Keep the Name 'I' Sacred in Your Heart

A woman asks for a definition for the words I, Love, God and ego. Rupert suggests that the name ‘I’ refers to awareness’s knowledge of itself. There is nothing in awareness because there is nothing in awareness other than itself. However, when awareness becomes mixed with the content of experience, that is the ego. Rupert uses the analogy of John Smith and King Lear to further elaborate. He then clarifies that I, Love and God are all the same. I is the pure self before it is limited being. God is the religious name for infinite self-aware being. Love is the recognition, the felt sense, that the essential being of each of is shared. We have different names because we talk about them in different contexts.

A woman who is able to rest in awareness is then pulled out of it throughout the day. She never notices while it’s happening; only after the fact. Is there any way to refine discernment? Rupert suggests that the only way to notice that we get pulled away is by noticing it. Over time, our noticing becomes more refined, and we notice sooner. After a while, we even feel the impulse to leave and catch ourself before we do.

A man comments on his love for the book 'I Am'. Rupert says that he notices that there are fewer words and more silences in his meditations. He is less inclined to elaborate longer lines of reasoning. They get shorter and more precise. He also notes that the people who are coming to the teaching are more refined. He suggests that someday our gathering may just be sitting in abidance and friendship.

A man comments on a phrase in the book 'Being Myself’ about keeping the ‘I’ sacred. Rupert suggests that he didn’t mean it literally. What he intended was to keep the name 'I' sacred in our heart as the divine name. When we think of our self, think of God's being.

A man says that when he is with another person it feels like two separate selves, not shared being – he asks why. Rupert suggests that we’ve all been conditioned to believe and feel that we are separate beings, so our default position is that. Rupert suggests that we consider that we have been conditioned to believe and feel that we are the same being and then ask the question, ‘How do I investigate whether or not being is separate?’ and see if we can find any separation. This gradually becomes the new norm.

A man, who is on retreat for the first time, asks if we are one then why don’t we know what one another is thinking. Rupert suggests that you are perceiving through a point of view, but you know that the you, that perceived your kitchen yesterday and the you that is now perceiving this room here, is the same. The content of experience is different, but that which experiences is the same. You are always the same self. Different points of view, but the same viewer.

A man asks about an ongoing contraction in the body and how to relate to it. Rupert suggests that it's a layer of experience, and that it’s not problematic. Being doesn’t need to practise. Practising is for the individual. Being doesn’t need a way of relating to this sensation. It's just present in experience.

A woman who says, though her life is good, when she goes to bed at night her mind comes up with terrifying thoughts. She asks if there is something to be done about it. Rupert asks if she is in touch with a feeling that underlies the thoughts and suggests that if the feeling were peace, then there would be no need to escape it. But if it isn’t peace, then there is something you are feeling that your thoughts are distracting you from. Hypervigilance has been cooped by the ego. There is nothing to be done, clear seeing of the emotion is enough. It's not the thoughts that you have to be able to live with for the rest of your life, it is the feeling of lack.

A man asks what is meant by the word ‘one’ or ‘oneness’. Rupert says that he prefers the word ‘indivisible’. It is one; but it appears as the many. While there seem to be clear distinctions between the people, the distinctions are in appearance, not in the reality. The screen is one, but the images on the screen are numerous.

A man who is translating the poem ‘I Am’ into Chinese asks about a line that appeared twice in different contexts: I move, but I am motionless. Rupert says that the repetition just slipped under the radar in the editing process and that they mean the same thing in both instances. The screen is motionless and the movie is moving, but they are the same thing.

A man comments on how Rupert is getting more economical with his words. Rupert says that he is doing now with language what he used to do with pottery, refining and refining. He shared that there came a point in his studio where he just couldn’t go any further and stopped and suggests there may be a time when his words will become so refined that there will just be abidance and community.

A man asks for clarity on how we bring up repressed emotions. Rupert suggests that as we abide in the self, they are welcome to stay because they have no impact. From the point of view of awareness, these feelings are not unpleasant. Awareness, by definition, is without resistance and therefore what the separate self considers to be an unbearable emotion is from, awareness’s point of view, a ripple of energy passing through it.

A woman, who was facing death but is now recovering, expresses gratitude for the peace and joy she feels, and for Rupert’s role in helping her with that.

A woman asks how we got it so wrong for so long with this separate self. Rupert suggests that we believe the evidence of our sense perceptions. Our senses told us the Earth was flat and we used to believe that. Sense perception refracts reality and then the mind names and abstracts objects. Perceiving and thinking creates the appearance of separate things and then we forget that separation only seems to be created. We think it is an accurate view of reality.

A woman, who is struggling with fear and loss, resists the idea of impermanence. Rupert suggests that we ‘take off’ thinking and perceiving and sensing and feeling, which always come and go. The remedy for the fear of loss, or impermanence, is not to work on the loss or impermanence, it is to recognise what cannot be lost. The fear will cease as a consequence of recognising what cannot be lost. In mourning, we let go of that which can be let go of, and must be let go of, in order for that which remains present to become more fully felt.

A woman wonders about letting go in relation to pain that she has. Rupert suggests that the suggestion to let go is given as a compassionate concession to the individual so that we might mimic the quality that is already inherent in awareness. You feel that you are the open, empty space of awareness and the pain you feel as a sensation is arising in that. Awareness doesn't hold on to any experience and, for that reason, it doesn't have to practice letting go.

A woman asks for a definition for the words I, Love, God and ego. Rupert suggests that the name ‘I’ refers to awareness’s knowledge of itself. There is nothing in awareness because there is nothing in awareness other than itself. However, when awareness becomes mixed with the content of experience, that is the ego. Rupert uses the analogy of John Smith and King Lear to further elaborate. He then clarifies that I, Love and God are all the same. I is the pure self before it is limited being. God is the religious name for infinite self-aware being. Love is the recognition, the felt sense, that the essential being of each of is shared. We have different names because we talk about them in different contexts.

A woman who is able to rest in awareness is then pulled out of it throughout the day. She never notices while it’s happening; only after the fact. Is there any way to refine discernment? Rupert suggests that the only way to notice that we get pulled away is by noticing it. Over time, our noticing becomes more refined, and we notice sooner. After a while, we even feel the impulse to leave and catch ourself before we do.

A man comments on his love for the book 'I Am'. Rupert says that he notices that there are fewer words and more silences in his meditations. He is less inclined to elaborate longer lines of reasoning. They get shorter and more precise. He also notes that the people who are coming to the teaching are more refined. He suggests that someday our gathering may just be sitting in abidance and friendship.

A man comments on a phrase in the book 'Being Myself’ about keeping the ‘I’ sacred. Rupert suggests that he didn’t mean it literally. What he intended was to keep the name 'I' sacred in our heart as the divine name. When we think of our self, think of God's being.

A man says that when he is with another person it feels like two separate selves, not shared being – he asks why. Rupert suggests that we’ve all been conditioned to believe and feel that we are separate beings, so our default position is that. Rupert suggests that we consider that we have been conditioned to believe and feel that we are the same being and then ask the question, ‘How do I investigate whether or not being is separate?’ and see if we can find any separation. This gradually becomes the new norm.

A man, who is on retreat for the first time, asks if we are one then why don’t we know what one another is thinking. Rupert suggests that you are perceiving through a point of view, but you know that the you, that perceived your kitchen yesterday and the you that is now perceiving this room here, is the same. The content of experience is different, but that which experiences is the same. You are always the same self. Different points of view, but the same viewer.

A man asks about an ongoing contraction in the body and how to relate to it. Rupert suggests that it's a layer of experience, and that it’s not problematic. Being doesn’t need to practise. Practising is for the individual. Being doesn’t need a way of relating to this sensation. It's just present in experience.

A woman who says, though her life is good, when she goes to bed at night her mind comes up with terrifying thoughts. She asks if there is something to be done about it. Rupert asks if she is in touch with a feeling that underlies the thoughts and suggests that if the feeling were peace, then there would be no need to escape it. But if it isn’t peace, then there is something you are feeling that your thoughts are distracting you from. Hypervigilance has been cooped by the ego. There is nothing to be done, clear seeing of the emotion is enough. It's not the thoughts that you have to be able to live with for the rest of your life, it is the feeling of lack.

A man asks what is meant by the word ‘one’ or ‘oneness’. Rupert says that he prefers the word ‘indivisible’. It is one; but it appears as the many. While there seem to be clear distinctions between the people, the distinctions are in appearance, not in the reality. The screen is one, but the images on the screen are numerous.

A man who is translating the poem ‘I Am’ into Chinese asks about a line that appeared twice in different contexts: I move, but I am motionless. Rupert says that the repetition just slipped under the radar in the editing process and that they mean the same thing in both instances. The screen is motionless and the movie is moving, but they are the same thing.

A man comments on how Rupert is getting more economical with his words. Rupert says that he is doing now with language what he used to do with pottery, refining and refining. He shared that there came a point in his studio where he just couldn’t go any further and stopped and suggests there may be a time when his words will become so refined that there will just be abidance and community.

A man asks for clarity on how we bring up repressed emotions. Rupert suggests that as we abide in the self, they are welcome to stay because they have no impact. From the point of view of awareness, these feelings are not unpleasant. Awareness, by definition, is without resistance and therefore what the separate self considers to be an unbearable emotion is from, awareness’s point of view, a ripple of energy passing through it.

A woman, who was facing death but is now recovering, expresses gratitude for the peace and joy she feels, and for Rupert’s role in helping her with that.

A woman asks how we got it so wrong for so long with this separate self. Rupert suggests that we believe the evidence of our sense perceptions. Our senses told us the Earth was flat and we used to believe that. Sense perception refracts reality and then the mind names and abstracts objects. Perceiving and thinking creates the appearance of separate things and then we forget that separation only seems to be created. We think it is an accurate view of reality.

A woman, who is struggling with fear and loss, resists the idea of impermanence. Rupert suggests that we ‘take off’ thinking and perceiving and sensing and feeling, which always come and go. The remedy for the fear of loss, or impermanence, is not to work on the loss or impermanence, it is to recognise what cannot be lost. The fear will cease as a consequence of recognising what cannot be lost. In mourning, we let go of that which can be let go of, and must be let go of, in order for that which remains present to become more fully felt.

A woman wonders about letting go in relation to pain that she has. Rupert suggests that the suggestion to let go is given as a compassionate concession to the individual so that we might mimic the quality that is already inherent in awareness. You feel that you are the open, empty space of awareness and the pain you feel as a sensation is arising in that. Awareness doesn't hold on to any experience and, for that reason, it doesn't have to practice letting go.