are tangled up with hers. She hasn’t separated from her emotionally. She must take responsibility for her own feelings. Liberate yourself, then you may be able to help her as an adult.
A man reads a poem that he wrote the previous night inspired by meditations from the retreat.
A Ukrainian woman says she has lost her peace because of the war in the Ukraine. Rupert agrees that it can cause a sense of separation at the absolute level and a kind of ignorance at the source of conflict. But there is a deeper level, and Rupert mentions the TV series ‘The Crown’ referencing Queen Victoria and the depth of her commitment to her role as the head of state to represent, in Churchill's words, 'eternity'.
A Ukrainian woman asks a question about why we are attached to our nationality. Rupert agrees that it can cause a sense of separation at the absolute level and a kind of ignorance at the source of conflict. But there is a deeper level, and Rupert mentions the TV series ‘The Crown’ referencing Queen Victoria and the depth of her commitment to her role as the head of state to represent, in Churchill's words, 'eternity'.
A man asks if being, abiding and awareness are the same because it seems that a dog’s awareness is different from a person. Rupert suggests that the filter through which people and dogs see the tree are different filters – different types of ‘glasses” – but that doesn’t tell us about that which sees. We’ve been brought up in a materialist culture that says that consciousness is a property of the body, but that thought is faulty. Consciousness is primary – we’ve never experienced anything outside of consciousness.
A man asks Rupert if being and awareness are the same and, if so, why do we have two words for the same thing. Rupert asks him to imagine that this was his first ever experience – you had never seen, smelled, tasted, heard anything. Rupert asks him what would his primary experience be of himself? The man replies, ‘I am.’ When you say I am, what you're really saying is, I know that I am. Is the ‘I’ that I am the same ‘I’ that knows that I am, or are they two different types? The man replies that they are the same.
A man asks when someone with dementia or who is brain dead and without memories, why do we prolong their life, and if the brain is dead, what is awareness? Rupert responds that if someone experiences pain, then there is awareness. The consciousness with which the person experienced their life is not located in, generated by or limited to our brains. The body and brain are what localised consciousness looks like to a separate self.
A woman who had an insight into the ‘un-realness’ of perception was left feeling horrified that there was nothing to count on, like when she had an ayahuasca experience. She asks, ‘What can I be certain of?’ Rupert suggests that those horrors are the sense of our reality being dismantled. It takes a while for that model to begin to disintegrate. Once it’s cracked, it can never be mended again.
A man asks about what happens to our gifts as the ego dies. Rupert responds that it is legitimate to speak of the death of the ego but suggests letting the idea go. The ego never existed; it is an imaginary limitation of what you truly are, similar to John Smith and King Lear. King Lear doesn't die, he never existed to begin with. As for the gifts, they never die. They become the means by which we bring this understanding into the world.
A man asks about how decisions and choices are made. Rupert says he prefers to say that consciousness is pure freedom. What we can pay attention to is what informs our decisions, on whose behalf are we making them – our essential self, or the apparently separate self. Even if something was a mistake, our pure intention will keep us safe.
A man describes the deep love and gratitude he has felt as a participant in the retreat and declares that 'All is I'. Rupert thanks him for his expression.
A man who just finished treatment for cancer says he is struggling with terror in the face of death – the beauty of life is too painful because it is so fragile. Rupert suggests that he has come to this core wound in the heart – which is experienced as a sense of lack and/or the fear of death. Rupert suggests that he ‘paint the terror gold’, completely embrace it. It the crack through which you must pass.
A man says it feels as if he has some control over some results in life and asks about what the place for effort is. Rupert suggests making whatever effort is required to bring yourself to the understanding that the recognition of your innate peace requires no effort whatsoever. If that is not clear, make whatever effort it takes to come to this understanding.
A man who is full of gratefulness for the retreat is already feeling sad about it nearly being over and says he is controlled by the future. Rupert suggests that he imagine that there is no future, which is truly your only experience. Rupert asks, ‘Can you be unhappy in this state?’ The man replies, ‘no’. You are only unhappy when you think of the future. The remedy is to be in the present, which is all we ever have.
A woman who wants to be able to do the same things, asks about how Rupert ‘feels’ the question before he gives an answer. Rupert says he feels the person – what is behind the words – to get where they're coming from. Rupert suggests that she carries a weight and is burdened by the world, which has the impact of numbing, making it harder to pick up on such feelings. He says this is a kind of resignation as a coping mechanism because it's too painful to be open, and he suggests she stop playing the 'good girl' and have the courage to come out.
A woman asks about what it means to have someone ‘living’ inside you, and what to do about it. Rupert suggests that what he means, in her case, is that her mother’s feelings are tangled up with hers. She hasn’t separated from her emotionally. She must take responsibility for her own feelings. Liberate yourself, then you may be able to help her as an adult.