Life is suffering–or, to put it in a more universally acceptable form, there is frustration, agitation, in the mind, and somehow we think this state can be negated by possession; for example, by acquiring a beautiful house, car, wife, a bank balance and the rest of it, we think we can buy happiness or perhaps we are not ambitious on the material level, and then we want to acquire virtue, inward poise, etc. Thus the mind, whether materialistic or so-called spiritual, is constantly trying to acquire one thing or another. this activity really is the mind, for would there be a mind at all in the total absence of all striving for the result?
The state of affairs as just described has come about because the mind at any level is concerned with satisfaction, and it thinks that satisfaction, the guaranteed continuity of gratification, signifies permanent happiness. But can satisfaction be permanent? Is the possession of a lovely home, a glamorous wife, and so on, in itself the basis for lasting happiness?
Gratification is the “satisfaction”, the elimination of a particular stimulus, and owing to the fact that any kind of gratification is always experienced against the background of Emptiness, which is our essential being–an emptiness which cannot be filled because gratification itself is of this emptiness–complete satisfaction is never possible. Thus, the residue of dissatisfaction left from any act of gratification gives rise to the desire for further gratification. Therefore the mind that merely seeks satisfaction, the release of its own tensions and stresses, is ever an agitated mind, a mind in distress.
Now happiness, deep inner contentment, is complete peace of mind, and therefore an experience of the Silent Mind: the very opposite of a mind driven on by desire in one form or another. There is a further, more fundamental, difference between satisfaction and the contentment born of the Silent Mind. The satisfied mind is a relative state, for can there ever be an end to satisfaction? You see, it is always possible to be more satisfied; to have a more beautiful house, a more impressive car, an even lovelier wife, a bigger bank balance, etc. A mind that is merely satisfied can always be tempted into action towards further acquisition if the right bait is presented. And although the mind may think it has enough in one particular direction, it only thinks on those lines because it is already busily engaged in expanding itself in other directions. For this is its essential nature–the incessant activity of pursuing the “more”--and without it, the mind would not be at all.
The state of the Silent Mind, on the other hand, is really much more than a mind in suspension; it is not, as might be thought, a static, dead thing. The Silent Mind has something “absolute” about it; in fact it is an absolute state for it has no continuity–it is ever flowing with the events–and is therefore not of time; such a mind cannot be tempted by the “more”, it is incorruptible, for its happiness does not allow of degrees; to it the description “fairly happy” means “not happy”. Nor is it bound by limits of space, for this mind has no frontiers, no resting place and contains no fixed point from which its thinking proceeds.
When we look at “action”, we see that all action springs from the mind’s deliberation, i.e., ideation. And what is ideation ultimately concerned with? With security–psychological as well as material–with various kinds of acquisitions and their safeguarding, with “conditions” which we think will favor our happiness, that is, ways to satisfy the mind. For how does the mind look upon satisfaction? Being bothered by desire, fear, it seeks to allay the agitation by appropriate action whereafter it will have got rid of the tiresome demands of the obtruding thoughts, feelings and emotions. This “getting rid of” it calls satisfaction. Thus, paradoxically, the mind is constantly engaged in a search for tranquility–the agitated mind’s own perverted solution to find its way back to the womb–but of course, as we all know, it never succeeds, for all satisfaction is temporary, which is the dulling of all sensitivity.
But supposing the mind gives up all preconceived ideas about what is good for itself, i.e., it is free from precedent which is its conditioning, is all this activity towards satisfaction then still necessary? Or is it then immediately in that state of tranquility for which it has striven so vainly, a state of satisfaction without object of satisfaction, that is, therefore also without fear, without anxiety that the object of its satisfaction may be taken away. But such a state of “satisfaction without object” must be quite different in quality from what is ordinarily called “satisfaction”, which is only the temporary dulling of a continual state of agitation, a moment’s suspension of the chain-reaction of desire. For in the state of satisfaction without object there can be no entity that is satisfied: this entity comes into being with “possession”, for it is only after the imagination has projected the “owner” that “desire” arises. For example, you see a beautiful car, or anything else you fancy, and immediately you play with the idea of being the owner, if only for a split second or largely subconsciously. The very word “fancy” seems to suggest ownership. Thus, with the creation of the “owner”, desire arises, that is, this whole process of the entity, identified with desire, seeking gratification.
When there is neither an entity that experiences satisfaction, nor an object of satisfaction, then an altogether different state prevails: a bliss, which, because it is independent of the phenomenal world, is immovable and imperishable. It is the eternal home of the Silent Mind.
That there are really two kinds of mind, corresponding to two entirely different modes of consciousness, is a little-known fact that cannot be demonstrated save in one’s own experience. Like every form of discrimination, this differentiation is not the setting up of a fundamental philosophy of Duality, but is created by the limited form of consciousness that needs duality for its expression. On the fundamental level both forms of mind are to be equated, just as Nirvana is Samsara (see also p. *)
We may say then that the ordinary mind–the only one we generally know and in the present context called the “analytical mind”--acts like a spotlight. Operating within the limits of space and time, it perceives in piece-meal fashion. Its proper function is to look after the body as a physical entity (food, clothing, shelter, means of livelihood, etc.). But when it goes beyond this in building up the “I” as a psychological entity, it creates nothing but mischief and suffering. Having given us the marvels of science and technology, it is also this mind which is responsible for the horrors of wars, concentration camps, etc. Its activity is basically expansionist, i.e., in the nature of clinging and grasping, for this expansion in space and time is its striving for “security”, for the greater glory of the “I”. The Silent Mind on the other hand acts like a floodlight: it perceives Reality in its totality,, and so goes beyond any limitation.
The analytical mind produces (and, also, is the product of) thought, which is based on “abstractions” (“things” and “ideas”) of a Reality which knows no “thingness” because it is indivisible and indefinable. This mind is therefore utterly incapable of knowing Reality. Since in the spiritual life we are not concerned with things that can be abstracted as entities in space and time, the analytical mind is entirely irrelevant. When it attempts to solve psychological problems it works on a false assumption, for it can only correlate, never understand or effect transformation (this mind cannot “control” happiness, for instance). When faced with suffering, it can only justify itself or seek an escape, but it cannot dissolve the torturing thoughts–because thought can never cleanse itself, as little as blood will wash off blood (we all know that worrying about our worries does not help–on the contrary). The analytical mind thus always strengthens itself, but sorrow only disappears when the analyser comes to an end.
The Silent Mind on the other hand is capable of complete and instantaneous understanding–because this mind is not based on memory, it is timeless. Being grounded in Reality, it is not merely the opposite of the analytical mind,, which is an empirical entity.
When there is the “stopping” of the analytical mind there is identification of memory with phenomena, bringing about the “self” as a center of desire; and this overlays the functioning of the Silent Mind. When, however, the analytical mind is no longer held by phenomena, it no longer “stops” (the end of conceptualized thought); there will then be an “experiencing without the experiencer, without the analyzer”--and hence the Silent Mind will come into its own. This is, however, not something to theorize about; it must be experienced. Then we shall find that there is a totally different state of Consciousness, free of the shackles of our normal limited consciousness. In that unlimited condition there is an immediate perception of Reality, without the need for the mind to build it up progressively,, bit by bit; in other words, the process of identifying memory, of time-binding, has been put out of action, and there is only living in the Now. This signifies the end of Fear, for Fear is always of tomorrow, and in this state there is no tomorrow.