The Swiftest Path to Enlightenment from the media The Call Back to Being

A man expresses concern about reincarnation and karma, having transitioned from Catholic concerns about heaven to non-dual Vedanta worries about enlightenment to avoid rebirth. Rupert clarifies that heaven in traditional religious teaching simply means being. From the perspective of a separate self, God and heaven appear distant, but in non-dual understanding, being is already infinite – that is what is meant by God. Being is not incarnate now, so there can be no reincarnation. Like space that isn’t contained in a room but in which the room appears, our true being is not in the body but that in which the body appears. When the body dies, being remains as it eternally is. The entire concept of reincarnation assumes time and space are real, but in reality, being exists in eternity.

A man enquires about a statement attributed to Nisargadatta about ‘staying with the “I am” until you go beyond it.’ Rupert distinguishes between the concept ‘I am’ and the experience of being that enables the statement ‘I am.’ Being is prior to the concept, but nothing can be prior to being itself – for what could exist before existence? While acknowledging potential translation or contextual issues with Nisargadatta’s statement, Rupert suggests they were likely referring to the same understanding but using language differently, with no fundamental contradiction between their teachings.

A woman describes losing herself in intense pain, unable to locate happiness and peace until the pain passes. Rupert acknowledges that sometimes pain can be so excruciating that one loses oneself in it, but suggests viewing oneself as the aware space in which pain appears rather than being identified with the pain. He points out that all experience, including physical pain, arises from within awareness and must be made of awareness. He recommends visualising breathing the luminosity and emptiness of awareness into the density of the sensation, which may soften it to some degree, noting that at least some of our pain comes from resistance to it.

A woman asks about explaining diseases in a consciousness-only model and whether chronic illness can be overcome. Rupert leads them through an experiential exploration, asking them to close their eyes and describe their current sensations without reference to the past. Through questioning, he reveals that when directly experienced, sensations have no shape, age, weight, or quality of being ‘sick’ or ‘healthy’ – they simply are. He encourages applying this same enquiry to any moment of feeling unwell, suggesting that our labelling of experience as ‘sickness’ is a provisional interpretation rather than the direct experience itself.

Building on a previous statement that ‘“I am” is higher than “God is”’, a woman explores where ‘I love’ fits in this hierarchy, suggesting that ‘I am’ and ‘I love’ seem inextricably intertwined in her experience. Rupert clarifies that ‘I am’ is a statement about what we are, while ‘I love’ is about what we do. For a separate self, love is something we do toward an object, requiring a subject-object relationship. For infinite being (God), there is no otherness, so love is not what God does but what God is. The experience of love is the collapse of separation – which is why we all love love, as the separate self dissolves in it. Rupert concludes that ‘I am love’ would be truer than ‘I love,’ as love is what we eternally are, not merely something we do.

In response to Carlo's earlier question about the one thing we can do, Rupert reframes the exploration for Sufis, mystical Christians, and devotees using Balayani's teaching: 'You do not know yourself because you have veiled yourself with yourself'. There is nothing in the infinite other than itself with which it could veil itself. The infinite rises as thought and perception, refracting into apparent multiplicity without ceasing to be itself alone. It freely consents to this, drawing unmanifest potential into form – what Shakespeare called giving 'airy nothing a local habitation and a name'. To perceive a world, the infinite must narrow its attention to know just one thought and perception, seeming to become a finite mind while fragmenting into numerous selves. This creates the wound of separation in each heart. If the finite mind gives attention to its essence prior to thought and perception, it stands revealed as the infinite. Our being is God's being – the name 'I am' is God's signature in our minds, the feeling of being is God's presence in our hearts, and love is God's shining in our friendships.

Building on earlier discussions, a woman asks about what determines one’s particular vibrational activity or modulation as an individual finite being. After acknowledging the clarity of Rupert’s explanation about the interaction between infinite being and finite mind, she asks what specifically determines that this particular configuration becomes ‘me’. Rupert simply answers, ‘I don’t know’, agreeing it invokes curiosity but may not be essential to know. This leads to a related question about conscious awareness representing only about five percent of mind’s activity. Rupert explains that our perceiving faculties are not sufficiently refined to register the vast majority of what is happening in reality, comparing it to William Blake’s idea that ‘the body is that portion of the soul discernible to the five senses’.

A man recounts a 50-year-old psychedelic experience where he discovered that the phrase ‘I am’ seemed excessive, then ‘am’ insufficient, with ‘amness’ being the only thing that made sense in that altered state. Rupert confirms he wouldn’t distinguish between these terms, explaining they all attempt to describe the subjective experience of being. What matters isn’t the technical accuracy of words but their evocative power – their ability to take us to the reality they reference. Unlike most words that refer to things that aren’t real in themselves, words like ‘I,’ ‘am,’ ‘God,’ ‘beloved,’ and ‘consciousness’ have the special quality of referring directly to what is real, though which words are most evocative varies for each person.

A man enquires about the vibrational quality of mantras as distinct from conceptual words like ‘I am’ or ‘beloved.’ Rupert describes mantras as abstract sounds that don’t go through the conceptual mind but deliver meaning directly, comparing them to condensed music – as if a thousand Bach notes were condensed into a single sound that, when received, expands and delivers its meaning. He emphasises using all our faculties – thinking, hearing, tasting, touching, smelling – as portals to reality, suggesting every sense can be informed by understanding. In response to why mantras aren’t used in the guided meditations, Rupert acknowledges his personal preferences and limitations, noting that while he practiced mantra meditation for twenty-five years, it’s not currently part of his teaching repertoire, though he still finds the mantra occasionally returning during rhythmic activities.

A woman asks what calls us back after we’ve separated into ‘little points of view’ and why everyone has gathered at the retreat. Rupert uses the analogy of infinite space being squeezed into a room, creating a natural impulse to expand back to its equilibrium. He suggests that infinite consciousness, having seemingly limited itself in body-minds, naturally draws itself back to itself – an impulse we naively call ‘the search for happiness’. This is not something we do; rather, it’s consciousness returning to its natural state. What we experience as longing for God is actually God’s love for us. The separate self’s longing to be relieved of its wound of separation is the infinite calling us back to itself – to love, which is not what God does but what God is.

A man expresses concern about reincarnation and karma, having transitioned from Catholic concerns about heaven to non-dual Vedanta worries about enlightenment to avoid rebirth. Rupert clarifies that heaven in traditional religious teaching simply means being. From the perspective of a separate self, God and heaven appear distant, but in non-dual understanding, being is already infinite – that is what is meant by God. Being is not incarnate now, so there can be no reincarnation. Like space that isn’t contained in a room but in which the room appears, our true being is not in the body but that in which the body appears. When the body dies, being remains as it eternally is. The entire concept of reincarnation assumes time and space are real, but in reality, being exists in eternity.

A man enquires about a statement attributed to Nisargadatta about ‘staying with the “I am” until you go beyond it.’ Rupert distinguishes between the concept ‘I am’ and the experience of being that enables the statement ‘I am.’ Being is prior to the concept, but nothing can be prior to being itself – for what could exist before existence? While acknowledging potential translation or contextual issues with Nisargadatta’s statement, Rupert suggests they were likely referring to the same understanding but using language differently, with no fundamental contradiction between their teachings.

A woman describes losing herself in intense pain, unable to locate happiness and peace until the pain passes. Rupert acknowledges that sometimes pain can be so excruciating that one loses oneself in it, but suggests viewing oneself as the aware space in which pain appears rather than being identified with the pain. He points out that all experience, including physical pain, arises from within awareness and must be made of awareness. He recommends visualising breathing the luminosity and emptiness of awareness into the density of the sensation, which may soften it to some degree, noting that at least some of our pain comes from resistance to it.

A woman asks about explaining diseases in a consciousness-only model and whether chronic illness can be overcome. Rupert leads them through an experiential exploration, asking them to close their eyes and describe their current sensations without reference to the past. Through questioning, he reveals that when directly experienced, sensations have no shape, age, weight, or quality of being ‘sick’ or ‘healthy’ – they simply are. He encourages applying this same enquiry to any moment of feeling unwell, suggesting that our labelling of experience as ‘sickness’ is a provisional interpretation rather than the direct experience itself.

Building on a previous statement that ‘“I am” is higher than “God is”’, a woman explores where ‘I love’ fits in this hierarchy, suggesting that ‘I am’ and ‘I love’ seem inextricably intertwined in her experience. Rupert clarifies that ‘I am’ is a statement about what we are, while ‘I love’ is about what we do. For a separate self, love is something we do toward an object, requiring a subject-object relationship. For infinite being (God), there is no otherness, so love is not what God does but what God is. The experience of love is the collapse of separation – which is why we all love love, as the separate self dissolves in it. Rupert concludes that ‘I am love’ would be truer than ‘I love,’ as love is what we eternally are, not merely something we do.

In response to Carlo's earlier question about the one thing we can do, Rupert reframes the exploration for Sufis, mystical Christians, and devotees using Balayani's teaching: 'You do not know yourself because you have veiled yourself with yourself'. There is nothing in the infinite other than itself with which it could veil itself. The infinite rises as thought and perception, refracting into apparent multiplicity without ceasing to be itself alone. It freely consents to this, drawing unmanifest potential into form – what Shakespeare called giving 'airy nothing a local habitation and a name'. To perceive a world, the infinite must narrow its attention to know just one thought and perception, seeming to become a finite mind while fragmenting into numerous selves. This creates the wound of separation in each heart. If the finite mind gives attention to its essence prior to thought and perception, it stands revealed as the infinite. Our being is God's being – the name 'I am' is God's signature in our minds, the feeling of being is God's presence in our hearts, and love is God's shining in our friendships.

Building on earlier discussions, a woman asks about what determines one’s particular vibrational activity or modulation as an individual finite being. After acknowledging the clarity of Rupert’s explanation about the interaction between infinite being and finite mind, she asks what specifically determines that this particular configuration becomes ‘me’. Rupert simply answers, ‘I don’t know’, agreeing it invokes curiosity but may not be essential to know. This leads to a related question about conscious awareness representing only about five percent of mind’s activity. Rupert explains that our perceiving faculties are not sufficiently refined to register the vast majority of what is happening in reality, comparing it to William Blake’s idea that ‘the body is that portion of the soul discernible to the five senses’.

A man recounts a 50-year-old psychedelic experience where he discovered that the phrase ‘I am’ seemed excessive, then ‘am’ insufficient, with ‘amness’ being the only thing that made sense in that altered state. Rupert confirms he wouldn’t distinguish between these terms, explaining they all attempt to describe the subjective experience of being. What matters isn’t the technical accuracy of words but their evocative power – their ability to take us to the reality they reference. Unlike most words that refer to things that aren’t real in themselves, words like ‘I,’ ‘am,’ ‘God,’ ‘beloved,’ and ‘consciousness’ have the special quality of referring directly to what is real, though which words are most evocative varies for each person.

A man enquires about the vibrational quality of mantras as distinct from conceptual words like ‘I am’ or ‘beloved.’ Rupert describes mantras as abstract sounds that don’t go through the conceptual mind but deliver meaning directly, comparing them to condensed music – as if a thousand Bach notes were condensed into a single sound that, when received, expands and delivers its meaning. He emphasises using all our faculties – thinking, hearing, tasting, touching, smelling – as portals to reality, suggesting every sense can be informed by understanding. In response to why mantras aren’t used in the guided meditations, Rupert acknowledges his personal preferences and limitations, noting that while he practiced mantra meditation for twenty-five years, it’s not currently part of his teaching repertoire, though he still finds the mantra occasionally returning during rhythmic activities.

A woman asks what calls us back after we’ve separated into ‘little points of view’ and why everyone has gathered at the retreat. Rupert uses the analogy of infinite space being squeezed into a room, creating a natural impulse to expand back to its equilibrium. He suggests that infinite consciousness, having seemingly limited itself in body-minds, naturally draws itself back to itself – an impulse we naively call ‘the search for happiness’. This is not something we do; rather, it’s consciousness returning to its natural state. What we experience as longing for God is actually God’s love for us. The separate self’s longing to be relieved of its wound of separation is the infinite calling us back to itself – to love, which is not what God does but what God is.