Shaking During Meditation from the media We Are Dreaming It All Up
A woman shares that when she sits down to meditate, she experiences shaking in the upper body and feels really scared, describing it as a raw fear of what might happen to her. Rupert suggests that she open her eyes during meditation, which will likely stop the shaking. He explains that the shaking is a physical expression of psychological fear, a reaction of the ego to its sense that it is going to die. Over time, as she continues sinking into being, the shaking will probably subside.
- Duration: 3 minutes and 1 second
- Recorded on: Oct 20, 2024
- Event: Seven-Day Retreat at Mercy Center – 18 to 25 October 2024
A man asks about volition, wondering if planning, like coming to the retreat, is an act of will or the mind seeking its source. Rupert explains that infinite consciousness is like a vast space, and finite minds are like separate rooms within it. When consciousness seems confined in the body, a tension arises, as if something infinite is squeezed into a few square metres. The finite mind feels constrained and longs to return to its natural state of equilibrium, wholeness and peace. This impulse drives all desires, whether seeking happiness through objects or enlightenment, always aiming to return to its true infinite nature.
A woman enquires about the distinction between seeking from lack and seeking from fullness, asking if her desire for community and connection arises from the finite mind or from being. Rupert gently explains that our search for happiness in the world or enlightenment in spiritual traditions often comes from a sense of lack. But when we no longer feel this lack, we rest at ease, in peace and love. From this fullness, the desire to connect arises, not to feel better or complete, but as an expression of joy and love. It is a desire that flows from fullness, not towards it.
A man, reflecting on conversations with Bernardo Kastrup, suggests that the brain is what the activity of our finite mind looks like from a second-person perspective. He draws parallels between descriptions of black holes – singularity, collapse of time and space, absence of light – and descriptions of being, and asks if a black hole could represent what being looks like from a second-person perspective. Rupert replies that being doesn’t look like anything from a second-person perspective because, unlike the brain or universe, being itself has no activity to register. He explains that it is only activity that appears as the brain or the universe, while pure being, prior to activity, has no appearance at all. Thus, it couldn’t be perceived or registered by a finite mind.
A woman describes feeling that she was anchored in the lower abdomen during meditation at a retreat last year, with contentment and awakeness, realising nothing needed to be done. On another retreat in the summer, everything disappeared until the mind reappeared with a sense of happiness and unity. She says she felt she was Atman. Rupert replies that she was experiencing pure being prior to experience, which is the nature of Atman – aware being – and that is what she is now.
A woman shares her struggle with disciplining herself in practices like meditation and her newfound relaxation after letting go of these expectations, and asks if we truly have free will or if we are just programmed to feel as though we do. Rupert suggests that we should act as if we have free will, and that when we are cooperating with the universe, our actions come from love. He suggests pausing before any action to ask if it comes from love, and reassures her that it’s okay to relax, as true discipline flows naturally when motivated by love.
A woman describes arriving at a place without consciously driving, feeling it was better than when she actively drove. She asks who is driving her car in those moments. Rupert replies that it’s her body, performing out of habit, a skill so familiar that it sinks below the threshold of the conscious mind, like breathing. He relates this to being in the flow, comparing it to playing an instrument or running – activities where repetition allows movement without ego interference.
In the context of the previous conversation about cooperating with the universe, a man asks if Rupert is using the word ‘universe’ metaphorically or if he means the physical universe. Rupert explains that the physical universe is simply how the activity of the one appears from the localised perspective of the finite mind. It’s like a dream, where what seems physical is just the activity of mind. Infinite consciousness localises itself as finite minds, perceiving its own activity as an apparently physical universe. We, infinite consciousness, are dreaming up the whole thing.
A man, after a period of peace and distance from anxiety, seeks guidance from Rupert on how to navigate intense experiences that recently overwhelmed him, wondering if he is on the right path in witnessing and allowing these emotions to flow through. Rupert acknowledges that some experiences are so intense they draw us in, but reassures him that he can again take his stand as the knower of his experience. He suggests that next time, when the intensity rises, the man won’t be drawn in so easily and will allow it all to flow through him without resistance.
A woman shares how she’s losing energy for her psychotherapeutic work but finds herself full of energy for creative design. Her mind struggles with fear and attachment to outcomes as she considers releasing her therapy practice to follow her creative passion. Rupert suggests exploring whether the fear is a practical one, indicating a legitimate need, or an egoic resistance to letting go of the known and stepping into a larger adventure. He speaks of how the ego holds onto the known and feels unsettled by change.
A woman shares that an angry and cynical part of her mind arises during meditation, doubting that anything will work because she feels burnt out. Rupert acknowledges this, noting that relationships, activities, substances and even spiritual practices lead to disappointment, including the final disappointment in the spiritual teacher. He explains that all efforts, even towards a teacher, fail because happiness cannot be attained outside. He invites her to stop seeking and return to her being, experiencing its inherent peace and completeness.
A man reflects on leaving his job, trusting the universe and feeling conflicted between surrendering to what’s in front of him and the sense that what he is doing ‘isn’t it’, seeking guidance on finding direction. Rupert replies by clarifying that he is not a career advisor, not a therapist and not a doctor. He suggests that if the man doesn’t like his job and his financial circumstances permit, he should leave and find something he loves to do.
A woman shares that when she sits down to meditate, she experiences shaking in the upper body and feels really scared, describing it as a raw fear of what might happen to her. Rupert suggests that she open her eyes during meditation, which will likely stop the shaking. He explains that the shaking is a physical expression of psychological fear, a reaction of the ego to its sense that it is going to die. Over time, as she continues sinking into being, the shaking will probably subside.
A man asks about physical aches and pains during meditation. Rupert responds that if the question is about physical pain, it should be addressed to a doctor, not him. He suggests that the man may lie down or stand up during meditation.
A man references a podcast episode with Hale Dwoskin where Rupert described awareness as ever-present, limitless, inherently peaceful and unconditionally fulfilled. The man shares that he grasps the peacefulness and fulfilment but seeks clarity on experiencing awareness as limitless. Rupert invites the man to explore this experientially, asking him to search for any border or edge to his awareness. He suggests that because awareness is self-aware, it must inherently know the totality of itself and thus be limitless.
A man wants to confirm if being the witness and being aware of awareness are synonymous. Rupert clarifies that taking the position of the witness is a first step, often a prelude, and involves separating the knower from the known. He explains that self-enquiry is not about separating oneself from experiences but about turning attention around to be aware of simply being aware.
A man asks about volition, wondering if planning, like coming to the retreat, is an act of will or the mind seeking its source. Rupert explains that infinite consciousness is like a vast space, and finite minds are like separate rooms within it. When consciousness seems confined in the body, a tension arises, as if something infinite is squeezed into a few square metres. The finite mind feels constrained and longs to return to its natural state of equilibrium, wholeness and peace. This impulse drives all desires, whether seeking happiness through objects or enlightenment, always aiming to return to its true infinite nature.
A woman enquires about the distinction between seeking from lack and seeking from fullness, asking if her desire for community and connection arises from the finite mind or from being. Rupert gently explains that our search for happiness in the world or enlightenment in spiritual traditions often comes from a sense of lack. But when we no longer feel this lack, we rest at ease, in peace and love. From this fullness, the desire to connect arises, not to feel better or complete, but as an expression of joy and love. It is a desire that flows from fullness, not towards it.
A man, reflecting on conversations with Bernardo Kastrup, suggests that the brain is what the activity of our finite mind looks like from a second-person perspective. He draws parallels between descriptions of black holes – singularity, collapse of time and space, absence of light – and descriptions of being, and asks if a black hole could represent what being looks like from a second-person perspective. Rupert replies that being doesn’t look like anything from a second-person perspective because, unlike the brain or universe, being itself has no activity to register. He explains that it is only activity that appears as the brain or the universe, while pure being, prior to activity, has no appearance at all. Thus, it couldn’t be perceived or registered by a finite mind.
A woman describes feeling that she was anchored in the lower abdomen during meditation at a retreat last year, with contentment and awakeness, realising nothing needed to be done. On another retreat in the summer, everything disappeared until the mind reappeared with a sense of happiness and unity. She says she felt she was Atman. Rupert replies that she was experiencing pure being prior to experience, which is the nature of Atman – aware being – and that is what she is now.
A woman shares her struggle with disciplining herself in practices like meditation and her newfound relaxation after letting go of these expectations, and asks if we truly have free will or if we are just programmed to feel as though we do. Rupert suggests that we should act as if we have free will, and that when we are cooperating with the universe, our actions come from love. He suggests pausing before any action to ask if it comes from love, and reassures her that it’s okay to relax, as true discipline flows naturally when motivated by love.
A woman describes arriving at a place without consciously driving, feeling it was better than when she actively drove. She asks who is driving her car in those moments. Rupert replies that it’s her body, performing out of habit, a skill so familiar that it sinks below the threshold of the conscious mind, like breathing. He relates this to being in the flow, comparing it to playing an instrument or running – activities where repetition allows movement without ego interference.
In the context of the previous conversation about cooperating with the universe, a man asks if Rupert is using the word ‘universe’ metaphorically or if he means the physical universe. Rupert explains that the physical universe is simply how the activity of the one appears from the localised perspective of the finite mind. It’s like a dream, where what seems physical is just the activity of mind. Infinite consciousness localises itself as finite minds, perceiving its own activity as an apparently physical universe. We, infinite consciousness, are dreaming up the whole thing.
A man, after a period of peace and distance from anxiety, seeks guidance from Rupert on how to navigate intense experiences that recently overwhelmed him, wondering if he is on the right path in witnessing and allowing these emotions to flow through. Rupert acknowledges that some experiences are so intense they draw us in, but reassures him that he can again take his stand as the knower of his experience. He suggests that next time, when the intensity rises, the man won’t be drawn in so easily and will allow it all to flow through him without resistance.
A woman shares how she’s losing energy for her psychotherapeutic work but finds herself full of energy for creative design. Her mind struggles with fear and attachment to outcomes as she considers releasing her therapy practice to follow her creative passion. Rupert suggests exploring whether the fear is a practical one, indicating a legitimate need, or an egoic resistance to letting go of the known and stepping into a larger adventure. He speaks of how the ego holds onto the known and feels unsettled by change.
A woman shares that an angry and cynical part of her mind arises during meditation, doubting that anything will work because she feels burnt out. Rupert acknowledges this, noting that relationships, activities, substances and even spiritual practices lead to disappointment, including the final disappointment in the spiritual teacher. He explains that all efforts, even towards a teacher, fail because happiness cannot be attained outside. He invites her to stop seeking and return to her being, experiencing its inherent peace and completeness.
A man reflects on leaving his job, trusting the universe and feeling conflicted between surrendering to what’s in front of him and the sense that what he is doing ‘isn’t it’, seeking guidance on finding direction. Rupert replies by clarifying that he is not a career advisor, not a therapist and not a doctor. He suggests that if the man doesn’t like his job and his financial circumstances permit, he should leave and find something he loves to do.
A woman shares that when she sits down to meditate, she experiences shaking in the upper body and feels really scared, describing it as a raw fear of what might happen to her. Rupert suggests that she open her eyes during meditation, which will likely stop the shaking. He explains that the shaking is a physical expression of psychological fear, a reaction of the ego to its sense that it is going to die. Over time, as she continues sinking into being, the shaking will probably subside.
A man asks about physical aches and pains during meditation. Rupert responds that if the question is about physical pain, it should be addressed to a doctor, not him. He suggests that the man may lie down or stand up during meditation.
A man references a podcast episode with Hale Dwoskin where Rupert described awareness as ever-present, limitless, inherently peaceful and unconditionally fulfilled. The man shares that he grasps the peacefulness and fulfilment but seeks clarity on experiencing awareness as limitless. Rupert invites the man to explore this experientially, asking him to search for any border or edge to his awareness. He suggests that because awareness is self-aware, it must inherently know the totality of itself and thus be limitless.
A man wants to confirm if being the witness and being aware of awareness are synonymous. Rupert clarifies that taking the position of the witness is a first step, often a prelude, and involves separating the knower from the known. He explains that self-enquiry is not about separating oneself from experiences but about turning attention around to be aware of simply being aware.