A Beacon in Our Hearts

The experience of simply being is what we refer to when we say, ‘I am’. There is nothing extraordinary or spiritual about the experience of being. Being is like breathing, but it's even more intimate, familiar, ordinary. Like our breathing – because it is so quiet, intimate, familiar, well-known – we overlook being. In everyday life, we are aware of thoughts, feelings, sensations and perceptions to the exclusion of the awareness of being. In meditation or prayer, we are simply aware of being to the exclusion of all other experience. One who is exclusively involved in the drama of experience suffers and enjoys accordingly, but one who remains in touch with being in the midst of experience is always at peace. Being shines brightly in the midst of all experience, a beacon in the heart and the mind indicating God's presence in us, as us.

A woman whose child has epilepsy asks about what she can do to help her. Rupert suggests that she is her daughter’s primary source of safety and comfort, so the most important thing is to be a rock of stability, peace and love. He suggests that she reinforce to her daughter that no matter how difficult things may be on the outside, her being on the inside is perfect. This encourages her to connect with her deepest being.

A man says he keeps many secrets from his family, such as his joblessness, health and sexuality. He asks if he should tell them the truth. Rupert responds that it's difficult to give specific advice, not knowing the details. However, even if the truth will upset his family, that is not a reason to lie. The peace of having a positive or perfect image of you is a fragile peace. It's not peace and it's not love.

A woman relays a difficult work experience and says that her mind is now struggling all the time, which affects her ability to meditate. Rupert reminds her that her being is available not just before the mind’s activity starts, but during it, like the screen is always visible during the movie. The ‘I am’ is always shining there. Stay with the ‘I am’ irrespective of what the mind is or isn’t doing. Rupert relays a story that the Shankaracharya told about an elephant.

A woman describes anxiety that feels like a kind of death. Rupert asks if she has any yoga or physical practice, to which she responds she walks in nature. He suggests taking up a yoga meditation and consider it a form of prayer and meditation for your body. Simply walking doesn't take you out of your comfort zone. Yoga gently stretches you out of habitual habits of emotions and feelings.

A man, who talks about the unfolding process, says he worries that he will lose his sense of purpose. Rupert suggests that it's fine to still have purpose, motivation and enthusiasm, but what's important is that the qualities that are the nature of being are expressed in life. All that is necessary is to harness your purpose in life to these qualities.

A woman asks about what to do when the content of experience becomes overwhelming, and for Rupert to elaborate on the grace of God. Rupert responds that the grace of God is always working within us, like the sun. It is not intermittent or reserved for special or difficult circumstances. Any time you feel the desire for peace, joy, love or clarity, it's not really you who is desiring these, but the grace of God drawing you back into itself. God is reeling us in, pulling us into the 'I'.

A man asks Rupert about the sense of intentionality. Rupert suggests that it’s legitimate to say to one who is lost in the drama of a movie to see the screen. For that reason is it legitimate to take a step back from the content of experience and rest in being.

A man asks if he should investigate the sense of being more globally, rather than locally. Rupert asks him to close his eyes and to not refer to memory. Would you even know anything of a body or space? Rupert continues to lead him in self-enquiry by exploring the experience of ‘right here’.

A woman describes the feeling of being pulled into a vortex of 'I am' and a great deal of physical pulsing. Rupert suggests that she is becoming more aware and more sensitive to the body as opposed to her attention always focused on the drama of life, so these sensations are more readily noticed. The body is waking up after being neglected. It is thanking her.

A woman wonders about the qualities of life, love and compassion and how they fit with 'spikes' of anger or frustration. Rupert says it's fine not to like it if someone does something you don't like; dislike the action but not the person.

A woman is experiencing a lot of fear lately. Rupert suggests that she say to herself, ‘I am anxious’ and see that it’s always the same ‘I am’. You aren’t always anxious, but you always are. Bring attention back in steps: to the sensation in your body, then you can go to the breath, then you can bring your attention to being.

A woman asks if we can feel other people’s feelings. Rupert suggests that our minds are not sealed containers; they are porous. We can convey a lot in all sorts of ways. To the extent that one is empty of their own feelings, we can be more open to others. The way we aren’t swayed by them is exactly as we aren't swayed by our own feelings: by emphasising the 'I am'.

A man has a tendency to dissociate from reality during difficult circumstances which makes it hard to trace back to 'I am'. Rupert asks if he uses his non-dual understanding to justify the dissociative behaviour. If he is aware of this, then he is aware of this behaviour, which probably developed when he was a child. Now he is aware and sees it happening, which is a good sign. Rupert elaborates on ways to interrupt the dissociation, going back and forth to being.

A man says that returning to 'I am' sometimes seems like a mental projection, which seems like a subtle form of avoidance. Rupert suggests that he not feel that the 'I am' is behind the experience but that it is completely permeated with it. Don't turn away from your experience, see the being in the foreground of experience.

A man asks, ‘What is the experience of 'I am?’ Rupert responds that it is so intimate, familiar and ordinary, that it is the least extraordinary of all experiences. All the peace, joy and love that we seek resides there.

The experience of simply being is what we refer to when we say, ‘I am’. There is nothing extraordinary or spiritual about the experience of being. Being is like breathing, but it's even more intimate, familiar, ordinary. Like our breathing – because it is so quiet, intimate, familiar, well-known – we overlook being. In everyday life, we are aware of thoughts, feelings, sensations and perceptions to the exclusion of the awareness of being. In meditation or prayer, we are simply aware of being to the exclusion of all other experience. One who is exclusively involved in the drama of experience suffers and enjoys accordingly, but one who remains in touch with being in the midst of experience is always at peace. Being shines brightly in the midst of all experience, a beacon in the heart and the mind indicating God's presence in us, as us.

A woman whose child has epilepsy asks about what she can do to help her. Rupert suggests that she is her daughter’s primary source of safety and comfort, so the most important thing is to be a rock of stability, peace and love. He suggests that she reinforce to her daughter that no matter how difficult things may be on the outside, her being on the inside is perfect. This encourages her to connect with her deepest being.

A man says he keeps many secrets from his family, such as his joblessness, health and sexuality. He asks if he should tell them the truth. Rupert responds that it's difficult to give specific advice, not knowing the details. However, even if the truth will upset his family, that is not a reason to lie. The peace of having a positive or perfect image of you is a fragile peace. It's not peace and it's not love.

A woman relays a difficult work experience and says that her mind is now struggling all the time, which affects her ability to meditate. Rupert reminds her that her being is available not just before the mind’s activity starts, but during it, like the screen is always visible during the movie. The ‘I am’ is always shining there. Stay with the ‘I am’ irrespective of what the mind is or isn’t doing. Rupert relays a story that the Shankaracharya told about an elephant.

A woman describes anxiety that feels like a kind of death. Rupert asks if she has any yoga or physical practice, to which she responds she walks in nature. He suggests taking up a yoga meditation and consider it a form of prayer and meditation for your body. Simply walking doesn't take you out of your comfort zone. Yoga gently stretches you out of habitual habits of emotions and feelings.

A man, who talks about the unfolding process, says he worries that he will lose his sense of purpose. Rupert suggests that it's fine to still have purpose, motivation and enthusiasm, but what's important is that the qualities that are the nature of being are expressed in life. All that is necessary is to harness your purpose in life to these qualities.

A woman asks about what to do when the content of experience becomes overwhelming, and for Rupert to elaborate on the grace of God. Rupert responds that the grace of God is always working within us, like the sun. It is not intermittent or reserved for special or difficult circumstances. Any time you feel the desire for peace, joy, love or clarity, it's not really you who is desiring these, but the grace of God drawing you back into itself. God is reeling us in, pulling us into the 'I'.

A man asks Rupert about the sense of intentionality. Rupert suggests that it’s legitimate to say to one who is lost in the drama of a movie to see the screen. For that reason is it legitimate to take a step back from the content of experience and rest in being.

A man asks if he should investigate the sense of being more globally, rather than locally. Rupert asks him to close his eyes and to not refer to memory. Would you even know anything of a body or space? Rupert continues to lead him in self-enquiry by exploring the experience of ‘right here’.

A woman describes the feeling of being pulled into a vortex of 'I am' and a great deal of physical pulsing. Rupert suggests that she is becoming more aware and more sensitive to the body as opposed to her attention always focused on the drama of life, so these sensations are more readily noticed. The body is waking up after being neglected. It is thanking her.

A woman wonders about the qualities of life, love and compassion and how they fit with 'spikes' of anger or frustration. Rupert says it's fine not to like it if someone does something you don't like; dislike the action but not the person.

A woman is experiencing a lot of fear lately. Rupert suggests that she say to herself, ‘I am anxious’ and see that it’s always the same ‘I am’. You aren’t always anxious, but you always are. Bring attention back in steps: to the sensation in your body, then you can go to the breath, then you can bring your attention to being.

A woman asks if we can feel other people’s feelings. Rupert suggests that our minds are not sealed containers; they are porous. We can convey a lot in all sorts of ways. To the extent that one is empty of their own feelings, we can be more open to others. The way we aren’t swayed by them is exactly as we aren't swayed by our own feelings: by emphasising the 'I am'.

A man has a tendency to dissociate from reality during difficult circumstances which makes it hard to trace back to 'I am'. Rupert asks if he uses his non-dual understanding to justify the dissociative behaviour. If he is aware of this, then he is aware of this behaviour, which probably developed when he was a child. Now he is aware and sees it happening, which is a good sign. Rupert elaborates on ways to interrupt the dissociation, going back and forth to being.

A man says that returning to 'I am' sometimes seems like a mental projection, which seems like a subtle form of avoidance. Rupert suggests that he not feel that the 'I am' is behind the experience but that it is completely permeated with it. Don't turn away from your experience, see the being in the foreground of experience.

A man asks, ‘What is the experience of 'I am?’ Rupert responds that it is so intimate, familiar and ordinary, that it is the least extraordinary of all experiences. All the peace, joy and love that we seek resides there.