Lucid Dreaming and Lucid Waking from the media Multiple Minds in Infinite Consciousness

A woman asks why we meditate, describing their practice of focusing on the breath to quiet the mind and watch thoughts without engagement. Rupert explains that focusing on the breath provides temporary relief by taking attention away from distressing thoughts and feelings. However, the approach at his retreats aims for permanent relief and lasting peace by continually tracing attention back through layers of experience – from body to breath to thoughts to feelings – without allowing attention to rest on any object. Eventually, attention ceases to be directed towards anything and returns to its source: the presence of awareness. This is what we long for above all – peace, joy, and love – which are the very nature of awareness. When asked why meditation feels like work, Rupert uses the King Lear/John Smith metaphor to explain that we’ve given ourselves so fully to being a separate self that returning to our true nature requires effort to counter that momentum, though this effort diminishes over time as the pull of experience weakens.

A man referring to a previous exchange, humorously describing himself as a ‘bumbling fool’ who rode so hard against the stream that when he finally surrendered and went with the flow, he found it effortless. Rupert affirms this as an alternative approach – giving up, letting the stream carry you, which will eventually lead to the ocean.

A woman describes an experience where she had been exploring the devotional path and meditation, recently understanding Rupert’s teaching about space in a room being no different from space outside. After contemplating that there can only be one space that contains everything, and connecting this with the metaphor of gold being shaped into a ring while remaining gold, she had a profound insight that was followed by a complete shutdown. She now finds returning to that state difficult, with her mind resorting to a light prayer: ‘Beam me up Scotty’. Rupert confirms this is the space recognising itself as the vast space – there is no room in God’s infinite being for a finite being, even one kneeling in devotion. The recognition that there is only God’s being and ‘I am that’ represents the height of devotion where there is no separate devotee. He acknowledges that simply saying ‘take me home’ is the perfect position of surrender, not demanding but trusting in God’s timing.

A woman expresses her appreciation at how Rupert always guides everyone to the same place regardless of where the conversation begins. She shares a dream-like experience of seeing the infinite as a point that was hollow, with nothing beneath it. Rupert clarifies that the infinite is not vast but is without dimensions – impossible to represent in the mind. He relates this to our experience in deep sleep, where there is no time or space, only awareness of being. When we wake, thinking refracts this dimensionless infinite presence into one dimension of time, while perceiving refracts it into three dimensions of space. Time and space are not inherent in reality but are how reality appears through the lens of thinking and perceiving. Our experience in deep sleep cannot be fully represented by the finite mind, which imposes its own limitations on everything it knows.

A woman explores the implications of all 8 billion human minds being a narrowing of infinite consciousness. Rupert explains that in order to have a single thought and perception, consciousness must focus so narrowly that everything else is excluded, comparing it to a camera focusing on one object while everything else becomes blurred. It would be impossible to have two thoughts simultaneously, let alone billions. When the woman remarks that her ego is boosted by the idea that ‘we are all those things including aliens and all possible things . . . we are that’, Rupert keeps on the track of how the finite mind functions as a narrowing, focusing mechanism that must exclude everything outside its compass.

A woman asks how to introduce Rupert’s children’s book to her nine-year-old grandson who gets frustrated when things don’t go his way. Rupert suggests simply letting him read it and look at the illustrations, allowing the meaning to bypass his rational mind and go straight to his heart. If the child struggles but shows interest, she might explain concepts like how feelings of sadness or loneliness visit us but aren’t who we are. However, if he’s not interested, Rupert advises not pushing it but rather modelling the qualities of ‘unwavering love’ and ‘imperturbable peace’ through her own being. This embodied example will plant a seed that may flower later in the child’s life, when he might recognise, perhaps decades hence, that his grandmother had always been demonstrating the presence he eventually discovers in himself.

A man shares that his girlfriend broke up with him because she found it weird that he didn’t get upset about things, mistaking his equanimity for aloofness. Rupert suggests two possibilities: either the man is using non-duality as a veneer to avoid confronting emotions, or his girlfriend’s ego, which thrives on conflict, was unsettled by his lack of reactivity. Regarding whether partners should share spiritual beliefs, Rupert explains that what matters is being aligned in heart, not tradition. A relationship between people from different spiritual paths can be beautiful if egos aren’t invested in defending particular traditions. He notes that even sharing the same tradition doesn’t guarantee harmony, while partners who don’t share a spiritual interest can have beautiful relationships if there’s mutual respect and love.

A woman explores definitions of the body, noting that Jean Klein defined it as only the five senses, while another teaching defines it as the unconscious depth of mind. Rupert explains that both perspectives describe the same understanding from different angles. When viewed from a second-person perspective, the unconscious layers of mind appear as the physical body. What we perceive as someone’s body is just what our senses capture of their mind. He quotes William Blake: ‘The body is that portion of the soul that is discernible to the five senses’. Using the metaphor of Mary dreaming she’s Jane on safari being chased by a tiger, he illustrates how Mary’s subconscious fear appears as a tiger in the dream world when perceived through Jane’s senses – similarly, our bodies are the sense-perceptible aspects of mind.

A man observes that the apparent world is full of beautiful metaphors – dreams, ocean, space, clouds, sky – that we use to point to awareness, and wonders if there is anything pointing in the opposite direction. Rupert agrees that manifestation is ‘littered with traces of the beloved everywhere’, visible to those with ‘eyes to see it’. For those without such openness, there appear to be no traces of the divine. He notes that two people can look at the same object, with one seeing evidence of a materialist perspective while the other sees evidence of the divine. Rupert singles out dreams as particularly significant, suggesting that the relationship between dreamer and dreamed character mirrors exactly the relationship between us and the infinite – ‘just one step up’. Every night, our unified field of consciousness imagines a world within itself, forgets it is imagining that world, and localises itself as an apparently separate subject within its own imagination. Rupert proposes that the waking state functions identically – the one infinite mind imagines a world within itself and simultaneously localises itself as numerous finite minds (all of us), from whose perspective it perceives the unlocalised aspect of itself as the universe. This is not a ‘newfangled, new age idea’ but a mechanism that exists in nature, for which we have direct evidence every night.

A woman expresses gratitude for Rupert’s insights about the ego’s drive to create conflict, which helped her understand her autistic son’s seemingly unprovoked outbursts. She then shares a childhood experience of anxiety about eternity, which returned when Rupert asked the group to imagine what might be behind being. Rupert clarifies that he wasn’t implying something exists behind being, but wanted her to recognise nothing can be prior to being – an experiential rather than intellectual understanding. He explains that the root of anxiety is fear of death, which dissolves when we recognise being is ever-present. When the finite mind perceives eternity through the faculty of thinking, it appears as ‘everlasting’ (extending infinitely in time), but true eternity is the vertical dimension of being that intersects with time at the ‘now’ – making ‘now’ both a moment in time and eternity from consciousness’s perspective.

A woman describes a shift in their relationship to spiritual practice. Previously immersed in wisdom texts and teachings, she now finds such activities feel artificial and instead simply lives her ordinary life – making tea, playing instruments, teaching – without suffering much. She wonders why she still come to retreats. Rupert responds with the metaphor that ‘when you’ve arrived on the Caribbean Beach, you stop reading the map’. He shares that he too reads little about spiritual matters now and engages with ordinary activities like learning about finance to connect with his son. He suggests two valid responses to this stage: either stop attending retreats (as some have done) or continue attending ‘for no reason’ – not to get or give anything, but simply to be with the community. He compares this to flowers that bloom not to enlighten anyone but simply because blooming is their nature.

A man explores different types of prayer – a child praying for candy, a person with cancer at peace with whatever happens (prayer of wisdom), and someone devoutly praying for health (prayer of devotion). From the perspective of being, all three prayers seem equal. He asks about an experience where a blessing came through him with conviction, wondering if finite minds ‘borrow the free will of being’. Rupert confirms this understanding, quoting W.B. Yeats’ poem about momentarily feeling blessed and able to bless others. He explains that God’s being permeates us when our attention is open and flows out through us, tailoring itself appropriately to each person we encounter – as kindness, wisdom or generosity. Quoting Mother Meera, he adds: ‘A child offers its mother a sweet, a stick, or a stone. The mother doesn’t mind what is offered; she is just happy to have been remembered’.

A woman shares her experience of transformation after discovering Rupert’s teachings. After listening to just one talk and doing one meditation, she felt completely changed, realising she no longer needed her collection of spiritual-growth books. While initially thinking she didn’t need to attend the retreat, she came for the community and to express gratitude. She describes a profound shift she received on the retreat: the understanding that everything is as it should be, nothing is out of place, and even difficult things are part of the perfection – the most potent expression and experience of this truth she had ever had.

A woman asks why we meditate, describing their practice of focusing on the breath to quiet the mind and watch thoughts without engagement. Rupert explains that focusing on the breath provides temporary relief by taking attention away from distressing thoughts and feelings. However, the approach at his retreats aims for permanent relief and lasting peace by continually tracing attention back through layers of experience – from body to breath to thoughts to feelings – without allowing attention to rest on any object. Eventually, attention ceases to be directed towards anything and returns to its source: the presence of awareness. This is what we long for above all – peace, joy, and love – which are the very nature of awareness. When asked why meditation feels like work, Rupert uses the King Lear/John Smith metaphor to explain that we’ve given ourselves so fully to being a separate self that returning to our true nature requires effort to counter that momentum, though this effort diminishes over time as the pull of experience weakens.

A man referring to a previous exchange, humorously describing himself as a ‘bumbling fool’ who rode so hard against the stream that when he finally surrendered and went with the flow, he found it effortless. Rupert affirms this as an alternative approach – giving up, letting the stream carry you, which will eventually lead to the ocean.

A woman describes an experience where she had been exploring the devotional path and meditation, recently understanding Rupert’s teaching about space in a room being no different from space outside. After contemplating that there can only be one space that contains everything, and connecting this with the metaphor of gold being shaped into a ring while remaining gold, she had a profound insight that was followed by a complete shutdown. She now finds returning to that state difficult, with her mind resorting to a light prayer: ‘Beam me up Scotty’. Rupert confirms this is the space recognising itself as the vast space – there is no room in God’s infinite being for a finite being, even one kneeling in devotion. The recognition that there is only God’s being and ‘I am that’ represents the height of devotion where there is no separate devotee. He acknowledges that simply saying ‘take me home’ is the perfect position of surrender, not demanding but trusting in God’s timing.

A woman expresses her appreciation at how Rupert always guides everyone to the same place regardless of where the conversation begins. She shares a dream-like experience of seeing the infinite as a point that was hollow, with nothing beneath it. Rupert clarifies that the infinite is not vast but is without dimensions – impossible to represent in the mind. He relates this to our experience in deep sleep, where there is no time or space, only awareness of being. When we wake, thinking refracts this dimensionless infinite presence into one dimension of time, while perceiving refracts it into three dimensions of space. Time and space are not inherent in reality but are how reality appears through the lens of thinking and perceiving. Our experience in deep sleep cannot be fully represented by the finite mind, which imposes its own limitations on everything it knows.

A woman explores the implications of all 8 billion human minds being a narrowing of infinite consciousness. Rupert explains that in order to have a single thought and perception, consciousness must focus so narrowly that everything else is excluded, comparing it to a camera focusing on one object while everything else becomes blurred. It would be impossible to have two thoughts simultaneously, let alone billions. When the woman remarks that her ego is boosted by the idea that ‘we are all those things including aliens and all possible things . . . we are that’, Rupert keeps on the track of how the finite mind functions as a narrowing, focusing mechanism that must exclude everything outside its compass.

A woman asks how to introduce Rupert’s children’s book to her nine-year-old grandson who gets frustrated when things don’t go his way. Rupert suggests simply letting him read it and look at the illustrations, allowing the meaning to bypass his rational mind and go straight to his heart. If the child struggles but shows interest, she might explain concepts like how feelings of sadness or loneliness visit us but aren’t who we are. However, if he’s not interested, Rupert advises not pushing it but rather modelling the qualities of ‘unwavering love’ and ‘imperturbable peace’ through her own being. This embodied example will plant a seed that may flower later in the child’s life, when he might recognise, perhaps decades hence, that his grandmother had always been demonstrating the presence he eventually discovers in himself.

A man shares that his girlfriend broke up with him because she found it weird that he didn’t get upset about things, mistaking his equanimity for aloofness. Rupert suggests two possibilities: either the man is using non-duality as a veneer to avoid confronting emotions, or his girlfriend’s ego, which thrives on conflict, was unsettled by his lack of reactivity. Regarding whether partners should share spiritual beliefs, Rupert explains that what matters is being aligned in heart, not tradition. A relationship between people from different spiritual paths can be beautiful if egos aren’t invested in defending particular traditions. He notes that even sharing the same tradition doesn’t guarantee harmony, while partners who don’t share a spiritual interest can have beautiful relationships if there’s mutual respect and love.

A woman explores definitions of the body, noting that Jean Klein defined it as only the five senses, while another teaching defines it as the unconscious depth of mind. Rupert explains that both perspectives describe the same understanding from different angles. When viewed from a second-person perspective, the unconscious layers of mind appear as the physical body. What we perceive as someone’s body is just what our senses capture of their mind. He quotes William Blake: ‘The body is that portion of the soul that is discernible to the five senses’. Using the metaphor of Mary dreaming she’s Jane on safari being chased by a tiger, he illustrates how Mary’s subconscious fear appears as a tiger in the dream world when perceived through Jane’s senses – similarly, our bodies are the sense-perceptible aspects of mind.

A man observes that the apparent world is full of beautiful metaphors – dreams, ocean, space, clouds, sky – that we use to point to awareness, and wonders if there is anything pointing in the opposite direction. Rupert agrees that manifestation is ‘littered with traces of the beloved everywhere’, visible to those with ‘eyes to see it’. For those without such openness, there appear to be no traces of the divine. He notes that two people can look at the same object, with one seeing evidence of a materialist perspective while the other sees evidence of the divine. Rupert singles out dreams as particularly significant, suggesting that the relationship between dreamer and dreamed character mirrors exactly the relationship between us and the infinite – ‘just one step up’. Every night, our unified field of consciousness imagines a world within itself, forgets it is imagining that world, and localises itself as an apparently separate subject within its own imagination. Rupert proposes that the waking state functions identically – the one infinite mind imagines a world within itself and simultaneously localises itself as numerous finite minds (all of us), from whose perspective it perceives the unlocalised aspect of itself as the universe. This is not a ‘newfangled, new age idea’ but a mechanism that exists in nature, for which we have direct evidence every night.

A woman expresses gratitude for Rupert’s insights about the ego’s drive to create conflict, which helped her understand her autistic son’s seemingly unprovoked outbursts. She then shares a childhood experience of anxiety about eternity, which returned when Rupert asked the group to imagine what might be behind being. Rupert clarifies that he wasn’t implying something exists behind being, but wanted her to recognise nothing can be prior to being – an experiential rather than intellectual understanding. He explains that the root of anxiety is fear of death, which dissolves when we recognise being is ever-present. When the finite mind perceives eternity through the faculty of thinking, it appears as ‘everlasting’ (extending infinitely in time), but true eternity is the vertical dimension of being that intersects with time at the ‘now’ – making ‘now’ both a moment in time and eternity from consciousness’s perspective.

A woman describes a shift in their relationship to spiritual practice. Previously immersed in wisdom texts and teachings, she now finds such activities feel artificial and instead simply lives her ordinary life – making tea, playing instruments, teaching – without suffering much. She wonders why she still come to retreats. Rupert responds with the metaphor that ‘when you’ve arrived on the Caribbean Beach, you stop reading the map’. He shares that he too reads little about spiritual matters now and engages with ordinary activities like learning about finance to connect with his son. He suggests two valid responses to this stage: either stop attending retreats (as some have done) or continue attending ‘for no reason’ – not to get or give anything, but simply to be with the community. He compares this to flowers that bloom not to enlighten anyone but simply because blooming is their nature.

A man explores different types of prayer – a child praying for candy, a person with cancer at peace with whatever happens (prayer of wisdom), and someone devoutly praying for health (prayer of devotion). From the perspective of being, all three prayers seem equal. He asks about an experience where a blessing came through him with conviction, wondering if finite minds ‘borrow the free will of being’. Rupert confirms this understanding, quoting W.B. Yeats’ poem about momentarily feeling blessed and able to bless others. He explains that God’s being permeates us when our attention is open and flows out through us, tailoring itself appropriately to each person we encounter – as kindness, wisdom or generosity. Quoting Mother Meera, he adds: ‘A child offers its mother a sweet, a stick, or a stone. The mother doesn’t mind what is offered; she is just happy to have been remembered’.

A woman shares her experience of transformation after discovering Rupert’s teachings. After listening to just one talk and doing one meditation, she felt completely changed, realising she no longer needed her collection of spiritual-growth books. While initially thinking she didn’t need to attend the retreat, she came for the community and to express gratitude. She describes a profound shift she received on the retreat: the understanding that everything is as it should be, nothing is out of place, and even difficult things are part of the perfection – the most potent expression and experience of this truth she had ever had.