Meditation

Meditation Is Rebellion

by

Like many people I meditate. My specific technique is based on Thomas Cleary’s translation of The Secret of The Golden Flower. I breathe slow and regular, mind on breath, tuning it all the time, returning my mind to the breath when distracted. There is more to be said – I mean this is from an entire book said to be written by Lu Dong-Bin himself – but that’s the basics.

I often think about meditations (and yes, I realize the irony). Recently, I realized this simple process sometime feels like rebellion.

I’m sitting there just breathing and watching myself breathe. I’m not busy trying to be my idea of myself. I’m not trying to be what other people expected me to be. I’m there, but I’m not being any one of the me’s I could be. Just breathing.

I’m not doing anything but breathing and watching. I’m not doing anything or taking any action or making anything. I’m not a job or a position or part of the economy or whatever. Just breathing.

I’m not “doing it perfectly.” I’m just doing what I do, mind on breath and breath on mind. There’s no “perfection” or someone else telling me what to do. In fact, The Secret of the Golden Flower doesn’t even talk perfection (it’s a very pleasant read, honestly).

I’m not even doing some deep metaphysical analysis or exercise – that’d be a distraction from my mind on my breath and my breath on my mind. There I am, engaged in what some would think of as a mystical act, I’m not particularly mystical or acting. Yes, things may happen, but it’s not the goal.

There’s something incredibly rebellious about just being there but not trying to be or do anything. The pure realness of the experience is unclassifiable.

So, that’s a small bit of sharing from me to you – I assume if you read my writings you mediate or consider it. Maybe it’ll give you a way to look at your meditation with a fresher, different, view.

And you can also ask what you and I are rebelling against.

– Xenofact

And So Words Become Part of Us

by

I have many copies of the Tao Te Ching in my library.  I found joy in reading different translations because I found new insights each time and learned about the different translators.  One copy could provide lessons no other could, and together they were more powerful.

Regretfully, I had not read any of my copies in a while.  When I remediated this, I found something interesting happening after reading two or three translations – I felt the words in the book as much as I read them.  This feeling helped me gain insights and even led to some well-needed behavior and personal changes to deal with certain challenges.

(Specifically, this happened while reading the Red Pine translation, an excellent one, but one to read after you’ve gone through some easier translations)

In my younger years, I would read philosophical and meditative writings and then be frustrated at how hard it was to “change myself.”  With study and time, I found that personal growth or exploring mental and mystical spaces took work.  Mental and mystical journeys are oft one foot in front of another, and trying to jump ahead risks frustration or delusion.

Words inspire, guide, and inform but they are not a destination.  Now I saw they were also their own form of meditation.

I realized my reading of the Tao Te Ching had been a kind of exercise or meditation.  Anyone familiar with the book knows the small chapters, well-translated, can be very evocative.  I had soaked these in by reading and rereading nearly two dozen different copies, and now reading them brought forth lessons old and new.  The words had become part of me.

Reading words and trying to bash our thoughts into place to follow them is too easy to do and usually fails.  These experiences are a reminder that reading and rereading (or hearing and rehearing) wise words and transformative thoughts is a meditation.  We have to give words time to work their way into our minds, to be analyzed, felt, and understood.

I’m sure we’ve all heard stories of sages, holy men, hermits, and mystics who would read and reread a certain book.  Now I understand their efforts much more.

– Xenofact

The Map Is The Mirage

by

Earlier I commented on how my own meditative work was slowed when I focused less on doing it and more on reaching milestones.  When I focused on milestones, I got frustrated or risked taking shortcuts.  When you have a map, you can forget the importance of the journey – and no matter what you still have to make the journey.

This was part of a realization of why many esoteric documents may resort to obscurity and symbolism.  Too much of a map, and you end up inviting frustration and confusion.  However, I want to share another realization from my “contemplation of maps” – that detailed “mystical maps” also invite self delusion.

One of my interests is keeping an eye on spiritual grifters (indeed, it comprises a surprising part of my podcast listening).  As I follow the grifters I also wonder about the followers.  These followers will report spiritual experiences, alien incarnations, but heir descriptions were filled with jargon, repeated conspiracy theories, and so on.  They seem quite sincere, but their experiences often seemed to be, well, a little too imagined.

I’m sure we’ve all had times in meditation or magic where we realized “I am deluding myself,” of course.  Remember when you had expectations and later realized you’d made some of it up?  When you map out experiences you can make yourself believe you’re experiencing them.

I think some people taken in by spiritual grifters imagine these experiences as the grifter gives them a map.  Do this meditation to awaken your starseed self, be it Blue Avian or Pleadean!  Do these meditations and you’ll experience Angel communication!  Tell people their needs are met by “doing x to get y,” throw in some social pressure, and people will imagine all sorts of things.

Plus the grifters get to sell books, amulets, talks, get internet exposure, and so on.  If it goes stale, just make up some new grift and do it all over again.  Some people selling spiritual ephemera go through multiple entire belief systems.

Thus we can see another reason for use of symbolism or a little obscurity in mystical documents.  Not providing too much of a map lowers the chance people will delude themselves.  I imagine finding the right balance is a challenge, and makes me appreciate the many monks, magicians, and philosophers who found it.

As a closing note, as stated earlier, I believe mystic practices are fundamentally liberating and should be shared far and wide.  I’m just realizing it’s good to require some work, skepticism, and analysis of those you’re trying to reach.

– Xenofact