A Hairline Crack in Reality

A question is asked about infusing a sensation with space. Rupert clarifies that feelings, sensations, arise in empty space, and while they feel solid and dense, they can only be made of the empty, transparent space. Infuse the sensation with that empty space and it dissipates. This is a little more proactive than just being with the sensation. Surrender the density to the space as though it were a cloud surrendering itself to the emptiness of the sky, and it disappears.

A man recalls feeling immense joy and openness during the last retreat, but the positive emotions faded upon returning. Hoping to reclaim that experience, he attended this retreat. For the first four days, he felt the loving spirit of the community, but yesterday, a deep despair set in. Seeking advice, he turns to Rupert, who encourages him to focus on his real experiences and engage in self-enquiry for the next three minutes. Rupert says that you can go to being whenever you want.

A man asks about the word 'proud', a word he doesn't hear at the retreat as part of the understanding that there is no 'me'. He describes a life of alcoholism prior to encountering non-duality and the idea of an illusory self. What is on offer here is more than the world can ever offer. Rupert encourages him to go ahead and express his understanding to others, to open the door to liberation to all.

A man expresses that his heart wants to be here, but his body wants to go away. When he had previously been in rehab, he felt love for the first time. He experiences a conflict between wanting to open up and be seen, yet his body simultaneously wants to run away. Despite a desire to be part of the community, he feels a wall behind him. He shares his poem, called 'Healing with Love'. The man and Rupert then share a warm embrace.

A man asks for clarification about infinite awareness, which has no experience. Rupert responds that awareness has no objective knowledge because there is no subject–object relationship. It knows itself just by being itself. It is aware, but not of anything. Its awareness of itself is yourself. Rupert guides the man in self-enquiry to experience the answer to his question.

Is infinite awareness peace and happiness, and aren't those experiences? Rupert clarifies that it's like a grey-clouded sky with three openings through which you can see patches of blue. You wouldn't say there are three blue clouds. They're not blue clouds, they're blue sky unobscured by clouds. Peace, joy and happiness are the clouds that aren't clouds; they're the blue sky without clouds.

A woman enquiries about being friends with Rupert, acknowledging that she knows him more than he knows her. However, she recognises their shared being, and in this way, they both know each other very well. She then shares a poem she wrote and expresses gratitude for Rupert and everybody on the retreat.

A man says he has some difficulties with the teaching, in that he still suffers. Is it possible that he's still a fragment in the universe, and if not, why does he suffer? How do you know that we share the same 'I am'? Rupert asks if he suffers when he is deeply asleep, to which he responds 'no'. That is because there are not thoughts and perceptions. What happens to the being you are in deep sleep and the being you are now? They are the same self. And that being is always, always available.

A woman recounts an experience at Lincoln Cathedral. She had entered a side chapel, where she felt immense silence. Does this quality remain in certain places? Are we really porous? Rupert replies that yes, it is not only the prayer that remains in the building, but also the underlying principle that this building was built with. The reverence for the presence of God was in the DNA of the building before it was constructed. Because the design and construction were based on this, the building shines with God. Additionally, through centuries of praise, prayer, and worship, the whole space was sanctified, permeated with love and devotion that took place there. Now, the building gives back a radiance.

A woman with little meditation experience asks about images that come through her mind when she's meditating, which seem very real, but they're of unfamiliar places. Eventually she lost all track of time, and she felt a kind of emptiness. She asks for feedback about this experience. Rupert suggests that when you fall asleep at night, perception comes to an end, which leaves an empty space. You're enacting that same process in meditation. The emptiness indicates you're headed in the right direction.

A woman, who is a meditation teacher, says she now can't go back to teaching progressive path and Direct Path meditation, as they may be inauthentic. Rupert replies that while in this group, the community is mature enough to go directly to top-of-the-mountain meditation, she should tailor her understanding to the people who come to her. Give yourself permission to use a variety of pathways and let go of the program so you can be more spontaneous. Don't have a method; be sensitive and open. Find a way that is the easiest, most enjoyable, and uniquely tailored for each individual.

A woman, who has suffered from bipolar disorder for decades, offers to connect with anyone in the community who has similar difficulties. Rupert thanks her and tells a story about this woman's meeting with and lovely relationship with his mother, and the beautiful letters she wrote to his mother when she went into the care home.

A man expresses his gratitude and asks about dissolving the inside-outside distinction, drawing an analogy to Jane and Mary. Rupert replies that Jane and Mary were never separated in the first place. It is perception that creates a division between them. Mary and Jane were never truly separate, only from Jane's limited perspective. It's her perceiving faculties – thinking and perceiving – that divide experience into the external world and the internal self. Rupert quotes William Blake, saying: "This life’s dim windows of the soul / Distorts the heavens from pole to pole"; and, "Every bird that cuts the airy way is an immense world of delight, [enclosed by the five senses]."

A woman references the 'hairline crack' mentioned in this morning's meditation. Rupert elaborates that there is one experience that is not mediated through thought, and that is the 'I am'. There is this timeless, spaceless experience, the pure awareness of being, like a hairline crack in reality.

A woman says she believes that 'hairline crack' is available in intense mindfulness. Rupert responds that mindfulness is a progressive path practice, or watching objects of experience. He suggests adding one element, which is to watch the watcher rather than the objects.

A question is asked about infusing a sensation with space. Rupert clarifies that feelings, sensations, arise in empty space, and while they feel solid and dense, they can only be made of the empty, transparent space. Infuse the sensation with that empty space and it dissipates. This is a little more proactive than just being with the sensation. Surrender the density to the space as though it were a cloud surrendering itself to the emptiness of the sky, and it disappears.

A man recalls feeling immense joy and openness during the last retreat, but the positive emotions faded upon returning. Hoping to reclaim that experience, he attended this retreat. For the first four days, he felt the loving spirit of the community, but yesterday, a deep despair set in. Seeking advice, he turns to Rupert, who encourages him to focus on his real experiences and engage in self-enquiry for the next three minutes. Rupert says that you can go to being whenever you want.

A man asks about the word 'proud', a word he doesn't hear at the retreat as part of the understanding that there is no 'me'. He describes a life of alcoholism prior to encountering non-duality and the idea of an illusory self. What is on offer here is more than the world can ever offer. Rupert encourages him to go ahead and express his understanding to others, to open the door to liberation to all.

A man expresses that his heart wants to be here, but his body wants to go away. When he had previously been in rehab, he felt love for the first time. He experiences a conflict between wanting to open up and be seen, yet his body simultaneously wants to run away. Despite a desire to be part of the community, he feels a wall behind him. He shares his poem, called 'Healing with Love'. The man and Rupert then share a warm embrace.

A man asks for clarification about infinite awareness, which has no experience. Rupert responds that awareness has no objective knowledge because there is no subject–object relationship. It knows itself just by being itself. It is aware, but not of anything. Its awareness of itself is yourself. Rupert guides the man in self-enquiry to experience the answer to his question.

Is infinite awareness peace and happiness, and aren't those experiences? Rupert clarifies that it's like a grey-clouded sky with three openings through which you can see patches of blue. You wouldn't say there are three blue clouds. They're not blue clouds, they're blue sky unobscured by clouds. Peace, joy and happiness are the clouds that aren't clouds; they're the blue sky without clouds.

A woman enquiries about being friends with Rupert, acknowledging that she knows him more than he knows her. However, she recognises their shared being, and in this way, they both know each other very well. She then shares a poem she wrote and expresses gratitude for Rupert and everybody on the retreat.

A man says he has some difficulties with the teaching, in that he still suffers. Is it possible that he's still a fragment in the universe, and if not, why does he suffer? How do you know that we share the same 'I am'? Rupert asks if he suffers when he is deeply asleep, to which he responds 'no'. That is because there are not thoughts and perceptions. What happens to the being you are in deep sleep and the being you are now? They are the same self. And that being is always, always available.

A woman recounts an experience at Lincoln Cathedral. She had entered a side chapel, where she felt immense silence. Does this quality remain in certain places? Are we really porous? Rupert replies that yes, it is not only the prayer that remains in the building, but also the underlying principle that this building was built with. The reverence for the presence of God was in the DNA of the building before it was constructed. Because the design and construction were based on this, the building shines with God. Additionally, through centuries of praise, prayer, and worship, the whole space was sanctified, permeated with love and devotion that took place there. Now, the building gives back a radiance.

A woman with little meditation experience asks about images that come through her mind when she's meditating, which seem very real, but they're of unfamiliar places. Eventually she lost all track of time, and she felt a kind of emptiness. She asks for feedback about this experience. Rupert suggests that when you fall asleep at night, perception comes to an end, which leaves an empty space. You're enacting that same process in meditation. The emptiness indicates you're headed in the right direction.

A woman, who is a meditation teacher, says she now can't go back to teaching progressive path and Direct Path meditation, as they may be inauthentic. Rupert replies that while in this group, the community is mature enough to go directly to top-of-the-mountain meditation, she should tailor her understanding to the people who come to her. Give yourself permission to use a variety of pathways and let go of the program so you can be more spontaneous. Don't have a method; be sensitive and open. Find a way that is the easiest, most enjoyable, and uniquely tailored for each individual.

A woman, who has suffered from bipolar disorder for decades, offers to connect with anyone in the community who has similar difficulties. Rupert thanks her and tells a story about this woman's meeting with and lovely relationship with his mother, and the beautiful letters she wrote to his mother when she went into the care home.

A man expresses his gratitude and asks about dissolving the inside-outside distinction, drawing an analogy to Jane and Mary. Rupert replies that Jane and Mary were never separated in the first place. It is perception that creates a division between them. Mary and Jane were never truly separate, only from Jane's limited perspective. It's her perceiving faculties – thinking and perceiving – that divide experience into the external world and the internal self. Rupert quotes William Blake, saying: "This life’s dim windows of the soul / Distorts the heavens from pole to pole"; and, "Every bird that cuts the airy way is an immense world of delight, [enclosed by the five senses]."

A woman references the 'hairline crack' mentioned in this morning's meditation. Rupert elaborates that there is one experience that is not mediated through thought, and that is the 'I am'. There is this timeless, spaceless experience, the pure awareness of being, like a hairline crack in reality.

A woman says she believes that 'hairline crack' is available in intense mindfulness. Rupert responds that mindfulness is a progressive path practice, or watching objects of experience. He suggests adding one element, which is to watch the watcher rather than the objects.