Repetition of the Pattern

Rationalization, that is economic and elegant utilization
  of a pattern, is of the essence of intelligence.

Unnecessary and automatic repetition of a pattern is
  the essence of stupidity.   

The Silent Mind, as is already implicit in its name, cannot be acquired.  It is or it is not.  It comes into being only when the analytical mind (i.e. our normal mind) has fully understood that analysis is not the way to liberation from sorrow.  The analytical process takes time, it is accumulative, for it is gathering knowledge of the past, we try to understand the present, which is ever flowing.  As soon as we have analyzed one particular aspect of the mind, its totality has already changed.  Therefore the analytical mind can never fully catch up with what is: its analysis is never complete, always fragmentary.  

The analytical mind that makes an effort to transform itself into the Silent Mind is merely projecting from its hearsay about the Silent Mind.  It is the projection from an “idea”; therefore this operation is still wholly within the field of the analytical mind, and so can never lead to a transformation.  But the moment the analytical mind has seen all this, and realized that the past can never understand the present, there is a pause in its activity–and in this silence there is a revolution in the mind.  In that very moment the Silent Mind is born, which, because it is thus free from continuity is in a state of Freedom.

 The two fundamentally different modes of seeing (i.e., understanding) with the mind seem to be somewhat analogous to the two fundamentally different modes of seeing with the eye, as evidenced by the anatomy of the retina and the mechanics of vision, it is almost as though Nature repeats a pattern which it has found useful.  Although we may not be aware of it, normal vision is really made up of two components: central and peripheral vision.  In the former only the central part of the retina is involved.  This kind of sight is very sharp, but is restricted to a small area, and the eye is therefore obliged to scan the field of vision, to take in the information bit by bit.  Peripheral vision, on the other hand, is made possible by the peripheral part of the retina.  This type of vision has no great acuity, but it takes in the whole field of vision all at once, so that there is no need for scanning.

The analytical mind resembles in its mode of functioning central vision, moving from point to point, and needing time to take in the whole picture–and even then it is dependent on memory.  The Silent Mind is like peripheral vision; its perception is all–embracing, immediate, and it does not rely on memory.

The person whose peripheral vision is disturbed, although able to read the finest print, will be almost as helpless as a blind man in moving about.  Are we, who do not know the Silent Mind, not equally blind, equally helpless, in our lack of discrimination between false and real values?  Moreover, not knowing anything but the process of the intellect, we do not know what a precious instrument the mind potentially is, we do not know how to Live.

Few people seem to have discovered these two basic modes of mental functioning, and fewer still have voiced their discovery.  The following quotation represents a rare example where an academically informed mind very aptly describes what it has discovered about itself. 

*“There are two ways of understanding: a phenomenon in nature may reveal itself to me so that I know it as an immediate truth.  This understanding demands nothing, touches nothing, and leaves the other entirely free and respected.  This matter is the kind that arises from love.  Opposed to it is the scientific, analytic understanding of facts.  The scientific understanding is for every restless, never satisfied.  Inherent in the dissecting scientific method is that its results can be used only for manipulation, control and attempts to change.” (Joseph Schorstein, the distinguished neurological surgeon in paper “The Present State of Consciousness” Penguin Science Survey 1963 B.)

Note that the author has correctly understood that the analytical mind can only function mechanically (“manipulate, control”) which is not understanding, and that the farthest it can go is at “attempts to change”.  However, the attempt to change is not change; it is merely the perpetuation of conflict, the modification of the Old, and therefore not mutation. Mutation can only be when the analytical mind is momentarily paralyzed, which occurs the moment it sees itself in its totality, undistorted and undisguised, in the mirror of relationship–and such seeing brings with it the fullest understanding possible. 

*To be thus jolted into self-awareness implies the discovery: “my life to date has been lived altogether wrongly”; and to say this without moral judgment and without regret.  If there is judgment, it results from my conditioning, from “idea”, and again implies an attempt to change.  If there is regret, my new state is a reaction from the old; I maintain a feeling of continuity, of time, and so I am still bound by my old way of living.  The “new” way we are talking about is altogether free from the old: it is a rebirth in the truest sense of the word.  It does not come about by any positive action on my part, but becomes a fact as soon as I have seen completely the falseness of the old, and have died to it all.

“Stopping the Mind”, Temptation and Let-Go

   Before proceeding any further, the author would like to dwell for a moment on a point of terminology which could easily lead to confusion.  Some readers may have noticed an apparent contradiction between the statement that through self-knowing the analytical mind is paralyzed, and a paragraph contained in a previous chapter where the “stopping” of the analytical mind was discussed.  The term stands between quotation marks, because it is a Zen technical term which by no means indicates purely and simply “cessation”.  One might say that the “paralysis” we have spoken of in this chapter is in the nature of a let-go, a release from a cramp-like state.  The “stopping”, on the other hand, is a seizing up of the whole works of intelligence with the intrusion of a self-concern.  Far from the mind falling silent, as the term might superficially suggest, it is the setting into motion of a spasm of cerebration.  Thought chases thought, but always within the limitations of the pattern, and so in this sense only–the imprisonment of thought within a circle of the self–there is a stopping or arresting, a psychological blockage.  Thus all energy is deviated and drained away in the vortex of self.

   To clarify this further, we may perhaps approach the matter slightly differently.  Some people think that the difference between liking the things that come their way, and chasing them,going out of their way to “get” them, is infinitesimal.  In the author’s view, there is literally all the difference in the world between these two attitudes.  As soon as we take the latter position, we feed the center, the “me”, and so “stop” the mind.  “Temptation” is this tendency of the mind to “stop”, representing the beginning of enslavement, the cultivation of likes and dislikes.  The moment the mind “stops”, it no longer regards all phenomena with an equal eye, but is caught by them; that is, it gives the illusory and transient phenomena some absolute existence–and the “fascination” it derives from “pleasant” ones is taken for happiness.  The same applies, of course, to “unpleasant” phenomena–but in this way the mind cultivates fear and sorrow.  When faced with a fact it does not like, the mind engages in furious thinking, as though through this activity it could change the fact.  It persists in weighing the fact in terms of hope and despair, comfort and discomfort, until it has drawn the last drop of comfort out of the disturbing fact.  We never squarely face the fact regardless of our personal predilections–and so thought has become a barrier to the perception of what is.  

Life, Existence, Nature–call it by whatever name you like–is really the fulfillment at any moment of an infinite number of possibilities, in which nothing is impossible that is not inherently a contradiction. It is therefore the expression of absolute freedom.  Yet, despite the endless combinations and permutations of potentialities, all realizing themselves and interacting randomly, certain patterns, regularities or “Laws of Nature”, become noticeable within the texture of this freedom.  Man has lost this dimension of freedom, because he is held in a pattern of a different kind, that of his self-imposed limitations, which has become his prison. 

Ideally, personal liberty should be like the freedom of Nature.  It should be, above all, the freedom to realize within oneself all possibilities, regardless of social evaluation as “good” or “bad”.  This implies the total abolition of any form of moral authority, any kind of external interference, so that the mind is completely fluid, without resistance.  Then, in that freedom there can be the perception of things as they are, without the distorting influence of fear; and this truthful perception brings its own action.  Because it is not based upon fear of punishment or reward for so-called goodness, it is wholly unself-ish and may therefore be called “right action”; thus the free person is the truly moral one.

Contrary to popular opinion, personal freedom is therefore not merely the freedom to do as one likes (for this again would be falling for the rewards, the fruits of one’s actions), but primarily the freedom from fear, which impedes true discrimination.  The important point is that the free person acts “morally” (in the true sense) while not being conscious of his righteousness.  He does not abstain from the non-moral act out of compulsion as the “respectable” person does (the very word “abstain” implies restraint, resistance).  The free person does not know “temptation”, nor does he know what is called “good” and what is called “bad”, he is innocent of all of that, and therefore does not and could not judge–yet all his actions are unfailingly right.  One might say that he comes to his correct action immediately, without thought, without prior elimination of alternative possibilities (all of which is implied in “choice”)

Man is ever increasing his outward freedom, which comes from technical capacity, but he has lost this inward freedom because he is bothered by his conscience (which faithfully reflects the arbitrary public morality of his background), his guilt and his insecurity.  Yet without inner freedom, the outer freedom has no meaning.

It will thus be appreciated that the patterns of safety, to which man clings through not knowing where his real Freedom lies, are of an entirely different order from the patterns which Nature displays, which are the very expression of that Freedom.  It is important to distinguish between these two kinds of pattern which, wherever there is an ego, are superimposed.

Importance of the Pattern in Nature

   The basic patterns observable in Nature give an impression of some underlying Intelligence, yet they are inherent in absolute freedom, and perfectly compatible with the interplay of random forces.  This situation often gives rise to considerable confusion in the mind of the dualistically thinking observer, who is induced to look for a teleological explanation.  Having spotted what he thinks is design, he starts searching for its creator–rather than ponder whether this “design” is perhaps not inherent in Reality, a manifestation of the Timeless into the world of time.

   Both in Nature and in Man’s mental functioning we can witness the repetition of a multitude of patterns; and we must be extremely careful not to be taken in by this superficial similarity.  Let us first look at some examples where Nature repeats a set pattern, which, as it were, it has hit upon and found workable.  There is, for instance, a striking similarity between the mode of the atom and that of the solar system; and, as I was informed recently, the model of the atomic nucleus may turn out to be similar as well (solar system within solar system!). 

  Let us consider here a practical application of the either/or principle in personal living.  Either I am totally nothing, or I am somebody–there is no in-between.  Feeling “unhappy”, I try to become happy by surrounding myself with psychologically favorable, “encouraging”, circumstances–that is what we are all doing.  However, such action necessarily presupposes that I am “somebody”.  (“Why should I not be ‘unhappy’, like millions of others; why set myself apart?  If I am totally nothing, then my ‘being unhappy’, looked at objectively, does not matter the least and my present state should not be meddled with.”)  So, since any “doing” is incompatible with the truth, which is that I am nobody, I cannot do anything.  Yet, merely doing nothing,, like the psychologically lazy, does not bring relief either–for this non-doing is really sleep and deepens the state of being unconscious of myself.  Therefore I must see why I cannot do anything.  Thus, enlightenment is brought about only within the tension of the equilibrium doing/non-doing, that is, when we fully and clearly see the either/or principle in operation in the depth of our psychological being.  It is hoped that this example has demonstrated that in the spiritual life we cannot expect to proceed through thesis and antithesis to synthesis, which is exclusively the way of the intellect, leading ever to further synthesis, further modifications, but never to mutation (transformation).

*Patterns in the Human Mind

    As already stated, human consciousness evinces, like Nature, many basic patterns ever repeated in endless variations.  Think only of the patterns of thought and speech which distinguish the different classes in our society; the patterns of thought which are implied in certain types of humor, when unfamiliarity with the patterns can make a joke completely meaningless.  Andis not Desire repetition of the pattern held up by Society?  Are not fashions the playing about with the pattern of Desire: a small substitution here, an extension there, and so on?

  Nature repeats a pattern if it suits her, it thus controls the pattern.  Man, on the other hand, is compelled to repeat a pattern mechanically for he has not recognized the pattern as such (seeing only the part but not the Whole)--therefore he is its victim.

    Only when there is complete perception of the impasse of the conditioned mind is there true intelligence and so a breaking away from the patterns of repetitious thought; the mind has then emptied itself of its “humanity” to realize its “divinity” (in the truly non-dualistic sense).  When that happens Man becomes like a child.  Everything takes on a fresh appearance and evokes an intense interest.  Beauty comes into being which does not depend upon form, in which the ugly may become beautiful and the conventionally beautiful may seem to contain ugliness.  

Man versus Nature

   Perhaps we have now made it clear that the basic schism postulated by many people is false, namely that Intelligence is the prerogative of the human intellect and Nature is blind, mechanical; and that the true position may be exactly the reverse.  It is because of this wrongful conception, springing from a dualistic outlook, that to see human intelligence reflected in Nature’s intelligence is to some people a perpetual source of wonder.  It has been suggested, for example, that the Creator must be a great mathematician, seeing that his planning runs parallel to that of the human designer.  But these curious correlations are curious only to the observer who is isolated, that is, who looks dualistically at the world and at his own mental “equipment”.  To the person who understands non-duality and realizes it within himself, the problems which these manifestations put to a dualistic analyser, do not arise; for him true intelligence is indivisible, wherever he finds it.

   The foregoing discussion seems highly relevant to the question of habit–this being a pattern of thoughtlessness repeated within thought.  To most people there are “good” habits and “bad” habits, but to the writer every form of (psychological) habit is pernicious (having a harmful effect, especially in a gradual or subtle way), because it creates a dependency, whether it be the habit of sex, of overeating, or of “doing good”.  We see here another example of the either/or principle; either we drop or all habits at once, or none.  To compromise, to abandon some habits while retaining others, is the same as to do away with none.

   And are we given to so many habits.  There is the habit of reading, gossiping, chatting, and above all the habit of fear, of anxiety.  And those “well established” relationships, such as the relationship to my wife, my family, my boss, my servant, are they not merely variations on certain well-worn patterns of traditional attitudes, preconceived ideas, handed down by generations?  If so, they are not true, living relationships at all, but forms of dependency, roles, which the mind has cultivated–because it affords the mind, that does not wish to be disturbed, some continuity of its thoughtlessness, which it considers its security. 

The Rooting Out of Habit

   Cannot we live in such a way that we do not know what we are going to do from one moment to the next?  This does not mean living thoughtlessly, nor does it mean that we forget to carry out the regular tasks we have in hand, but that beyond this routine part–and it is only common sense that can tell us what rightfully belongs there–the course of our life uncharted; and every movement, being unpremeditated, is an adventure.  This, to my mind, is living supremely with uncertainty, with true abandonment, the real “let-go”, and not indulging in “doing what you like”, the gratification at all costs in one direction or another.

   Sorrow is the forced disruption of the pattern in which I have been finding security.  So the question really is: Is it possible to live each moment as though I have never lived in this world before, in complete uncertainty of what is going to happen to me; that is, without my existing pattern and giving rise to a new one, and so wipe away sorrow altogether?  This is only possible, is it not, if I am so entirely awake, so mindful, that each movement of thought is perceived as the thread from which the pattern is knit, so that there is an immediate unraveling of the pattern.  This means, to see that,, psychologically, every thought is based on an idea, on “knowledge” which is part of the brain's conditioning and has no absolute validity in itself.  Only then is there a possibility of a fresh beginning, an action which does not belong to any pattern of past experience.  To achieve this, nothing short of a tremendous psychological revolution is necessary.  For is it not almost everything we do based on an idea, a continuity, laid down by Society?  And if we do not erect an external authority, we set up an internal authority, that of our experience,, which then becomes the habit, the routine.  Is it not significant in this connection that we talk about “following a routine”, which implies that the routine has “got us”?

Non-psychological Habits

   To be perfectly clear, it is not argued that every form of routine is necessarily harmful.  This is a difficulty which is often introduced in discussions on habit, but, as I see it, is a complete red herring.  An orderly mind will have worked out a number of routines for its convenience in the performance of certain chores which recur periodically, like personal toilet, daily exercises, etc.  This is only common sense since it increases efficiency and saves time, thought and energy which can thus be reserved for more important tasks.  The criterion is,, of course, whether or not the pattern represents a habit that binds, upon which we depend psychologically.  It seems to me that as long as we do not depend in this way, there can be little objection to streamlining and mechanizing some of the tasks which would otherwise b e rather tedious and bothersome.  What we are doing then is really nothing but a kind of personal “automation”,  the “programming” having been carefully worked out during our “learning” and tested by time.  We cannot help noticing a parallel situation between the type of pattern which man consciously usees to his advantage, and that which Nature appears to use.  In mechanical thought and in complicated skills acquired after extended periods of learning (walking, cycling) the entire pattern has become “part of us”; that is it is now completely unconscious.  How ridiculous therefore when mindfulness, not understood, becomes the unraveling of these complicated patterns, such as fixing the attention on the various muscles and movements performed in sitting, standing, walking, breathing, etc. (as is practiced, for instance by Buddhist monks in so-called mindfulness exercises or “Satipatthana”).  Concentrating the attention on any particular component of the pattern is tantamount to interfering with the pattern.  The situation is clearly brought home by the little story about the centipede which was asked how it move so many legs at the same time, and in trying to answer was effectively paralyzed.

   It is best to leave this sort of thing severely alone.  Nature has evolved and utilized the pattern, not just for the fun of it, as it were, but because it serves a useful purpose; in fact, without it life as we know it would not be possible.  Instead of interfering with mechanisms which have been developed in the course of biological evolution over millions of years, would it not be better to give our attention to the tremendous unnecessary burden that Memory has to carry, the many obvious and subtle traditions that enslave us, kill the life in us, and have been acquired over an equally long period of time?  Forit is in this sphere that the decision lies how man is going to use his biological and intellectual potentials, whether he is to continue strengthening his prison with useless, tyrannical thought constructs, or whether he is to reach out toward that which lies beyond the prison, beyond the realm of thought.