Who Is Listening?

A man seeks clarity on the saying, ’using a thorn to remove a thorn’, and he reflects on whether he may be subtly reifying being as an entity. Rupert explains that this phrase resembles the Sufi tradition of the passing away of existence and the passing away of that passing away. He describes how formulations that awareness is ever-present, peaceful, fulfilled and loving arise in response to our usual experience of impermanence, agitation, sorrow and separation. Though assigning these qualities to awareness is legitimate, it is not the absolute truth; they ultimately dissolve, leaving only the silent knowing of ‘I am’.

A woman asks how the infinite shines through appearances if it has no light. Rupert explains that, from the perspective of the finite mind, the infinite appears dark, like an empty void. He uses the example of medieval paintings, where gold leaf outlines people and objects – not as literal light seen by the monks who painted them, but as a visual representation. The gold symbolises how the world shines with being; it is not seen with the eyes but intimates the isness of all things.

A woman recognises the experience of ‘I am’, but her mind finds no satisfactory answers to explain it. Rupert acknowledges that the mind cannot truly say anything beyond ‘I am’, and any answers it offers are only provisional, relative to the mind’s perspective. He explains that the purpose of the teaching is to uproot ignorance, and once it has fulfilled this role, the teaching itself must be thrown away, as nothing it conveys beyond ‘I am’ holds true.

A man wonders what is incorrect about adding ‘I am conscious’ to the statement ‘I am’. Rupert reflects that it is only possible to say for certain ‘I am’ because one knows that one is; thus, the knowing is implicit in the statement ‘I am’. To say ‘I am conscious’ adds nothing, for ‘I am’ is already the highest of the high, the purest formulation of absolute truth.

A woman shares that her practice centres on surrendering into being, and that morning, following the guidance to imagine herself falling asleep, she drifted into deep rest until the end of meditation. Rupert says that she is doing exactly the right thing; she fell asleep whilst remaining awake. He explains that when one surrenders one’s experience, it’s a letting go of experience. This surrendering is a natural replica of falling asleep, bringing one to one’s natural, peaceful condition.

A woman shares she has experienced the feeling of ‘I am’ and wonders if there is another step, like ‘I am all’ or ‘I am that’. Rupert reflects that ‘I am’ is higher than the statement ‘I am that’, as the latter implies a subject-object relationship, a subtle duality. He explains that awareness has no ‘that’ – it knows no other.

A woman, asking about prayer, shares that she has a loved one struggling with illness and wishes to pray for her deepest well-being. Rupert speaks of three types of prayer: first, when we ask God for something; second, when we thank God for everything; and third, the highest form, when we sound the divine name ‘I am’ within our mind and allow ourself to be drawn into its referent. He assures her that each form of prayer is beautiful and suggests she follow whichever prayer corresponds with her love and understanding.

A man shares how his mind feels it is missing something, that meaning and purpose have dissolved from activities and relationships once beloved. Rupert reflects that when happiness is no longer invested in the content of experience, things like a favourite ice cream no longer hold the same promise. Some relationships and activities inevitably fall away, while others are purified of the need to find happiness and flourish as a result.

A man enquires about the difference between friendship and intimate relationship. Rupert says that intimate relationship is friendship with benefits. He explains that friendship is an expression of our shared being, the most natural way to express and celebrate our unity. Even a simple act, like smiling at the stranger while passing them on the street is a little expression of love.

A man asks Rupert to elaborate on the highest of the highest teachings, which he described as too disconcerting for the finite mind to fully comprehend. Rupert speaks of Ajātivāda, the understanding that there is no creation, manifestation, or even appearance of manifestation; in reality’s view of itself, nothing exists. Reality, as infinite being, experiences only itself, beyond all subject-object duality, and so this highest teaching cannot be expressed or brought down to the level of the finite mind.

A man asks Rupert how to coax someone into the state of being when they experience pain and anxiety from chronic health problems. Rupert says that if the direct approach feels too radical due to the intensity of their experience, he would interpose intermediary steps. He suggests that paying attention to the breath offers a neutral, transparent object of awareness that eases attention away from pain or anxiety.

A man asks, when Rupert talks to friends, to whom is he speaking. Rupert says that right now he is speaking to him. Being doesn’t need any teaching, and the separate self does not exist as such. He tells the man not to worry about who he’s talking to, but rather to be concerned with who is listening.

A man expresses gratitude to Rupert for dropping the word ‘yoga’ from the name of the meditation sessions.

A woman expresses a sense of detachment and reduced reactivity to her surroundings, wondering how to balance detachment with love, especially with her family, which is in pain. Rupert clarifies that detachment is not part of his teaching. While stepping back from feelings may lessen their power to absorb us, this can feel cold and detached; it is essential to return to one’s feelings and feel fully, as feeling is pure sensitivity. Each of us has a natural sphere of influence – some focusing love on family and close ones, others extending it widely – reflecting the frequency where our body-mind is comfortable in the world.

A woman describes her life as repetitive, like in the movie ‘Groundhog Day’, with routines of working, cooking and cleaning. She wonders about creativity. Rupert speaks of two ways the infinite may appear in one’s life: for some, like the artist, it enters as vertical interruptions – moments of inspiration breaking the horizontal flow of thoughts and activities. For others, whom Eckhart Tolle calls ‘frequency holders’, the infinite shows as a golden thread of being, quietly weaving through each experience, giving life a sense of sameness – the one taste of being, perhaps a little less colourful, yet no less beautiful than the artist’s life.

A woman asks if the infinite creates the finite. Rupert says that the infinite knows nothing of the finite; the finite doesn’t exist for the infinite. The finite is only such from the point of view of the finite. From its perspective, the finite projects its own limitations onto the infinite, imagining a creator God.

A man speaks of a deep, objectless longing and wonders if this is his being. Rupert reflects that the man’s understanding has moved beyond seeking conventional or spiritual objects. Yet, the existential longing remains, bringing two possibilities: despair, with no object to fulfil it, or a subsidence into being. This longing is the final trace of the separate self, outliving deep and genuine understanding, and it cannot be reasoned or practised away. Only self-soaking, self-resting and self-abiding gradually dissolve this last residue of longing.

A man seeks clarity on the saying, ’using a thorn to remove a thorn’, and he reflects on whether he may be subtly reifying being as an entity. Rupert explains that this phrase resembles the Sufi tradition of the passing away of existence and the passing away of that passing away. He describes how formulations that awareness is ever-present, peaceful, fulfilled and loving arise in response to our usual experience of impermanence, agitation, sorrow and separation. Though assigning these qualities to awareness is legitimate, it is not the absolute truth; they ultimately dissolve, leaving only the silent knowing of ‘I am’.

A woman asks how the infinite shines through appearances if it has no light. Rupert explains that, from the perspective of the finite mind, the infinite appears dark, like an empty void. He uses the example of medieval paintings, where gold leaf outlines people and objects – not as literal light seen by the monks who painted them, but as a visual representation. The gold symbolises how the world shines with being; it is not seen with the eyes but intimates the isness of all things.

A woman recognises the experience of ‘I am’, but her mind finds no satisfactory answers to explain it. Rupert acknowledges that the mind cannot truly say anything beyond ‘I am’, and any answers it offers are only provisional, relative to the mind’s perspective. He explains that the purpose of the teaching is to uproot ignorance, and once it has fulfilled this role, the teaching itself must be thrown away, as nothing it conveys beyond ‘I am’ holds true.

A man wonders what is incorrect about adding ‘I am conscious’ to the statement ‘I am’. Rupert reflects that it is only possible to say for certain ‘I am’ because one knows that one is; thus, the knowing is implicit in the statement ‘I am’. To say ‘I am conscious’ adds nothing, for ‘I am’ is already the highest of the high, the purest formulation of absolute truth.

A woman shares that her practice centres on surrendering into being, and that morning, following the guidance to imagine herself falling asleep, she drifted into deep rest until the end of meditation. Rupert says that she is doing exactly the right thing; she fell asleep whilst remaining awake. He explains that when one surrenders one’s experience, it’s a letting go of experience. This surrendering is a natural replica of falling asleep, bringing one to one’s natural, peaceful condition.

A woman shares she has experienced the feeling of ‘I am’ and wonders if there is another step, like ‘I am all’ or ‘I am that’. Rupert reflects that ‘I am’ is higher than the statement ‘I am that’, as the latter implies a subject-object relationship, a subtle duality. He explains that awareness has no ‘that’ – it knows no other.

A woman, asking about prayer, shares that she has a loved one struggling with illness and wishes to pray for her deepest well-being. Rupert speaks of three types of prayer: first, when we ask God for something; second, when we thank God for everything; and third, the highest form, when we sound the divine name ‘I am’ within our mind and allow ourself to be drawn into its referent. He assures her that each form of prayer is beautiful and suggests she follow whichever prayer corresponds with her love and understanding.

A man shares how his mind feels it is missing something, that meaning and purpose have dissolved from activities and relationships once beloved. Rupert reflects that when happiness is no longer invested in the content of experience, things like a favourite ice cream no longer hold the same promise. Some relationships and activities inevitably fall away, while others are purified of the need to find happiness and flourish as a result.

A man enquires about the difference between friendship and intimate relationship. Rupert says that intimate relationship is friendship with benefits. He explains that friendship is an expression of our shared being, the most natural way to express and celebrate our unity. Even a simple act, like smiling at the stranger while passing them on the street is a little expression of love.

A man asks Rupert to elaborate on the highest of the highest teachings, which he described as too disconcerting for the finite mind to fully comprehend. Rupert speaks of Ajātivāda, the understanding that there is no creation, manifestation, or even appearance of manifestation; in reality’s view of itself, nothing exists. Reality, as infinite being, experiences only itself, beyond all subject-object duality, and so this highest teaching cannot be expressed or brought down to the level of the finite mind.

A man asks Rupert how to coax someone into the state of being when they experience pain and anxiety from chronic health problems. Rupert says that if the direct approach feels too radical due to the intensity of their experience, he would interpose intermediary steps. He suggests that paying attention to the breath offers a neutral, transparent object of awareness that eases attention away from pain or anxiety.

A man asks, when Rupert talks to friends, to whom is he speaking. Rupert says that right now he is speaking to him. Being doesn’t need any teaching, and the separate self does not exist as such. He tells the man not to worry about who he’s talking to, but rather to be concerned with who is listening.

A man expresses gratitude to Rupert for dropping the word ‘yoga’ from the name of the meditation sessions.

A woman expresses a sense of detachment and reduced reactivity to her surroundings, wondering how to balance detachment with love, especially with her family, which is in pain. Rupert clarifies that detachment is not part of his teaching. While stepping back from feelings may lessen their power to absorb us, this can feel cold and detached; it is essential to return to one’s feelings and feel fully, as feeling is pure sensitivity. Each of us has a natural sphere of influence – some focusing love on family and close ones, others extending it widely – reflecting the frequency where our body-mind is comfortable in the world.

A woman describes her life as repetitive, like in the movie ‘Groundhog Day’, with routines of working, cooking and cleaning. She wonders about creativity. Rupert speaks of two ways the infinite may appear in one’s life: for some, like the artist, it enters as vertical interruptions – moments of inspiration breaking the horizontal flow of thoughts and activities. For others, whom Eckhart Tolle calls ‘frequency holders’, the infinite shows as a golden thread of being, quietly weaving through each experience, giving life a sense of sameness – the one taste of being, perhaps a little less colourful, yet no less beautiful than the artist’s life.

A woman asks if the infinite creates the finite. Rupert says that the infinite knows nothing of the finite; the finite doesn’t exist for the infinite. The finite is only such from the point of view of the finite. From its perspective, the finite projects its own limitations onto the infinite, imagining a creator God.

A man speaks of a deep, objectless longing and wonders if this is his being. Rupert reflects that the man’s understanding has moved beyond seeking conventional or spiritual objects. Yet, the existential longing remains, bringing two possibilities: despair, with no object to fulfil it, or a subsidence into being. This longing is the final trace of the separate self, outliving deep and genuine understanding, and it cannot be reasoned or practised away. Only self-soaking, self-resting and self-abiding gradually dissolve this last residue of longing.