Posts by Edward Flores4

steeleagle13 said:EVERY DEATH means a birth. One thing dies, another is born. Dying implies being born and vice versa...
You've been trying to kill yourself through 5156654654 reincarnations—you're NEVER going to succeed. 😈😉😁

A "state" where there is no one left to experience that state CANNOT be called a state... basically, death in the absolute sense can't exist (regardless of what the Americans might want it to)—there's only some other "kind" of existence, like an astral plane or whatever comes next.

From where I'm sitting, it looks like you've hung a bunch of expectations on the universe, almost like you have this deep-seated need to believe that "something, somewhere" just keeps going once you pass away. And, in a way, you're right—the world is definitely going to keep spinning without us. Honestly, with over 8 billion people on this planet, hardly anyone is even going to notice you're gone.

I also can't help but notice all the winking emojis and how you're using ALL CAPS for the core parts of your beliefs. If you don't mind me saying, that feels a bit like self-suggestion—it's like you're trying to convince yourself because there's a flicker of doubt underneath. See, once a tiny seed of doubt enters a belief, the certainty is already gone. You already know there isn't an afterlife; you just haven't quite come to terms with it yet.

Maybe I'm totally off base here... and if I am, just toss everything I just said into the trash.

A "state" where there is no one left to experience that state CANNOT be called a state... in other words, death in the full sense of the word cannot exist (no matter how much Tibetans might want it to). There is only some other "kind" of existence, like the astral plane or whatever comes next.

Look, it's pretty simple: just as someone who doesn't exist can't experience death, someone who doesn't exist can't experience an "afterward," either. There's no "astral plane" or "whatever follows" for them. When you aren't there, there is NOTHING following!

Once you're gone, that's it—there won't be any more "you" to experience anything ever again.😉

placidharbor7 said:Well, I'd argue that absurdity is just like a "rotten tooth"—you've got to pull it out! Once that's gone, you aren't left with some vague "love for death," but rather Death itself: pure, raw, and unadulterated. An enlightened being—someone who has truly transcended the ego—would essentially exist within the Bardo described in Tibetan texts. In that heavy, swirling mist, they don't cry out for some sort of "liberation"; instead, they ache for finality. The absolute end of both body and mind, leaving nothing behind, not even a memory—that is the only true "nirvana."
There’s actually a hidden riddle in the Nazarene's teaching that "the kingdom of heaven belongs to the poor in spirit." Honestly, isn't it true that religions preaching "ecstasy," "liberation," or "eternity" are just fundamentally childish?

Honestly, I’m sitting here in a bit of a state of shock, but I have to admit—it looks like we finally landed on the same page regarding something.

Any teachings or religions that push the idea of "ecstasy," "liberation," or "eternity" are just plain childish.

Exactly.

When you strip everything away, death is the only actual liberation. Compared to the raw vitality found in dying, the energy involved in being born feels almost trivial. Think of it this way—dying is like that very last stroke of a brush on a canvas. It’s the completion, the wholeness, the final realization of the work.

mistybison said:Regarding the Tibetan Book of the Dead, Jung isn't actually discussing a divide between Eastern and Western minds, but rather different methods of exploring the psyche. The mind is fundamentally the same for everyone—it is layered. People in the East simply don't place as much emphasis on the things Americans focus on, such as the subconscious or the collective unconscious, because they view all of that as Maya, just as much as our material existence and individual ego. Jung is merely pointing out that, according to the Tibetan Book of the Dead, the process works in reverse at the moment of death: the mind encounters "pure consciousness" or "non-consciousness." If one fails to let go at that moment, they begin to sink back into Maya—first confronting the deepest layers of the human psyche before slowly ascending toward rebirth, physical existence, and individual consciousness. The Tibetan Book of the Dead essentially provides a highly detailed map of the human psyche, moving from the deepest depths to the surface. 🙂

However, it is important to remember that this book explains what happens spontaneously after death. I believe Jung is simply emphasizing that attempting to consciously trigger this reverse process can be extremely dangerous. In an attempt to dive into the deeper layers of the mind hoping to reach the "source," a person might become trapped in mental states they cannot handle, potentially leading to psychosis or schizophrenia. Eastern traditions don't dig through the contents of the mind in that manner; instead, they discard the mind as Maya and focus immediately on the highest state—pure spirit, pure consciousness, emptiness, or non-existence. This is precisely what the Tibetan Book of the Dead advises throughout: turning attention toward non-existence, practicing meditation, or praying to a supreme Deity—regardless of whatever sensations, sights, or sounds are being experienced in that moment.

And so we arrive back at what I mentioned in my opening post: either existence with all its infinite contents, or the total annihilation of everything. Why should the latter be considered the ultimate spiritual goal?

I wasn't actually talking about his specific commentary on the Tibetan Book of the Dead—that’s not what I meant—but rather more about his overall perspective on Eastern philosophies, mythologies, and those old folk tales we grew up with.

It’s pretty much the same story for everyone—it’s layered, deeply complex, and constant. You know, Eastern perspectives don't really place the same kind of weight on the things we Americans tend to obsess over—stuff like the subconscious, the collective unconscious, and all that deep psychological territory. To them, all of that is just Maya, just as much as our physical existence or our individual ego-consciousness.

Maya carries so much weight, but if you really strip it all back, what it means first and foremost is... Measurement—it’s funny how we think we have everything figured out just because we can put a number to it. We go through life obsessed with scales, rulers, and spreadsheets, convinced that if we can just quantify something, we’ve actually mastered it. But honestly? Most of the time, we're just measuring the shadow of the thing rather than the thing itself. Think about it like trying to gauge the quality of a meal at a local diner. You can look at the calorie count, check the price, or even weigh the steak—but none of those numbers will ever tell you if the food actually hits the soul, right? Or take something more abstract, like progress in a career or the depth of a friendship. You can track hours worked or texts sent, but those metrics feel so hollow when you're actually living it. I’ve been thinking lately about how much energy we waste trying to turn the intangible into data. We want certainty, so we reach for a ruler. But some of the most important parts of being human—intuition, connection, purpose—they don't fit on a standard scale. They require a different kind of calibration altogether. It's less about the math and more about the feeling.... or rather, when you try to "measure" him. When we dive into Eastern philosophy—the kind that suggests everything around us is just Maya—what we’re really talking about is how our minds are wired to slice up reality. We take this one massive, continuous flow of existence and start carving it into little, separate pieces—like a tree, a person, a stream, or even a shoe.

Let’s look at this through a simple lens—something we all deal with every single day. We can all easily tell someone our age, even though, if you really stop to think about it, that number is just an entirely arbitrary way of measuring a human being. I mean, when does life actually *start*? It's not like there's one universal clock ticking away from a single moment. There are at least a few different ways you could legitimately argue for where the count begins:
I’ve always felt that life doesn't just sort of "kick in" later on—it actually begins at the very moment of conception. It’s that initial spark, that singular point where everything starts, which I think is such a profound way to look at our existence.
I’ve always felt that life truly kicks off at that singular, defining moment—when an egg cell is finally fertilized. It's that tiny, precise instant where everything changes.
Life doesn't truly kick off until that embryo starts developing its own circulatory system—that's when things really get moving.
Life doesn't truly kick off until that embryo starts developing its own central nervous system—that's when everything changes.
Life doesn't truly kick off until a mother brings a child into this world—it’s that profound moment where everything shifts. It’s like when you finally flip the switch on a massive, complex machine and suddenly there’s actual power running through the system; before that, it was just potential, waiting to be realized. Everything changes once that connection is made.
Maybe it all actually traces back to that split second when Dad first laid eyes on Mom—or maybe it was her seeing him first (honestly, I'm just trying to be funny here, but there might be some truth to it).

It’s funny how we all just collectively decided that birth is the official starting line for "measuring" a life—even though there are plenty of other ways you could look at it. Honestly, death works the same way; we can define it through so many different lenses. Is it when breathing stops? When circulation ceases? Or maybe when someone stops responding to external stimuli or when brain activity flatlines? Because of all these variables, Eastern philosophies tend to view this whole concept of measurement as an "illusion." Now, I don't mean they're saying the physical reality we're observing isn't real—it definitely is. It’s more that the act of slicing our existence into these arbitrary little segments is what's illusory. We create these specific markers just so we have a way to wrap our heads around things and actually communicate them to one another. But at the end of the day... well, we're just dealing with words. think i I'm not quite sure what you're getting at here—it feels like we're starting from a blank slate. If there was a specific thought or a bit of a story you were trying to share, go ahead and lay it out for me. I’m all ears, and I’d love to dive into whatever it is you're thinking about once we get some more context on the table. It’s honestly no coincidence that you see those similarities popping up across so many different languages—it’s almost like there's an underlying pattern we're all tapping into.

So, here’s the thing— The way Maya views things doesn't actually push aside physical reality, consciousness, or the subconscious—it’s not about denying any of that. It’s more like... instead of saying those things don't exist, she's looking at how they all fit together in this much larger, interconnected framework. It isn't a rejection of what we can touch or feel, nor is it a dismissal of our inner minds; it's just a different way of organizing how everything hangs together....or whatever else comes to mind. It’s funny how we tend to break down massive, life-altering events into these little, seemingly disconnected pieces—almost like we're trying to make sense of a whirlwind by looking at individual raindrops instead of the whole storm. We compartmentalize everything, slicing up these huge experiences into manageable chunks just so we don't feel overwhelmed by the sheer scale of it all.It’s funny how we fall into this trap where we think we’re seeing cause and effect—this illusion of causality—which just feeds into that whole widespread prejudice that "what happened yesterday dictates what happens tomorrow." But if you really sit with it, the truth is much simpler: there isn't a chain of separate events at all. There is only one single event, and honestly? It hasn't even finished happening yet. It's always just that one, continuous moment.

It seems like most people following Eastern philosophies don't actually grasp the core tenets of what they’re studying. Instead, they get totally boggeduk by the metaphors and fall into this trap of believing that physical reality is just some grand illusion they need to "escape" from... which, honestly, doesn't tell me much other than the fact that most people—whether they’re in the West or the East—would rather die than actually sit down and think critically. Think about it: Americans tend to obsess over heaven, hell, and resurrection, while those following Eastern traditions fixate on Maya, reincarnation, and liberation. At the end of the day, it’s the exact same meal, just served in a different kind of packaging.

Jung really drives home this idea—based on what you find in the Tibetan Book of the Dead—that everything flips on its head at the moment of death. It’s like the whole process just reverses direction. Instead of the usual way we experience things, the mind hits this sudden encounter with "pure consciousness" or even a kind of "non-consciousness." If you don't manage to let go right then and there, you start that slow, heavy slide back down into the Maya.

I honestly can't wrap my head around how anyone gets the nerve to write about what people experience at the exact moment they pass away—all while signing their name like they’re some kind of living authority on the subject. It just feels fundamentally off, you know? 🤷

Phrases like "slowly sinking back into Maya" just don't make any sense to me—honestly, they’re a bit nonsensical. I mean, the only way you actually "exit" Maya is if you pass away or if you somehow manage to completely wipe your memory of language itself. Sure, we all face a little metaphorical death every single day, but let's be real: nobody has ever truly managed to forget their native tongue without essentially lobotomizing a significant chunk of their own brain.

Beyond that, I’m struggling to wrap my head around how this whole idea of "knowledge regarding the experiences of the dead" actually managed to weave its way into the sacred scriptures in the first place.
So, that person who actually went clinically dead... you know, the one who came back from the brink... they haven't really "died" in the permanent sense, have they? It’s like they’re still hanging in that middle ground—somewhere between here and gone.

It’s pretty much common knowledge at this point that the brain starts pumping out tryptamines when it senses an imminent shutdown. If you take a look at the accounts from people who have undergone DMT trips and compare them to those who have had near-death experiences—it’s wild how similar they are. Honestly, they’re almost identical to what people describe during high-dose LSD sessions, too. It's like the brain has its own built-in fallback mechanism for when things get critical.

To frame this as some kind of "near-death experience" is just being incredibly naive—honestly, it’s almost reckless. Relying on something like the Tibetan Book of the Dead to justify it feels like a textbook move from organized religion; they love using those kinds of "manuals" to spark hope for an afterlife, mostly because it keeps people compliant and raises their tolerance for whatever mess they're dealing with here on Earth. Think about it—if people stopped hoping for "something else" waiting for them on the other side, a huge chunk of the population might actually decide that the life they're living right now isn't worth putting up with. If that happened, religious institutions and even the government would find themselves in a much tighter spot than they are today.

If you really dive into the Tibetan Book of the Dead, you start to realize it isn't just some mystical guide—it’s actually an incredibly thorough breakdown of the human psyche. It maps everything out, moving from those deepest, most primal layers of our subconscious all the way up to the surface stuff we deal with every day. 🙂

Could you maybe expand on that just a little bit? I’d love it if you could walk me through the different layers—even just a high-level overview—and touch on what makes each one unique.

I can't believe I actually found this—it’s like stumbling upon a lost piece of history right in the middle of a busy afternoon. It really makes you stop and think about how much we miss when we're just rushing through life, isn't it? It reminds me a bit of that old feeling you get when you finally pick up a copy of the Tibetan Book of the Dead after hearing people talk about it for years—that sense that there's something deeper waiting to be uncovered if you just slow down enough to look. Anyway, I was thinking about what Edward Flores4 mentioned earlier—you know, how easily we get caught up in the noise—and it clicked. It's almost like trying to listen to a subtle melody while standing next to a jet engine at LAX. You have to find that internal quiet first. It's not always easy, especially when everything feels so loud and fast-paced, but it's worth the effort. Just a little thought I had while sitting here with my coffee.

But you really have to keep in mind that this book—it’s basically laying out exactly what happens... It just happened—totally out of the blue. It’s all about what happens after we cross that line—that transition from life to whatever comes next.

I’m having a hard time following the logic here. I mean, what kind of mental gymnastics does it take to actually believe that someone could pass away, successfully migrate to some sort of "next level," and then somehow manage to beam back detailed instructions from that other dimension?

Even if we decide to give them the benefit of the doubt—just for a second—and let's say, for the sake of argument, that this actually *is* possible... we’re still staring down the barrel of a massive, insurmountable problem:

What exactly is that thing people talk about—that transition where you supposedly survive death only to ascend to the next "level," versus the idea that you just slowly sink back down into Maya?

I’ve been thinking about this lately—the idea that consciousness is really just a reflection of the world around us, filtered through the lens of our own bodies. Think about it: the actual substance of what we experience is almost entirely composed of information about our environment, rather than anything internal to the organism itself. It’s all external data being processed. So, when the body finally gives out, that reflection of the outside world simply stops. Everything contained within that stream of consciousness effectively "survives" in a sense, but there isn't a single thing in that entire collection of data that you could truly call *yours*.

So, even if there actually were some kind of direct hotline between the living and the dead... I just don't see what could possibly make it through that transition. I mean, what part of us survives death in a way that we could actually recognize as an individual—as a specific identity, a distinct entity, or any kind of autonomous self? It’s hard to wrap my head around how anything stays intact once the lights go out.

I honestly think Jung was just trying to drive home the point that attempting a conscious "reverse process" can be incredibly risky. There’s this idea that if you dive straight into those deepest, darkest layers of your own psyche—hoping you'll somehow strike gold and find the ultimate "source"—you might actually lose your footing. It’s like trying to scuba dive into an abyss without enough oxygen; you might get caught in some intense mental states that you simply aren't equipped to handle, potentially leading someone straight toward psychosis or schizophrenia. It's a heavy warning about the dangers of going too deep, too fast.

Not only can it be dangerous, but honestly, it’s just completely pointless. When we all eventually pass away... there really isn't much sense in trying to suppress "Maya" in an attempt to mimic the state of consciousness that precedes physical death. There isn't anything spiritual, enlightened, or even meaningful about that approach.

If you look at it as a one-time experience—provided it's interpreted correctly—it can "reward" you by relieving that deep-seated fear of your own mortality. In doing so, it settles most of those nagging issues caused by the mind's internal narrative drama—you know, how the brain arbitrarily "measures" everything happening, chops it into little fragments, and then starts stressing out over non-existent connections between those random pieces of a supposed "whole." You could call it satori if you want, though satori isn't just the experience itself; it’s the experience *correctly understood*. And let's be real, interpretation isn't entirely dependent on the experience, though it's incredibly rare to find someone open-minded enough to grasp it through pure reason—so usually, the experience itself becomes the deciding factor.

For people who have had such an experience but totally misread what happened, Buddhists actually have a specific term for them—something like "mula" (and I don't mean a horse or a donkey).

Quincy:

Eastern traditions don't dig through the mind and its contents like that; instead, they cast the mind aside as Maya and focus immediately on the highest thing—pure spirit, pure consciousness, emptiness, nothingness, and so on. Which, ultimately, is exactly what the Tibetan Book of the Dead advises: turning your attention toward non-existence, meditation, or prayer to some higher Deity—regardless of what is happening in the moment, what you see, hear, or feel.

That practice is utterly senseless, and it runs perfectly parallel to Christian thought. Christians often preach the "insignificance of this life," frequently calling it a "temptation" or a "test" where passing successfully ensures "eternal life in the heavenly kingdom."

It’s basically throwing away the life you actually have for the sake of a potential payoff in the afterlife. Is there anything more futile than that?

This way of interpreting Eastern philosophies is actually just an Eastern version of popular religion; aside from the mythology, metaphors, and various flourishes, it doesn't really differ from Christianity.

Quincy:

And then we arrive at what I mentioned in my opening post: either existence with all its infinite contents, or the total annihilation of everything. Why would the latter be considered the ultimate spiritual goal?

There are several answers to that, and a few come to mind right now. 🙂

1) Because people love gravitating toward whatever looks cool. And let's face it—"cool" is mostly just a label for things we don't understand. Things we *do* understand feel pre-packaged, obvious, simple, ordinary, outdated, unattractive, and frankly, boring.

2) Because a monkey does what a monkey sees, and humans aren't all that different from monkeys. When people lack a better idea, they tend to just mimic what others are doing without ever stopping to ask why.

3) Because so many people are disillusioned with themselves and how lost they feel in the world, so they find solace in this exotic, alluring cocktail of nihilism, esotericism, mysticism, and religion... they slap the label "spiritual achievement" on it, and suddenly they’ve finally accomplished something, giving their lives "some kind of" meaning.

ps: Even though I "attacked" some of your points, I only did so to shine a light on some of the "sketchy" details within that concept. Looking at the discussion as a whole, I can tell you're already aware of most of these issues. So, please don't take this as an attempt to argue, insult you, or be verbally aggressive.🙂

mistybison said:Carl Gustav Jung would likely disagree with you. He believed that honoring the deceased—through memorials and similar rites—is vital for our psychological well-being. He also studied the Tibetan Book of the Dead and noted that it discusses various levels of consciousness and their corresponding metaphysical realities. To him, "liberation" is actually a fundamental shift in how one perceives reality. A massive change in perspective is required before we can view the world as something inherent to the nature of the soul. It is much easier and more convincing for us to view events as happening "to me," rather than observing how "I" am the one causing them to happen. According to Jung, it is precisely our "animal nature" that resists seeing ourselves as the creators of our own circumstances. This is why the Tibetan Book of the Dead serves as a guide for the living just as much as for the dead; it points toward a potential spiritual pivot that restores the divinity the soul lost upon birth. He also noted that through psychoanalytic methods, Western thought has managed to take a small step beyond our known consciousness, but only into that first, most superficial layer where the soul is still gripped and driven by instinct.

In essence, what Americans consider a deep dive, Easterners consider a move toward the surface. The paths of the Westerner and the Easterner run in opposite directions: while Easterners move directly from the purest spirit downward toward physical existence, Americans start from physical existence and make only a tiny leap into what we call the subconscious—which, for an Easterner, is already a world of deep illusion governed by karma, where the spirit is obscured. The next step for an American would be confronting the archetypes and the collective unconscious located behind the subconscious, whereas for an Easterner, this stage already represents a departure from pure spirit and a descent toward the material. However, Jung warns that driving the psyche into such states using Western methods is extremely dangerous and can lead a person into psychosis or schizophrenia.

Regarding the Tibetan Book of the Dead, Jung suggests it is composed of archetypal content from the unconscious, and the book itself claims that everything a deceased person experiences is simply an encounter with various facets of their own psyche. The core idea here is that death marks the purest, highest, and most spiritual moment. Every subsequent moment is merely a deeper descent into illusion until rebirth occurs.

Or perhaps... 🙂

If this uncreated, unborn, infinite, and free void is the only true reality, there must be a reason why its surface produced this illusion of "me" and "the world." Whether it's a cosmic game or just the nature of reality, it creates diverse forms out of mist and foam, only to dissolve them with a single breath. Why wouldn't this very form be our greatest treasure and the essence of all existence? There is little sense in devaluing it or wishing to destroy it just to merge back into the void.

Why isn't existence celebrated for simply manifesting in some form, rather than being viewed as mere "suffering" or a "punishment" where the ultimate goal for every conscious being is to dissolve back into nothingness?

That is precisely how I see things. 🙂

I have to start by saying that, in my view, Carl Gustav Jung’s contribution to how we understand different cultures—specifically through his work on archetypal collective and personal unconsciousness—is easily one of the most massive achievements in the entire field of psychology and comparative mythology. It’s foundational stuff. And while he’s the heavyweight here, you really can't talk about this without bringing Joseph Campbell into the conversation. Campbell took everything Jung started and pushed comparative mythology into a whole new realm, even stepping in to refine or correct some of Jung’s ideas in ways that were honestly pretty vital for the field to move forward.

Now that we’ve finally cleared the air on that, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that when it comes to the supposed divide between the Easterner and the Westerner mindsets—I absolutely cannot get behind what Carl Gustav Jung was saying.

It’s funny how history repeats itself—even in the minds of geniuses. Take Carl Gustav Jung, for instance. Much like a lot of people do today, he ran headfirst into Hindu philosophy and that whole Eastern style of archetypal mythology, and he fell into a bit of a naive trap. He essentially assumed that Easterners were inherently more advanced than Westerners—that, as a collective, they were sitting at a higher "developmental level" psychologically speaking. He spent a good deal of time experimenting with their meditative techniques, too, but he ended up walking away with this somewhat skewed conclusion: that these practices were actually dangerous for Westerners. In his view, they just led to pure frustration because we seemingly lacked that specific "developmental level" that Easterners supposedly possessed. It was a classic case of looking through a lens that didn't quite account for the full picture.

In those circumstances, his perspective was only right to the extent that it would have been incredibly arrogant of him to assume his own struggle to master those techniques meant the methods themselves were flawed. He wasn't trying to undermine their credibility—mostly because the underlying cosmology actually makes a lot of sense—but rather, Carl Gustav Jung suggested that Americans just aren't quite "ready" for them yet. It’s like trying to run a marathon before you've even learned to walk; if we ignore that gap in readiness, we’re just setting ourselves up for failure. If you jump into it too soon, all you end up with is a massive amount of frustration from the sheer inability to control your mind the way those practices claim you should.

I think what Carl Gustav Jung missed back then was this fundamental point—these methods aren't actually "techniques" in the way we usually think of them. They aren't just tools you pick up and use to get a specific result. Instead, they’re more like a continuous dialogue. It reminds me of that line from William Blake: "The fool who persists in his folly will become wise." That’s really where the magic happens. These practices exist to force a confrontation with the reality that you simply cannot control your own mind. Once you hit that wall and realize how futile that struggle is, you start to see things differently. You begin to understand that "fate" isn't some external force crashing into your life from out of nowhere—it’s actually something we build for ourselves, brick by brick, through our own actions and patterns.

In other words, coming from that typical academic background we see in the West, Carl Gustav Jung wasn't exactly expecting to run into a completely different philosophy of "learning" once he encountered the traditions of the East. Where those Eastern perspectives really had the upper hand—and this is a subtle but massive distinction—was in their understanding that you can memorize every single doctrine and dogma in the book, yet still walk away with your old, biased way of seeing the world completely intact. It’s a bit like memorizing a cookbook without ever actually tasting the food; you have all the data, but zero actual nourishment. Because of that, he missed the chance to really question whether the techniques being offered were even valid, mostly because he was operating under the assumption that, just like back home in the States, education is always supposed to provide concrete, tangible answers. But the teachings from the East operate on a different wavelength entirely—they’re based, as William Blake would put it, "on the straight guidance of a fool."

If someone truly believes the world is flat, just send them out for a walk toward the edge—and make sure they stay in a perfectly straight line. Once they eventually loop right back to where they started, they’ll have to admit, at the very least, that the earth has a cylindrical shape. 🙂

Look, Carl Gustav Jung reached some incredible conclusions; he kicked open so many doors and handed us a toolkit that is still indispensable today. But even he tripped up occasionally—and honestly, we can't hold that against him. If he had claimed to be infallible, well, that would have just been pure arrogance on his part.

Quincy:

If this uncreated, unborn, infinite, and free void is indeed the only true reality, there's probably a reason why its surface gave rise to this illusion of "me" and "the world." Whether it’s a cosmic game or just the inherent nature of that reality—creating diverse forms out of mist and foam only to dissolve them with a single breath—why wouldn't that very form be the greatest treasure of all? Why devalue it, or feel this urge to destroy it and melt it back into the nothingness? Why isn't existence celebrated simply because it manifests in some form? Instead, we tend to view it as mere "suffering" or a "punishment," acting as if the ultimate goal for every conscious being is to unravel back into non-existence.

Now, I can only speak for myself here. For me, life is something to celebrate. I try to soak up as much of it as possible, fully aware that it's fleeting and, from my perspective, ultimately quite nonsensical. Life is basically a "function" or a "characteristic" of the universe—a way for the cosmos to create the variety and complexity it clearly craves. In that sense, life is a disruption of equilibrium; while it lasts, it drives the dynamics of conflict, violence, fragmentation, and isolation. Life IS a problem, with a capital "P."

But because I understand what that "function" actually is, I manage to embrace whatever comes my way with equal enthusiasm... whether it's pain or pleasure. That enthusiasm comes from the simple fact that, sooner or later, I'll return to a state of "equality," and my specific little bubble of consciousness—with all its built-up frustrations, memories, hopes, and philosophies—will finally be released from that pressure.

In a way... this IS a dream that will one day end, and all of this is just a temporary illusion—but while the dream is happening, it is my one and only reality.

Anyway... trying to read ancient texts without a deep understanding of the specific culture and cosmology of the era they were written in usually leads to some pretty massive misinterpretations.

Besides, you shouldn't take even verified, world-class authorities like Carl Gustav Jung for granted. Everyone misses the mark somewhere. Whenever I read a book and can't find at least one point where I disagree with the author, I KNOW I haven't actually grasped what they were really trying to say.

It's the same with me—if you can't find at least one thing to disagree with me on, it means you didn't really understand me. Because I definitely get things wrong sometimes, and I'd actually prefer if people pointed those flaws out. 🙂

mistybison said:The absurdity lies in the fact that the pain only ceases when the person experiencing it vanishes into a void—a nothingness where neither the person nor the tooth exists. If we follow the Tibetan Book of the Dead, there is only "annihilation," rather than a realization of illusion that leads to happiness. This is because even happiness (much like suffering) is just another layer of deception. This implies that the experiential realization that everything is an illusion leads automatically to total annihilation, rather than a joyful life free from toothaches. 😁 Ultimately, we are left with only two options: 1) a person in pain, or 2) neither the person nor the tooth.

Isn't this view of spirituality based on the belief that existence is inherently suffering and that self-annihilation is preferable to working through that suffering? Doesn't that essentially harbor a love for death?

Then you become a magician, and suddenly you "are or aren't"? 😁

Some really bright thinkers have suggested that there’s basically only one major philosophical question left to ask:
Whether or not to commit suicide?

And honestly, that’s where the whole irony of spirituality lies... people tend to look at it as a path toward a "good and happy life," chasing those states of consciousness you see laid out in myths and sacred texts. But if you look closer, spirituality actually suggests that life itself is the singular problem we have to solve—and death is, quite frankly, the ultimate solution to the problem of living, which is described in a pretty prosaic way throughout various scriptures and legends.

Is that a "love" for death...? I don't know... personally, I don't think so. But there is a certain level of comfort to be found when I sit and think about it. I'm starting to realize that the point of life isn't necessarily waiting for it to slowly fade away from you, but rather dying for a great idea at exactly the right moment... Maybe a Buddhist would call that meditating on "impermanence"... I usually just call it thinking, but I definitely find some solace in the fact that at least death is a certainty. 🙂

I think you’ve hit the nail on the head there... the whole thing feels incredibly thin—if not completely nonsensical.

In my own two cents, those books seem to have been written as descriptions of psychedelic trips, which some folks then mistakenly assumed were the same thing as a near-death experience. I mean, look at how Richard Alpert and Tim Leary put together their own brief revision of the Tibetan Book of the Dead; they pretty much landed on the exact same conclusion.

The other possibility is that these texts originally functioned as guides through psychedelic states, but over time, through some distorted traditions, they morphed into something else entirely. Now, people literally "read them to the deceased," which—if you ask me—doesn't make any sense from a neurological standpoint.

wiredbear2 said:Do you really believe that inner peace and having fun are mutually exclusive?

Shaman, I'm talking about a "deep" kind of tranquility, the sort that isn't tethered to whatever is happening in the world around you.
And... I don't see life and death as two separate things. They are equally vital parts of the same whole 😉

I forgot to mention, of course, that this applies perfectly to workplace stress as well. 🙂
People have this tendency to multiply their own unnecessary misery just because they can.

Peace—even just the quiet moments at night—is really the bedrock of everything we do. It’s not just some separate thing you find between tasks; it’s actually woven right into the fabric of every action we take and every bit of fun we have. Without that stillness to ground us, nothing else really holds up.

Quentin:

Edward Flores4, I’m telling you—I’m talking about that "deep" kind of peace. And I don't mean the kind that depends on everything around you being perfect or quiet. It’s got nothing to do with what's happening on the outside. I don't really see a way to separate life from death—to me, they’re just two sides of the same coin. You can't really have one without the other, right? They both carry the same kind of weight. 😉

I honestly don't quite get this whole obsession with finding "deep" inner peace... I’ve always been a bit more of an extrovert, to be honest—I definitely need that social energy to feel like myself. 😁

I think I get where you're coming from—I really do—but I can guarantee you right now that this peace you’re talking about is actually present everywhere, all the time. It doesn't depend on you; rather, it's about how you relate to it. Saying you "have" peace or don't is a bit of a flawed way to put it... it’s not like something you can just possess, and honestly, why even "strive" for it? What's the point of chasing something you can't exactly run away from in the first place? At the end of the day, we're all already there. 😉

That sense of "peace" isn't something you fight for—it’s just something you have to accept. Honestly, the people who spend all their energy struggling against it are usually just running away from that very stillness. Now, I’m definitely not saying that’s what you're doing here, but in my experience, that’s where the disconnect usually happens.

Quentin:

It feels like people have this weird, almost instinctive drive to take their own frustrations and just... multiply them—spreading that negativity around far more than anyone actually needs. It’s like they take a tiny spark of discontent and work overtime to turn it into a full-blown bonfire, dragging everyone else into the heat for no real reason.

It’s funny how we work—people tend to wrap their entire identity around their struggles. Instead of seeing their problems as just temporary hurdles, they start viewing them as the very thing that defines them. It becomes their whole personality—the one thing that makes them feel "different" or special compared to everyone else.

Here’s the thing—we all carry around these lofty ideas of who we want to be, but if I’m being honest, most of the time we don't even believe in them ourselves. We struggle to find that conviction. But our problems? Man, we believe in those with everything we've got. We cling to them. These issues become these massive, heavy pillars in our lives—things that feel like they define our entire existence. It’s almost like we use this messy, composite picture of our struggles as the primary building blocks for our identity. When it comes to our problems, there isn't a shred of doubt; they feel more real than our actual potential.

In other words—if you really think about it—what most people label as their "ego" is actually just a conscious narrative they've built around their own specific set of life struggles and baggage. Because of that, the whole concept of "getting rid of your ego" is actually a pretty dangerous idea—especially when people don't truly grasp what they’re actually dealing with in the first place. You see it all the time: someone decides they've reached this level of enlightenment, and suddenly they're turning around and lecturing everyone else, pointing fingers and telling people, "Oh, you're just acting out because your ego is running the show," or suggesting that everyone else needs to "do the work" to fix themselves. It’s almost funny, in a dark sort of way—they genuinely believe they’ve mastered the complexity of the situation, convinced that they are deeply aware of the "ego problem" and are working harder than anyone else to overcome it.

It’s kind of a bummer, really—time doesn't actually fix things; it just turns up the volume on all those underlying issues and ends up giving people an even bigger ego to work with.

Nah, that’s exactly where you'll find the answer to the question:
Why is it that people seem to go out of their way to make life as difficult as possible for themselves? It’s one of those things you catch yourself wondering about when you’re watching someone trip over their own feet—metaphorically speaking, of course—and you just have to shake your head. I mean, think about it. We all want stability, right? We want things to run smoothly, like a well-oiled machine or a perfectly timed flight from JFK to LAX. But instead, we see people constantly building their own obstacles. It’s almost like they’re subconsciously seeking out the friction. Maybe it’s a bit of self-sabotage rooted in deep-seated habits, or perhaps it’s that weird human tendency to mistake chaos for "living life to the fullest." Some people feel more comfortable in the middle of a storm than they do in the calm, because the calm feels... I don't know, boring? Or maybe even unsafe? It’s like if everything is going too well, they’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop, so they might as well drop it themselves to get the anxiety over with. It’s a strange loop to be stuck in—creating the very stress you're trying to escape.

It’s because it gives them this false, yet incredibly potent, sense of individuality. It isn't just that—it's that they can deflect any bit of criticism by pointing to their own specific struggles, using those personal hurdles to justify everything they do while simultaneously framing themselves as being uniquely special and one-of-a-kind.

It feels like I’m the only one dealing with this specific headache—honestly, it seems like nobody else has to deal with the exact kind of mess I'm stuck with right now. 😍 Must be nice for you—you don't have half the headaches I'm dealing with right now. 😬Honestly, you don't even realize how much your ego is running the show... whereas I’m actually putting in the work to fix mine 🤣

Anyway... most people actually cling to their problems—they don't really want to solve them. It’s because, deep down in the subconscious, there's this feeling that those struggles are the only things making them truly unique. Plus, without our little neuroses, we wouldn't really have anything to differentiate ourselves from one another. So, yeah... that's just how it goes.

Ryan Wood98 said:Whether you happen to be a Dummy or not, I don't think that necessarily has anything to do with whether you are being tolerant.

If you won't let a colleague listen to NPR, then maybe you aren't being tolerant. At least not in that specific moment. You might have been perfectly tolerant for the past year, but in that particular instance, perhaps you weren't.

As for whether you've stopped being a Dummy, or if you never were one to begin with—well, I guess that's a completely different matter.

Fine. Then I guess I’m just not tolerant. 😁
Call it whatever you want... I believe in reciprocal tolerance. In my view, people who take advantage of someone else's patience should be checked every single time they try it. Also... those folks who are *always* willing to put up with everything? They should just be left to live alongside the ones who don't respect boundaries—since they're clearly "made for each other"—so that everyone else can enjoy some peace and quiet.

No one is obligated to tolerate stupidity or bad manners, and everyone should have to deal with the fallout of their own actions. If someone is acting like a total Dummy, you have to call them out on it—otherwise, you're just being a hypocrite. When a Dummy doesn't realize they're exploiting someone's kindness, you have to make it clear. And if they don't get it through words, then you show them through your actions. Once you stop playing along, even the densest person might finally see the light. 🙂

As for me... feel free to be endlessly tolerant of everything. It's your life. 😉

wiredbear2 said:Uh… 🙂 Honestly, you haven't. I don't think you're writing nonsense at all. While I find myself agreeing with the vast majority of your posts, I always love finding those specific points where we might hold differing perspectives. Thank you for such an exhaustive opening to your post; I truly have nothing to add to it 😉

Meditation is just one tool in the kit for managing stress. However, in those moments when I’m feeling overwhelmed, I tend to prefer—well, doing nothing at all. I just let the stress wash over me and pass on its own. Stress is chaotic and loud... whereas meditation is gentle... quiet. If I feel like meditation might actually help, I’ll give it a shot. In most cases, it does help, at least as a kind of first aid. But that isn't my "true" meditation; it’s more of a functional, targeted approach that I only turn to during actual crises. It’s much like how I never take tranquilizers; this serves as my substitute

That is precisely why I talk about various different types of meditation. That is why I can't give you a single, definitive definition of what meditation is. And that is why I gave you the same warning

Ultimately, a meditative state should be a person's natural baseline, just as excitement is a natural state
You mention that it's a shame not to meditate at work. For me, in most instances, I actually manage to do it—especially after gaining a few years of experience under my belt, once you learn how to carry yourself in a professional environment and stop reacting so intensely to every little thing. But that is a skill that must be learned, or at least, it was something I personally had to struggle to master
Shaman, for me, there are no magic formulas... It would be wonderful if there were a technique you knew would provide instant relief every single time. But there isn't. There is no universal recipe. What works for me today might be completely useless tomorrow

The only thing I truly strive for is to remain at peace, no matter what happens. And I am genuinely grateful whenever I manage to sustain that for a few days in a row

See, meditation is really about perception. That kind of meditative awareness doesn't actually create stress. It isn't some wild Science Fiction concept like people tend to think it is. Let me lay it out for you:

- You know you have to head into the office because, let's face it, you need the paycheck to survive.
- Since you already have to be there for eight hours... it's just plain illogical to spend that time being miserable.
- Nobody likes working with high-strung people... and stressed-out employees are usually the first ones getting let go.
- You get paid to perform, but stress kills your productivity—and low productivity leads to being fired.
- If you truly can't stand the thought of working... then quit and stay home.
- But if you decide to show up and work—then do it. Do it without the unnecessary stress, knowing full well that this was your choice, and realizing there's zero point in stressing over something you opted into yourself.

I know you'll probably tell me you already get all this—and I believe you do—but the reality is that about 80% of people live in a constant state of frustration and irritation. They're annoyed by the boss, their coworkers, the job itself, the low pay, the fact that a colleague just bought a brand new Tesla, or how the secretary gets all those perks despite barely doing a lick of work...

It seems like people actually go out of their way to invent problems just to trigger stress, mostly because they've become addicted to it. Now, it's perfectly natural to feel stressed when something catches you off guard—something totally unexpected. But building up tension at a job where you know exactly what to expect? That takes a real, conscious effort.

A lot of people even use stress as a fuel source... they procrastinate until the final five minutes before a deadline. Then the "panic" sets in, they scramble to finish everything at the last second, and they usually walk away bragging about how they pulled it off under pressure. They rarely stop to think about the massive toll that constant adrenaline-chasing takes on them.

In other words... meditation is simply knowing exactly WHAT you are doing and WHY you are doing it. When you have that clarity, you lose all the wasted effort, the pointless complaining, the frustrations, the disappointments, and the stress.

Simple as that.... at least when we're talking about work.

Quentin:

The only thing I'm really aiming for is to stay peaceful, no matter what. And I feel so grateful whenever I actually manage to pull that off for a few days in a row.

Well, you'll be perfectly peaceful once you're dead... until then, try to at least have a little fun.😉

Ryan Wood98 said:Hmm. I don't think I agree with that. In my view, we can only truly be tolerant toward things that bother us, offend us, or feel unacceptable.

Because, if we are already fine with something, then we aren't actually being tolerant... we just accept it as it is. So, I guess you only really exercise tolerance when someone or something doesn't deserve it. 😉

Look, I'm sorry, but that isn't what tolerance actually means. That's just being a total Dummy.

Tolerance is basically when we share an office and you’re constantly blasting NPR. Honestly, that kind of stuff just gets under my skin—it really does—but for the most part, I’m cool with it. I’ll let it slide. But... there’s going to come a day when I just can't deal with it anymore, and I’m going to ask you to turn it off. If you don't... well, my tolerance vanishes instantly. It’s pretty simple: if you ignore the request, you’ve essentially disrespected the grace I've been giving you this whole time.

To me, tolerance isn't just some vague concept—it’s about accepting people's differences, their boundaries, and the choices they make. But here’s the catch: it only really works if there’s a mutual understanding—if people actually recognize and respect the grace you're extending to them. Because let's be honest, if I'm out here being patient and accommodating toward some Dummy who doesn't give a damn about respecting that very same tolerance... well, then I'm just being a Dummy myself.

Quentin:

Look, if we’re already cool with something—if it’s just part of our normal baseline—then we aren't actually being "tolerant." We’re just existing. It’s like when you don't even blink at a certain rule because it makes sense to you; there's no effort involved, so there's no virtue in it. In my mind, true tolerance only really kicks in when we encounter something we *don't* agree with, or something that feels fundamentally undeserved. That’s the only time we actually have the opportunity to flex that muscle—when we choose to be accepting despite the fact that, on paper, we shouldn't be. 😉

Like I was saying before—tolerance really has to be a two-way street. If it isn't—if that balance is off—then you’re basically just handing someone a free pass to walk all over you and play you for a fool.

Oh, absolutely. More often than not, strawberries end up being the final destination for a whole lot of deep spiritual debates 🙂

amberbadger8 said:..Respect goes to those who actually try to share their meditation experiences constructively while staying open to new insights.. everything else is just petty bickering and a complete waste of time... then you have those people who claim to have something to contribute, but they’re really just throwing words around at someone who isn't currently "open to similar realizations"... It’s a good thing that many people lurking in the background read this; they pull actual insights from these posts, even if they don't jump into the fray... otherwise, the whole thing would be an exercise in total futility... honestly, some people could really use a lesson in humility if they want to grasp the sheer brilliance being written here..

Well, if they truly needed it, they probably wouldn't be the type of people to have it in the first place—and that’s kind of the beauty of humility. It isn't something forced upon anyone; we can all live without it if we choose... but on the flip side, it’s a tool that serves anyone willing to embrace it. And embracing something is, by definition, a choice—something we can do, but aren't obligated to do.

What I’m trying to get at is that humility forced by authority or social pressure isn't actually humility at all—it's just submission. Real humility is always, exclusively, a result of one's own free will and personal choice. It's not something you "catch" on a crowded subway like a common cold.

Anyone who understands this also tends to see the next part of the puzzle. Humility isn't just for those who explicitly refuse to be humble—which is usually the crowd whose main interest is keeping others submissive. These are the folks who mistake their own lack of humility for simply being "subordinate" to someone else.

No matter how much they hide behind clever wordplay, fake motives, or the shield of political correctness, it's pretty obvious they still don't get it: true "control" only exists when there is nothing left to control. These types feel this desperate need to manage everything—starting with their own lives and then moving on to policing everyone else's opinions. Every sentence they utter feels like a calculated attempt to pose as "the one who holds the truth." They rarely care about whether what they're saying is actually productive; instead, they're constantly preoccupied with maintaining a facade that masks their own personal ambitions and shortcomings.

But then again... those who have embraced humility actually end up depending on the ones who refuse to. In a strange way, the non-humble are an essential part of the humble's existence—otherwise, everything would just be the same, or rather, everything would feel completely meaningless. Paradoxically, the arrogant are a built-in component of the humble lifestyle, except for the fact that they aren't even aware of it, so they spend all their energy trying to prove how important they are to everyone else. The tragedy is that they are essentially victims of their own judgment and their refusal to accept who they really are. And the even bigger tragedy? A world without them would be a genuine, profound tragedy. This is where true empathy is actually "born"—true & unconditional compassion that arises from actual understanding, rather than being some hollow ideological concept taught to us by some guru, a Buddha, or whoever else.

Anyway. Thanks for such an interesting comment—it really inspired me to dig a little deeper into the concept of humility, which is clearly another indispensable ingredient for living a quality, meditative life.

Jeremy Palmer said:I'm with you on that...

Quincy:

Oh, come on now... since you brought it up... tell me, what exactly did you run into when you talk about all that darkness, death, horror, and those bizarre phenomena?

It’s actually quite scary when you think about it—that deep, primal instinctual fear. It really is the root of everything; all our aggression and every other fear we experience basically stems from that one core source. Fear of death.It’s really about that transition—breaking away from all those conceptual, intellectual, and deeply personal ideas to move toward a higher kind of silence that serves as the source of everything. This shift actually threatens every single one of our starting points. It tears down the entire structure we’ve built out of ego, thought patterns, interpretations, and beliefs—basically everything we constructed as children once we were taught language and given an identity through our upbringing. Eventually, everyone has to face this fear. Honestly, it’s just part of the mind's strategy to keep us trapped within familiar boundaries, preventing us from taking that leap into the non-conceptual. It’s a leap toward surrendering the individual self and finally breaking free from the grip of the ego's structure.

Quincy:

In my opinion, chasing that raw physical sensation—that pure bliss—is going a bit overboard. It feels like you're just pleasure-seeking at that point. I’m not saying it’s "wrong" or inherently damaging, but honestly, you'll have all the time in the world to indulge in that once you're dead. At the end of the day, an experience should just be a tool to gain insight. People tend to label things, listen to the message, and then mistakenly believe the meaning lies within the message itself. You need to understand the message, sure, but then you really need to hang up the phone.

Look, Shamantrix Shaman, I wasn't out there chasing bliss; it just sort of found me. Bliss is more of a byproduct than something you can set as a goal or a motive. I could certainly point you toward some pre-packaged answers from those enlightened masters about where bliss comes from, but in my experience, once you actually dive into the silence, that's when it greets you.

Quincy:

I’ve been thinking about free will lately, and honestly, I think it’s actually a negative description. It doesn't really describe a specific "type" of will; instead, it just points to an absence of inevitability. If you lack any capacity for reaction, then everything is essentially inevitable for you. But as your ability to react grows, so does your degree of what we call "freedom"—which is really just the increasing absence of necessity.

I see things a little differently. To me, the human condition is a paradox—we are essentially living out a duality, a constant split between being the wave and being the ocean all at once. Think about it: millions of biological processes are happening inside our bodies right now, running seamlessly, automatically, and in perfect sync without us ever having to lift a finger. From the perspective of the "ocean," everything is predetermined. But from the perspective of the "wave"—our individual selves—we are constantly making decisions, analyzing, choosing, and deciding which direction to head. I don't think free will is some kind of illusion. Instead, I feel that the will we experience within ourselves is actually the will of the divine. In the same way, the love we feel deep down is simply the love of the divine flowing through us.

Everything that unfolds is simply a consequence of your own unfolding. In other words, things aren't just happening *to* you; rather, you are the one happening to yourself. You might feel like you're being "guided," but it's really the "flow" that directs everything, and you are an essential part of that movement. This flow tends to follow certain patterns, primarily moving along the path of least resistance... much like water finding its way down a hill. Yet, within those inevitable patterns, everything is temporary, subject to change and "free will." When we surrender to being "guided," we are actually just following that path of least resistance. If you find yourself caught in a shipwreck or a sudden storm... doing so is the only sensible thing you can do. But there are moments where being part of the change and the unfolding is just as vital as following the easiest route... because the absolute minimum resistance is death... and as I've already pointed out... there will be plenty of "time" for that later.

I agree with you that "everything that unfolds is a consequence of my own unfolding" and that "the flow is what guides everything," but my take is slightly different. When we find our divine source—that center, that stillness—either through meditation or some stroke of crazy luck, we rest in that center without moving, simply existing. From that "position" (sorry, that’s a clumsy word choice, but I hope you get what I mean), a massive energy begins to move on the periphery, right where we exist as a wave rather than the entire ocean. That energy then manifests in life as love, compassion, or creativity… it can take many forms depending on whether it's directed toward the head or the heart. But first, you have to find the SOURCE, and once you do, it becomes the direct guidance for the wave.

This guidance happens spontaneously and unconsciously. When that center hasn't been found yet, it refers to that one magnetic force (which I believe all "spiritual seekers" recognize) that pulls us inward, clears a path before us, and leads us deeper and deeper until we are completely consumed. In that way, we are guided by the flow while simultaneously being both the flow and our own guide.

Projection can never be a "sign of spiritual maturity," and that is exactly what you are offering. You are projecting your own mental image of "spiritual maturity" where someone maintains composed mastery over something. It is precisely from these types of images that humans created God "in their own image." Show me who is guiding you, and I will set you free from that "guidance."

No, I didn't say that someone masters something; I said that the mind becomes a servant rather than the master of the inner space. Within that inner space, there is NO ONE there to be a master. The flow takes care of itself... So, in a paradoxical sense—there is no one to be guided, and in that sense, no such thing as guidance exists. That concept only exists if we speak like two separate waves... There you go, 🙂—the closer we get to the center, the more we drift into paradox and illogic...

Alright, let's go with that. We can absolutely take this as our solid baseline—a point where there’s no longer any room for debate because we’re all on the same page. Honestly, once you truly wrap your head around what language actually *is*—even if you're just looking at it from a broad, conceptual standpoint—it feels like you've cracked one of those massive, fundamental life puzzles. It’s one of those "aha!" moments that changes how you see everything else.

Quincy:

It’s honestly pretty terrifying when you really sit down and think about it—this deep, primal instinct that sits right at the core of us. It’s like this underlying current of fear that everything else just bubbles up from. You know how all that aggression we see in the world works? Or all those smaller, more frantic anxieties people carry around? They aren't separate things, really. They're all just symptoms of that one foundational, instinctive dread. It’s the root cause of it all. I’ve been sitting here thinking about that heavy, quiet weight we all carry sometimes—that deep-seated fear of death. It’s one of those things you don't really talk about over coffee or at a backyard BBQ, but it’s always there, isn't it? Just hovering in the background of our lives like a low hum you eventually stop noticing until the room goes silent. It’s funny, though—we spend so much of our energy trying to outrun it. We buy insurance, we obsess over wellness trends, we try to build these massive legacies through our work or our families, almost as if we're trying to leave a footprint deep enough that the tide can't wash it away. It’s like trying to build a sandcastle during high tide; no matter how intricate the towers are, the ocean always wins in the end. But I wonder if that fear is actually a compass. If we weren't afraid of the finish line, would we even bother running the race? Maybe that anxiety is just life's way of reminding us that the clock is ticking—not to scare us, but to nudge us. It’s like when you realize you only have an hour left before a flight departs; suddenly, you aren't scrolling aimlessly anymore. You move. You focus. You prioritize. There’s a certain kind of peace that comes from accepting the inevitable, though. Not a "giving up" kind of peace, but more like the feeling of finally putting down a heavy suitcase after a long day of traveling. Once you stop fighting the fact that everything is temporary, you start looking at the present moment with a bit more clarity. You realize that the beauty of a sunset isn't diminished because it fades—it's actually made more precious by the fact that it won't last forever. I don't have all the answers, obviously. None of us do. But I think leaning into the discomfort, rather than constantly looking for a distraction, might be the only way to actually live. It's about finding a balance between honoring the fragility of life and refusing to let that fragility paralyze us..

Just like bliss is nothing more than an aftereffect—a byproduct of something else—fear of death is also just a consequence of something deeper. And let’s be honest, that "something" can't actually be death itself, because you're still here, breathing and very much alive. It has to be your own projection, isn't it? It's the mental concept you've built around the idea of dying. Think about it this way: by its very definition, anything unknown is... well, unknown. Death is a total blank slate to us, just as life is an absolute mystery to those who have passed on. We are both so fundamentally unknowable to one another that the living and the dead exist in two completely different worlds—they never truly meet. 🙂

In other words... you didn't actually answer the question about what you encountered—you just described the fallout from that encounter, which showed up as this overwhelming "fear of death."

We’re really talking about that shift from clinging to our intellectual concepts—all those little mental labels we hold onto—toward a kind of transcendent silence that actually serves as the foundation for everything else. It’s a massive move, honestly. This transition threatens every single starting point we rely on; it shakes the entire structure we've spent our lives building out of ego, intellect, interpretations, and beliefs. It’s basically dismantling everything we were taught as kids once we learned how to use language and were handed a pre-packaged explanation of who we are supposed to be. The thing is, you eventually have to face this fear head-on. It’s almost like a built-in defense mechanism—a strategy the mind uses to keep us locked within these familiar boundaries. It wants to keep us safe in what we already know, rather than letting us take that leap toward the non-conceptual. It's an invitation to step away from the noise, surrender the idea of "individuality," and finally break those ties with the ego-driven structure we've been living in.

Look, this is just my humble take on things—but I honestly think you might have misread what’s actually happening during those moments you describe as "bliss" or that "fear of death." Because of that, you've landed on some very specific conclusions that seem perfectly logical and intuitive on the surface... but only if you overlook what you're truly confronting when you're right in the middle of those experiences.

At the end of the day, I’ve come to realize that the ego is really just an absolute abstraction—a mental construct that doesn't actually hold any inherent power over you. It only exerts control insofar as you choose to believe it’s some sort of tangible, permanent entity that can force your hand. It’s a bit like believing in a ghost in a house; if you’re convinced there's something lurking in the hallway, you'll jump at every creak in the floorboards—but the fear isn't coming from the ghost, it's coming from your own conviction. Once you see that, it becomes clear: when you believe the ego has authority, it does. Your own belief acts as the lever that triggers this whole cycle of self-imposed pressure.

So, the question still stands: what kind of situations have you actually run into—the ones that left you with everything from a decent little story to those much more awkward encounters, or even the downright unpleasant ones?

I’ve always felt that the real answer boils down to self-awareness—that deep, internal kind of knowing that we all pretty much agree is the absolute prerequisite for meditation to actually work. If you don't have that foundation, meditation just ends up being this sporadic, occasional thing you do when you feel like it, rather than what it's truly meant to be: a seamless, integrated way of living your life every single day.

Techniques and methods are really just crutches for people who haven't quite grasped the core of things yet. I’ve always felt that true meditation isn't some rigid set of instructions or a specific method you follow—it’s actually rooted in deep perception and genuine understanding. When you get to that point, everything else just flows naturally. Your actions become spontaneous, almost effortless, because you aren't "meditating" anymore; you're just living from a place of clarity. It’s like being fully illuminated by your own inner light, having a perception that’s as clear and unobstructed as a polished mirror. Think about it this way: when a kind, thoughtful person looks into a mirror, they see that same pleasant individual looking back at them from the other side. But when someone who’s acting foolishly looks into that same mirror? Well, all they ever see is a fool staring back from the other side, too.

Look, I don't want this to come off the wrong way—I really don't—but I’m going to hold off on commenting on the rest of your post until you get a chance to weigh in on one specific question. To me, it feels like an absolutely vital piece of the puzzle if we're actually going to wrap our heads around what's happening here. Honestly, I'm pretty convinced that this "little detail" is the exact thing you might have overlooked, and it's likely the very reason why everyone seems to be seeing things so differently right now.

wiredbear2 said:Quincy:

Edward Flores4 As specified by: Only those individuals truly capable of it actually meditate. Anything that isn't spontaneous simply isn't meditation. It is only through spontaneity that one can be truly free from the constant "calculating" of the mind. Real meditation is nothing more than a direct, raw reactivity to pure perception. This scheduled, disciplined practice of "sitting down to meditate" isn't spontaneous at all... it's just another thing you plan, measure, and ultimately expect something from...

So spoken Shamantrix Shaman... 🙂

Shamantrix Shaman, you’ve provided such an incredibly thorough explanation to all of us here regarding your personal philosophy on meditation and what it truly represents to you... It was quite a deep dive. I noticed you brought Krishnamurti into the conversation as well, which isn't exactly surprising given his influence; there is something about his essays that allows almost anyone to find a piece of themselves within his words... though, of course, one must be careful to steer clear of any lingering dogmatism...
Don't you think that’s exactly where the beauty lies—in the absolute freedom to interpret a single concept, like meditation, on your own terms? It feels to me that you are just as right in your interpretation as I am in mine, when I choose to approach it through my own lens... For you, meditation is this spontaneous state of being, an unbroken flow that exists beyond measure, something that simply *is*... And yet, there is a subtle irony here; the way you present this concept to us is actually quite constrained, because it is bounded by your own specific definitions. By defining meditation as something inherently spontaneous, limitless, and immeasurable, you have effectively boxed it in with your own criteria. You've declared it to be those things, and thus, in your view, the conversation ends there. There is no further room for discussion... It seems as though you are directing these words of freedom only toward yourself, without truly listening to anyone else. Have you ever paused to ask yourself, who am I to dictate to another person what meditation actually IS? All you can truly offer is your own perspective on what meditation means to you...
You're right, and yet, you're not quite right either... Everything you’ve laid out is indeed meditation, but it isn't solely limited to just those things...
You know, I truly believe that meditation is both an entirely spontaneous occurrence and a measurable achievement—a deliberate pursuit of that elusive peace and profound silence...
I suppose I’m speaking purely from my own experience when I say this, but the idea of existing in a state of constant meditation, twenty-four hours a day... it sounds beautiful, truly, but isn't there something a bit illusory about expecting that from "ordinary" people like us? For me, after an exhausting, high-pressure day at the office, I sometimes manage to force myself into a moment of stillness—lighting a candle and just trying to let go through meditation. Some days, I actually succeed, and other days, I simply can't. There are moments when I don't even bother attempting it because my mind feels far too scattered and restless to settle down. But then, there are those rare, wonderful instances where I don't have to try at all; the calm just arrives on its own, spontaneously... and honestly, those are the most beautiful moments of all...
So, what now? Am I just supposed to sit around waiting for some perfect, idealized moment to arrive? I’ve finally managed to tailor my entire practice to fit who I am... and honestly, after a session of "targeted" meditation, I feel this profound sense of peace, a stillness in my mind that feels so deeply settled. Sometimes, it even feels more restorative than when I just dive into something spontaneous...
I suppose I don't really have anything particularly profound to add to the conversation here. I fully accept the idea that what resonates with me might not necessarily resonate with someone else... and the same applies in reverse...

Everything I say—just like everything anyone else ever says—is nothing more than a personal representation and a glimpse through the lens of "the one speaking." No one is actually in a position to give you anything other than their own specific perspective on how things look. There isn't some ultimate authority out there that can tell you exactly how the color red is supposed to appear to you. For you, red is simply whatever it is that you perceive as red... and that’s that. Period.

I honestly don't see why you feel the need to constantly emphasize that this is "your vision"—it’s pretty much obvious from the jump, isn't it?

Quincy:

Don't you think that’s exactly where the beauty lies? The fact that you have the total freedom to interpret one thing—in this case, meditation—on your own terms. It’s like we can both be absolutely right at the same time, just because I'm looking at it through my lens while you're viewing it through yours.

Honestly? I don't see the beauty in it, but I don't see a problem either. I'm totally on board with the idea that if someone feels like they need to go see a psychiatrist, then they really should—it’s probably worth having someone give their headspace a professional "tune-up." In other words, if you feel like you need something, you need it. If you feel like you don't, then you don't. It’s as simple as that.

Quincy:

Look, I get it—to you, meditation is this spontaneous state of being, something that just flows constantly without any way to measure it... But the way you're presenting it to us here feels a bit limited—it's ultimately bounded by your own personal perspective and how you choose to quantify it.

If we actually knew one another—like, truly, deeply knew each other—then my words would have some kind of measurable weight when held up against who I really am. But since we’re essentially strangers, my words aren't really "me" to you; instead, they just act as raw material for your own mind to build a mental picture. And that picture—whatever version of me you’ve constructed in your head—is really just a projection of your own psyche. In a way, you’re actually measuring my words against your own internal compass, because you're the one who shaped that image based on what I said. I know, it sounds a bit deep and maybe even a little complicated... but I think if you sit with it for a second, you'll catch my drift.

I just want to be clear about my position here—I’m only ever sharing what I personally perceive, which is really the only thing I’m capable of talking about. The actual process of measuring or comparing those ideas? That happens entirely within you, the reader. In my view, what you choose to measure and the final result you get from that measurement are two completely different, disconnected things. It’s like that old saying: the map is not the territory. 🙂

Quincy:

Have you ever stopped to wonder who I actually am to be telling anyone else what meditation IS? At the end of the day, all I can really offer is my own perspective—just my own take on what the whole thing means to me.

Of course I am. Honestly, I’ve come to realize that the whole point of these forums is the actual exchange of ideas—where we seek out those different perspectives that can actually stretch our own horizons. If someone comes here just looking for an echo chamber where everyone agrees with them, they’re going to end up incredibly frustrated. That kind of "yes-man" environment—that constant seeking of like-minded validation—is exactly what you find in religious institutions, political parties, cults, or sects. That's not why we're here.

Look, I’m not claiming to be some kind of untouchable authority figure here—I’m just the author of my own thoughts. That’s really all there is to it. To me, writing "with authority" doesn't mean I'm claiming to have the absolute truth, or that I can't be dead wrong sometimes. It just means I actually stand behind everything I put on the page. When I say that, I mean I’ve done the work to ensure that every single sentence, every specific word, and every concept I bring up can be broken down and explained through dozens of different metaphors, analogies, perspectives, or real-world examples. If we get into a debate, I should be able to define exactly what I mean by any term I use. I won't hide behind vague excuses like "it's ineffable," "it's a state of no-mind," or some other spiritual way of saying "I've surrendered my reason to a higher power." I believe in being clear, not hiding behind mystery.

So, I’m not really trying to lecture you all here—not by a long shot. What I’m actually looking for is some solid, high-quality counterarguments. See, there's this funny little paradox where every time we expand our "scope of understanding," we simultaneously push out the boundaries of what we don't understand even further. It's like chasing a horizon line—the more you move toward it, the more space opens up ahead of you. Since the "unknown" is essentially defined by its own mystery, I find myself relying on others to act as "agents" who can help facilitate an encounter with that unknown. In my view, that's really the only mechanism we have for pushing the needle of understanding any further.

Believe it or not, I’m really just here to run into something completely unexpected—to stumble upon ideas I haven't even considered yet. In the meantime, I figure I'll spend my time stress-testing everything I think I know by engaging with people who don't see eye to eye with me. Don't get me wrong, chatting with people who agree with everything I say is easy, but it doesn't actually move the needle or lead to anything constructive. It's just an echo chamber. I think that pretty much sums me up.

Quincy:

I mean, I’m just being honest when I say this—it sounds absolutely beautiful, right? The idea of living in a constant state of meditation, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. But let's be real for a second—isn't it a bit of an illusion to expect that from "regular" people like us?

Nobody is actually "ordinary"... everyone is inherently unique. The thing is, you only tend to notice the unusual because it stands out against the backdrop of what we consider normal. It’s like how you only really register a massive mountain or a jagged peak because it breaks up the flat, endless stretch of a plain between two hills. But hey, let's look closer at that...

If I actually walked around thinking I was some special snowflake or fundamentally different from "regular folks," I wouldn't be bothering to share my perspective with anyone at all. Honestly, I see myself as just as much an "average Joe" as anybody else—which, if you think about it, makes us all pretty much the same kind of unconventional. No one is born with a golden ticket or marked as "chosen." Everything I’ve managed to figure out or achieve is stuff that anyone else could do if they put in the work. I don't have some secret, unfair advantage that would somehow justify treating "you regular people" differently or suggest that there's some level of insight that's just off-limits to everyone else.

Quincy:

So, after a day that’s just absolutely draining, I sometimes manage to force myself to slow down—you know, light a candle, settle in, and try to find some peace through meditation. Some days it works beautifully, and other times? Not so much. There are even those nights where I don't even bother trying because my brain is just too scattered and restless to sit still. But then there are those rare, perfect moments where I don't have to push at all; it just happens spontaneously. Honestly, those are the best moments of all.

That’s totally fine—really, there’s nothing wrong with that approach. Honestly, I’d much rather someone try to lower their stress levels through meditation than not bother at all. It's better than nothing, right? But at the same time, I can't help but feel like it's a bit of a missed opportunity if you aren't practicing that mindfulness while you're actually at work. If you could catch the stress before it even takes root during the workday, you'd be heading home feeling completely unburdened. You wouldn't just be "managing" the pressure—you'd be avoiding the buildup entirely. That way, you could actually show up for your life at home and give your full attention to whatever matters most, instead of being stuck constantly relying on how well a specific "stress reduction" technique worked for you later in the evening.

I’m telling you this from my own personal experience—and trust me, I work in one of the most high-pressure industries out there today. Believe me when I say that very little compares to the sheer stress of being forced to produce something "creative" on an impossibly tight deadline. Having to whip up a design by "tomorrow morning" and then being held responsible for how it actually performs in the market? That is a genuine pain in the ass.

Quincy:

So, what now? Am I supposed to just sit around waiting for some perfect, "ideal" moment to strike? Honestly, I’ve just started tailoring my practice to fit my own life—making things work for me rather than fighting against them. And you know what? After doing some "targeted" meditation, I actually feel this deep sense of peace; my mind is just... quiet. Sometimes it even feels more profound than when I just dive into it spontaneously. I don't really have any grand, profound wisdom to drop on anyone here. I've just come to accept that what works for me might not work for someone else at all—and that’s perfectly okay. It goes both ways, really.

Well, nothing much to say there... 🙂

Look, I’m not coming out here saying anyone needs to drop their habits, overhaul their lifestyle, or make excuses because of what I have to say. I’m just offering a different perspective—strictly my own personal take. I’m not out here peddling an ideology, a specific technique, or some rigid belief system... I don't see myself as someone who is "fixing" anyone, nor do I believe people actually *need* fixing.

If someone happens to stumble upon something interesting in my words—maybe they tuck a little thought away just as a "curiosity" or a "possibility"—well, then if I happen to be right, that person will likely find those ideas resurfacing at just the right moment. It'll hit them when those ideas offer a cleaner, simpler way to make sense of their own "life drama" than whatever old interpretations they were clinging to before.

On the flip side, if I’ve just rambled on through a heap of nonsense, that nonsense won't offer any better explanations for anything. In that case, and quite rightfully so, nobody will even bother remembering the junk I wrote about two months down the road. That’s just how I see things. 🙂

In my experience, people react to my views in all sorts of ways; some are just genuinely curious, while others can get pretty prickly. Usually, that tension kicks in when people sense there might be some truth to what I'm saying. It’s like if you tried to convince someone that the Earth is shaped like a pyramid—which is obviously absurd—they’d probably just laugh it off. They wouldn't feel the need to push back with a question like:

Quincy:

Have you ever stopped to wonder who I am to be lecturing anyone else?

Typically, the folks reacting to my thoughts fall into two camps: those who are already doubting the very same things I am, or those who are terrified of the possibility that I might actually be right. The latter group tends to resort to belittling or provocation, and honestly, I always enjoy giving them a taste of their own medicine—sometimes even a bit more.

But at the end of the day, I walk away having learned something from both groups. Whether they decide to learn something themselves is entirely up to them. I'm not here to be anyone's teacher... I'm primarily here to learn something for myself.

Jeremy Palmer said:People who introduce the idea of "measuring" meditation are usually the ones who created the concept of measurement in the first place. It’s actually pretty common at the start, when you’re treating meditation like a goal to be achieved or a task to check off a list. But once you actually stumble upon that inner silence, everything changes. It stops being a chore and starts becoming pure enjoyment. You do it simply because the silence feels beautiful, and you realize you can just keep diving deeper. At that point, you're doing it for the sheer joy of it—much like how someone might go for a long walk or dance just because it feels good. There’s no need for timers or metrics unless you're the type of person who lives by the clock. Most people follow a similar path: first, they calculate and track their progress; then, they start to actually enjoy the process; and eventually, they begin to carry that stillness out of their practice and into their everyday lives. They live within that quietude until the moment comes where they realize they don't even "need" to meditate anymore. They've realized that they *are* the inner silence. That’s when meditation truly becomes a seamless part of living.

Quincy:

Only those types of people actually meditate. Anything that isn't spontaneous just isn't true meditation. Only when things happen spontaneously can you be free from all that mental "calculating." To me, meditation is simply that direct, raw reactivity to pure perception. Setting aside specific time to "sit and meditate" isn't spontaneous at all—it’s just something you schedule and measure, something you approach with an expectation of getting something out of it.

Being spontaneous really means you're naturally detached from the mind. It’s about being effortlessly free from the constant harassment of your own thoughts, emotions, and impulses. When you're truly spontaneous, you aren't reactive anymore; instead, you're grounded in your true self, acting from a place of pure awareness rather than just reacting on a mental level. Honestly, seeing that kind of natural detachment is incredibly rare. Personally, I don't know a single person who was born with that kind of innate clarity.

Quincy:

You know how Americans say it... you know the lyrics, but you just can't catch the tune. The silence you’re talking about isn't actually about sound. Think about it like this: imagine you're standing outside on New Year's Eve, and suddenly, firecrackers start going off everywhere. They're popping one after another, coming from every single direction at once. It’s total chaos. Yet, in that exact moment, you find this absolute, perfect silence inside your head. 😉

The silence I was talking about isn't actually about sound, either. Did you conclude that I meant silence as just an absence of noise? Look, as a Shaman, I’ve been meditating since 1992. I truly understand what it means to meditate with the goal of "fixing" yourself. I know what it feels like to be motivated, to calculate during practice, or to desperately want to become someone else—someone better. I know exactly when meditation starts to feel like a chore, and I know when you encounter the darkness, death, horror, or those bizarre phenomena. I understand the heavy lifting of self-work, as well as the trap of trying too hard to change. I know the danger of postponing your actual life until some future version of yourself arrives—the idea that we'll finally be "better" if we just sit for enough hours, repeat enough mantras, or fast enough. But I also know the magnetic pull of meditation. I know bliss—not just regular bliss, but that overwhelming, almost unbearable, ever-growing bliss. I know the unparalleled joy of it because I know the pull of that true silence. And ultimately, I know what spontaneous meditation feels like. Unfortunately, I also know what it feels like to lose it. I know the lyrics, and I definitely know the tune.

Quincy:

Everyone is constantly immersed in a continuous flow of meditation... it's just that the vast majority of people have learned how to ignore it. And even among those who decide to sit down and meditate (again), most find clever ways to procrastinate, using the eternal excuse that they still need to "work on themselves." Whether someone is in a constant state of meditation or not, they are exactly where they are supposed to be. We are constantly changing... all on our own. All we really need to do is stop obstructing that process with fixations and excuses. The moment you stop trying to perceptually focus and fixate, meditation begins. It is the natural state of consciousness—one that is usually disrupted by routines, techniques, ideologies, and spellbinding (language).

Of course, humans change on their own. No one is actually "doing" anything; it's all the energy behind us. We just hold onto the idea that we are the ones performing the actions. Whether we are breathing, acting, making decisions, or giving important advice to others about what to do or not do, we always assume it’s the result of our free will. But if you accept that free will doesn't really exist as such, then you’ll realize that the same energy that inspires someone to grab a boat and head out fishing is the same energy that inspires someone to sit in meditation. If everything is naturally geared toward our growth because a divine energy is guiding us all toward liberation, and if free will isn't a thing, then there is no free will even for those who formally practice meditation. They are being guided. The others who don't practice are being guided differently. If you meditate naturally and spontaneously and possess clear insight, then you know that everything in the universe is always in perfect balance. Deciding whether to meditate or not is optional, but a sure sign of spiritual maturity is being grounded in an awareness that results in a steady mind—one that acts as a servant rather than the master of your inner space.

🙂

Look, let's just say you view this as an inevitable part of the process—something that simply has to happen—and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it that we really need to sit around and debate.

Quincy:

Being spontaneous—true spontaneity—means a person is naturally detached from the mind. It’s that effortless state where you aren't being constantly harassed or bullied by your own thoughts, emotions, or primal impulses. You aren't reacting to everything like a reflex; instead, you're actually grounded in your true self, acting out of pure awareness rather than just running on autopilot from some mental script. Honestly, seeing that kind of natural detachment is incredibly rare. I mean, personally, I don't know a single soul who was born with that kind of innate clarity.

We’re all born this way—pure and unfiltered—but then we get taught how to weaponize language, and honestly, everything just goes straight down the drain. 😁

Quincy:

Look, I’ve been practicing meditation since 1992—so I've put in my fair share of hours—and I actually know what we're talking about here. I know exactly what it feels like when you approach meditation with a specific goal in mind, trying to "fix" yourself, or when you're just riding a wave of motivation. I know the feeling of trying to calculate your way through a session, or that subtle, restless urge to transform into someone else, or some other version of yourself. I also know the darker side of the coin—when meditation stops being a peaceful retreat and starts feeling like a total grind. I’ve been there, sitting in the stillness, only to run headfirst into pure darkness—facing death, sheer horror, or those truly bizarre, unsettling phenomena that most people don't talk about. It's not all sunshine and rainbows.

Oh, come on now... since you brought it up—tell me, do you actually know what you’re dealing with when you start talking about the darkness, death, horror, and those truly bizarre phenomena?

Look, I’m not sitting here expecting some grand, mythological breakdown filled with demons and illusions—that's not really what I'm after. What I'm actually looking for is a way to wrap my head around those old mythological descriptions, maybe by blending them with a bit of my own personal insight.

I’m asking because, honestly, experience alone doesn't mean a damn thing if you don't actually have a functional understanding of what happened. To me, those kinds of experiences are a lot like getting a random phone call from an unknown number—they might be useful if you actually know who's calling and why, but without that context? It's just noise. Otherwise, you're basically just sitting there watching a movie projected onto your mind—one that's designed to either entertain you or scare the hell out of you. I hope you see where I'm coming from?

Quincy:

I truly understand what it means to "work on yourself"—and I also know the traps that come with it. There’s that dangerous tendency to put your life on hold, constantly deferring your actual existence to some hypothetical future version of yourself. You tell yourself you'll finally start living once you've sat through enough hours of meditation, repeated enough mantras, fasted enough, or checked off all those other spiritual boxes. It’s easy to fall into that loop of waiting to become someone "better." But at the same time, I get the pull of meditation. I know that bliss—not just a little bit of peace, but that overwhelming, almost unbearable, soaring bliss. I’ve experienced that boundless joy because I know how magnetic silence can be. And ultimately, I know what it feels like when meditation becomes spontaneous, just a natural part of being. Unfortunately, I also know exactly what it feels like to lose it. I know the lyrics, and I definitely know the tune.

In my opinion, chasing that raw physical sensation—that pure bliss—is honestly going way beyond the point. It’s just straight-up pleasure seeking at that stage. Now, I’m not saying it’s "wrong" or that it’s going to ruin your life, but let's be real: you’ll have plenty of "time" to indulge in that once you're dead. At the end of the day, an experience should really just be a tool for gaining insight. But people tend to get hung up on the labels; they hear a message, cling to it, and somehow convince themselves that the meaning lies within the message itself. That’s where they miss the mark. You need to grasp what the message is telling you, and then—once you've truly understood it—you need to hang up the phone.

Quincy:

But if you accept that free will as such doesn't exist...

I definitely don't accept that. Free will clearly exists, and I can argue that from at least three different angles. The best one might be this:

Free will is actually a negative description. It doesn't describe a specific "type of will," but rather just the "absence of inevitability." For someone who lacks any reactive capacity, everything is inevitable—but for someone who possesses reactive capacity, the degree of that "absence of inevitability" grows proportionally with their reactive possibilities.

If everything were purely inevitable, we wouldn't even have the physiological reactive capacity specifically adapted to where we live... that much is obvious.

On the other hand, if everything happened exclusively as a consequence of our "free will"—we’d be dead in no time. You don't actually know how your endocrine glands, your liver, or your immune system function. If you had to "trigger" any of those things using your own free will, you'd be in huge trouble.

So, it's clear that besides "willful" actions, we have "inevitabilities" and "automations." Other people's "automations" become our "inevitabilities," and vice versa. Everything that steps outside the framework of "automations" becomes the subject of "free will." To say that free will doesn't exist is to deny your own reactive mechanism—a mechanism whose very function is an essential part of the process of consciousness fragmentation and differentiation, which in turn creates the problem that is simultaneously the foundation of life itself.

This ultimately leads us to the conclusion that "free will" is actually a problem that constantly generates division and conflict, and those divisions and conflicts are the driving engine of existence and life as we know it. So... that’s one way of looking at it, and if you don't follow that one, I can certainly offer another—though that would probably depend on your answer to the question regarding "darkness and horror."

Quincy:

If everything in nature is directed toward our growth because divine energy guides us all toward liberation, if free will doesn't exist—then it doesn't exist for those who formally meditate either. They are being guided as well.

I don't agree with this either; it contradicts everything Krishnamurti said, not to mention common sense. Reactive capacity, simply by its existence, negates any possibility of being "guided by higher instances."

Everything that happens is a consequence of your own happening. In other words, nothing is "happening to you"—rather, you are the one happening to yourself. You might feel "guided," but the "flow" is what "guides" everything, and you are a vital part of that "flow." This flow has to follow certain norms, primarily moving along the path of least resistance... much like water flowing downhill. But within those inevitable norms, everything is temporary, subject to change and "free will." When we surrender to being "guided," we are actually always moving along that line of least resistance. If you get caught in a shipwreck or a sandstorm... that's the only sensible thing you can do. But where you can be part of the change and the happening, it is equally nonsensical to move along the line of least resistance... because the smallest possible resistance is death... and as I already emphasized... there will be plenty of "time" for that.

Quincy:

If you meditate naturally and spontaneously and if you have clarity of insight—then you know that in the universe, everything is always in perfect balance. Whether or not one meditates is optional, but a sure sign of spiritual maturity is being grounded in awareness, resulting in a steady mind that acts as a servant rather than a master of the internal space....

Projection can't possibly be a "sign of spiritual maturity"—in fact, that’s exactly what you’re doing right now. You're just projecting your own mental image of what "spiritual maturity" should look like—this idealized picture where someone stays perfectly composed and in control of everything. It’s from these exact kinds of mental constructs that humans have gone about creating a god "in their own image." Show me who is actually pulling your strings, and I'll show you how to break free from that "guidance."

Jeremy Palmer said:I told Shaman that while they were quoting what might be an obstacle in meditation—what meditation isn't—I wanted to offer a few quotes about what meditation actually is. I wasn't trying to pick a fight or push back against anything you said. I was just building on your points, adding a little more since you already brought up Krishnamurti, just to broaden out HIS vision of meditation.

You seem to think that sitting down for specific meditation sessions isn't the point, but rather that a meditative state should be a way of life. In your view, the goal of meditation is

And I totally agree with that! But, I’d just like to ADD my own perspective to the mix.

To me, meditation is a journey of self-discovery that takes place in the solitude of one's inner being, far away from the noise of the outside world. To truly enter that silence, a person has to develop the skill to detach themselves from the mental chatter, the obsessions, and the powerful illusions that keep us trapped in a dream world.

In that sense, meditative techniques serve as a guide, leading the seeker into that inner space. Once someone finds that silence—once they learn how to distance themselves from the constant stream of thoughts, from falsehoods, from obsessions, and from the endless cycle of chasing pleasure and running from pain—once that silence becomes their reality, then meditation truly does become a way of life. At that point, formal sitting becomes almost redundant. I don't think it's about using one specific technique or one particular mantra; it's an art that, as Krishnamurti suggests, everyone needs to cultivate with the help of their own internal pilot. Very few people can spontaneously develop that level of intense inner presence and silence without some prior training.

In this complete silence of intense, thoughtless presence (or more often, where rare thoughts simply no longer touch the practitioner) within the solitude of an inner space grounded solely in awareness, a person isn't going anywhere. Paradoxically, they accept the world they are in completely. In fact, they develop a deep sensitivity to everything around them and a profound sense of belonging to the world, which brings that sense of ease—like the dance you mentioned. By acting from that silence, a person realizes that the whole is acting through them, and there's no need to do anything special, because, really, they can't "do" anything at all.

As for reactivity—that’s usually just a response to a stimulus. For someone immersed in a constant flow of meditation, a stimulus doesn't cause any internal friction. That doesn't mean they aren't responding; they provide an answer, and it’s always the right one. Not because they are particularly clever, but because the "ego" is no longer there to interfere; life simply expresses itself through them because they offer no resistance.

Anyway, please don't be annoyed, and definitely don't take this personally! 🙂

Exactly. I honestly think that’s just a convenient excuse to sneak the concept of measurement—you know, that whole "tracking incremental progress" thing—into meditation. By doing that, you’re essentially just pushing away actual, immediate transformation. It’s the exact same trap Krishnamurti was warning us about.

Quincy:

It’s actually pretty rare to find someone who can just dive straight into that intense level of inner presence—you know, that deep, quiet stillness—without having put in some serious groundwork or training first. Most people can't just flip a switch and be there spontaneously; it usually takes a bit of practice to get to that point.

Only those people really get into true meditation. Anything that isn't spontaneous—well, it just isn't meditation. Real meditation can only happen when you’re acting spontaneously, completely free from that constant "mental calculation" we all do. It’s about that direct, raw reactivity to pure perception. When you sit down with a plan, saying, "Okay, I am going to sit here and meditate now," that isn't spontaneous at all... it’s something you’ve scheduled and measured, something where you’re actually expecting a specific result.

Quincy:

It’s actually kind of a paradox—the world doesn't just accept this state, it fully embraces it. In fact, you start developing this incredible sensitivity to everything around you, paired with this profound sense of belonging to the entire universe. It gives you this natural flow, almost like the effortless grace of a dancer—which is exactly what you were getting at earlier. When you finally learn to act from that deep, inner silence, you realize that the whole of existence is moving through you. You stop feeling the need to force things or perform specific tasks, because, honestly, you realize you aren't even capable of acting independently from that wholeness.

You know how Americans have that saying... you know all the words to the song, but you haven't got a clue what the melody sounds like.

The silence you’re talking about—it actually has nothing to do with sound. Think about it like this: imagine you're standing outside on New Year's Eve, right in the middle of a big city like Chicago, and suddenly the fireworks start going off everywhere. Just total chaos—crackers popping, booms echoing from every direction, constant noise hitting you from all sides... and yet, in that exact moment, there's this absolute, profound silence inside your head. 😉

Quincy:

When we talk about reactivity, we have to realize it’s really just a byproduct of being triggered. It's like a reflex—if you're constantly being poked, you're going to jump. But for someone who is deeply immersed in a steady flow of meditation, those triggers don't really find any purchase. They don't cause that internal echo or emotional splashback. Now, don't get me wrong—that doesn't mean nothing is happening. There is still an action, a response, but it’s always the right one. And it isn't because the person has become some sort of genius or a master strategist; it’s actually much simpler than that. It’s because there is no longer a "self" standing there to take the hit. Since there's no ego left inside to push back or get defensive, life itself just flows through them without any friction. It’s like water flowing around a stone—except in this case, the stone has essentially dissolved, so the water just moves naturally, expressing itself exactly how it needs to.

We’re all basically swimming in a constant, flowing stream of meditation... it's always there. The problem is that most people have just become experts at tuning it out. And even for those who actually make the decision to sit down and meditate again—you know, to really dive back in—the vast majority find every possible way to push it off. They fall into this endless loop of making excuses, constantly telling themselves they need to spend more time "working on themselves" before they're finally ready to actually sit still.

It’s actually quite simple—someone who lives in a constant state of meditation is exactly who they are supposed to be. There isn't some grand transformation needed because a person is perpetually evolving on their own, just by being alive. All we really have to do is stop getting in our own way—you know, those little mental habits where we fixate on things or spin stories to justify why we feel the way we do. The second you let go of that intense, narrow focus—that desperate need to pin everything down and label it—meditation just happens. It’s like stepping out of a crowded, noisy room into a quiet garden; the stillness was always there, you were just too distracted to notice it. This is actually the natural state of consciousness. We only feel like we need all those complicated routines, specific techniques, rigid ideologies, or even "spellbinding" language because we’ve spent so much time disrupting our own peace. If we could just stop trying so hard to "do" it, we'd realize it's already happening.

Quincy:

Look, don't get worked up—and please, definitely don't take this personally.

I’m really not taking anything personally here... All I see on my monitor is just a bunch of letters on a screen. There isn't a single actual person existing on my display, 🙂

casualmaker13 said:Once again, we have someone drawing conclusions without having any actual knowledge or experience to back them up.
Claiming that meditation is a lifestyle that brings fewer problems while simultaneously reacting to a single post with a massive outburst of anger and rage—all because someone bruised an ego that had drifted into a state where you couldn't even control it anymore, leading you to lash out at everyone until you needed a timeout. 😍
To me, that just screams that you haven't the slightest clue what meditation actually is or how it works.
Someone who truly meditates and has progressed on that path has the capacity to choose how they respond. They might choose not to react because they don't take everything personally, or because they are masters of their own thoughts, emotions, and words. They act with intention, and they certainly wouldn't allow themselves to create the kind of karma you seem to be building up.
A person who lives in a meditative state 24/7 is essentially a sanctuary of peace, love, and tolerance.

Furthermore, you claim there's no technique and no authority, yet here you are quoting Krishnamurti and peddling his theories on what meditation is.

If meditation is supposed to be a way of life that creates fewer problems, why don't you try applying it just once? Maybe then other people's words wouldn't hit you so hard.
Lest we get carried away, let's just say that you demonstrate your "knowledge" of meditation through your actions and your words—from which it's pretty easy to conclude that you don't understand it at all. You clearly aren't practicing it, let alone living in that state 24 hours a day. 😉

First off... everything you read in my deleted post was just my honest take on you. It wasn't some emotional outburst or me being angry; it was simply stating the facts as I see them.

Secondly... you don't honestly think I'm going to fall for the same trick twice, do you? You start poking the bear, and then once I give you my perspective, Dragan starts handing out penalties, wipes my reply, and edits your provocations to make it look like my response came out of nowhere. Besides... you already know everything I have to say to you. If your memory is failing you... ask Dragan to send you a copy-paste of my last post so you can give it another read. I actually think you might even be able to find it in the official grievance PDF.🙂

As for you, this one seems to fit perfectly:
Democracy is a government where you can say what you think even if you don't think.

It’s pretty obvious to me that this whole concept is just a direct parallel to Catholic prayer. It feels like an act meant to heal or soothe one's conscience... almost like a way to compensate for being irresponsible in other areas of life. Just a pure formality, really.

hiddenhound3 said:Quincy:

Edward Flores4 As specified by Edward Flores4: Krishnamurti describes the core dilemma of meditation quite brilliantly, and his perspective aligns perfectly with my own understanding of the issue.

I find myself in general agreement with the notion that meditation is far from being merely a matter of dedicating a few minutes or even several hours each day to sitting in silence and attempting to clear one's thoughts. Rather, every single moment of the day can be lived through a meditative lens; in fact, I shall be bold enough to assert that meditation is, in essence, an overall state of mind.

Exactly. Meditation is basically a constant resistance against the hypnosis that most people spend their entire lives stuck in. It’s this hypnotic state—whether they’re inducing it themselves or just falling under the spell of some social group, a religion, a cult, a guru, a politician, an ideology, or even just the mass media.

Meditation is pure perception—stripped of all ambition, stripped of any kind of measurement (you know, that habit of using "metrics" as the foundation for all supposed "spiritual growth" or "progress"), and stripped of that separation between the thinker and the thought. When someone splits themselves into the thought and the thinker, and then that thinker tries to control the thoughts... well, they just end up in a state of total paralysis. That isn't meditation at all.

Jeremy Palmer said:So, what exactly do you think meditation creates?

A truly steady mind—one rooted deeply in its own being—remains calm regardless of what’s happening around it. It doesn't get to pick and choose when to be verbally aggressive and when to be tolerant; it stays consistent through thick and thin. What you're describing sounds more like typical human reactivity. We tend to cloud our judgment with selectivity, pre-judging every situation before it even unfolds. We often convince ourselves we have some sort of right to lash out at others just because, in our opinion, they "deserve" it. But let's be real: verbal aggression is always aggression. And if it isn't a heat-of-the-moment outburst, but rather something calculated and planned? Then it's nothing more than plain old sadism.

No, I think Krishnamurti does an excellent job here of describing what meditation is NOT. If you just read your quote without any context, you might walk away thinking he was actually against meditation. What meditation truly IS, however, is described right here:

As Krishnamurti once said:

Meditation is essentially the moment when thought finally comes to an end. It’s only once that noise settles that you can actually step into a different dimension—one that exists entirely beyond the constraints of time.

A truly meditative mind is defined by silence. I’m not talking about the quiet you feel on a calm evening or the kind of stillness you can just imagine; I mean the profound silence that occurs only when thought—with all its constant stream of images, words, and perceptions—completely stops. This meditative mind is The religious mind – The religion that is not touched by The church , The temple or by chants - Meditation is One of The Greatest Arts in Life – perhaps The Greatest.

Meditation is truly one of life's finest arts—honestly, maybe even the greatest. The best part? You can’t actually learn it from anyone else. There’s a certain beauty in that. Since there’s no specific technique to master, there’s no authority figure telling you you're doing it "wrong." It really comes down to self-discovery. If you can just observe yourself—watching how you walk, how you eat, the things you say, or even those little moments of gossip, resentment, or jealousy—that's where it starts. Being fully aware of all that within yourself, without judging or trying to pick and choose what to feel, is a fundamental part of meditation.

Meditation isn't just about sitting still on a cushion. It can happen anywhere—whether you're riding the bus through downtown Chicago, strolling through a sun-dappled forest, listening to the local songbirds, or simply catching a quiet moment while looking at the face of your spouse or your child.

- It is fascinating how vital meditation truly is; it feels as though it has no starting point and no finish line. Think of it like a single raindrop that feeds all the winding streams, massive rivers, oceans, and roaring waterfalls; that one drop sustains the entire planet and everyone on it. Without it, the world would just be a barren desert. In the same way, without meditation, the human heart turns into a wasteland.

- Let's be honest, meditation is actual work. It requires a very specific kind of discipline—not the kind where you just follow the crowd, imitate others, or obey rules—but a discipline born from staying constantly aware, not just of your surroundings, but of what's happening deep inside you.

- If you haven't built a foundation of integrity in your daily life, meditation just becomes a way to run away from reality, which makes it pretty much useless. Living with integrity isn't about sticking to social etiquette; it's about finding freedom from envy, greed, and the hunger for power—things that only ever create conflict. You don't get free from those things by trying harder with sheer willpower; you get there by becoming aware of them through genuine self-knowledge. If you don't understand how your own ego operates, meditation just turns into a form of sensory stimulation, which doesn't really mean much.

- Meditation is truly extraordinary. If you don't grasp what it actually is, you're a bit like someone who is blind living in a world full of vibrant colors, shifting shadows, and dancing light. It isn't some purely intellectual exercise. But when the heart truly connects with the mind, the mind changes entirely; it becomes limitless—not just in how it thinks or acts effectively, but in its ability to feel like you are part of a vast, interconnected space where you belong to everything.

Absolutely nothing. It’s just a way of living that tends to cause fewer headaches than other ways of living. It’s kind of like interpretive dance—it doesn't "create" anything tangible... the art is in the dancing itself, or rather, in the living.

Quincy:

A calm, steady mind in people who are truly grounded in their inner being remains peaceful regardless of the circumstances; they don't pick and choose when to be verbally aggressive versus when to stay tolerant—they remain consistent through everything.

I bet you’ve never heard of Zen Buddhists frequently drawing katanas, fighting wars, or killing when necessary, have you? 🙄

Even plants—which don't even have a "mind"—aren't the same under all conditions; they react differently depending on what's happening around them. They turn toward the sun, they bloom in the spring... things like that. 🙂

Basically, if you think meditation should result in you reacting to everything with total indifference... well, the only way to achieve that would be a lobotomy. As long as you have a brain, fire is hot and ice is cold. 😉

Quincy:

What you're describing is just standard human reactivity.

Exactly. Reactivity is what separates us from rocks. You can pick up a rock and throw it, and it won't have any capacity to react. Humans, fortunately, do—it just seems some people think losing that ability is some kind of "spiritual achievement." 🙄

Quincy:

...clouded by some sort of rule that we should be verbally aggressive toward others because, in our judgment, they deserve it.

And what should we do instead... just stop making judgments? Haven't you just "judged" me right now by deciding you don't agree with my judgment?

Or do you think it's "spiritual" to reduce oneself to the reactivity of a stone—to witness everything that passes by, whether it's pure stupidity or a brilliant idea, with the exact same lack of response?

Quincy:

Verbal aggression is always aggression, and when it isn't fueled by emotion but is instead calculated, it’s just plain old sadism.

Why do you assume your judgment is any less "clouded" than mine? Is it because some "guru" told you so, or because you're playing around with certain "spiritual rules" that supposedly transcend my "clouded" ones?

Quincy:

No, in this quote, Krishnamurti does a brilliant job of describing what meditation IS NOT. If you read your quote out of context, you might actually think he’s against meditation—which isn't the case at all. What meditation actually IS, he describes right here:

Unfortunately, it seems like you aren't quite grasping what Krishnamurti is getting at, because not a single part of his text stands in opposition to meditation. He’s simply posing some vital questions.

Even within the quote you provided, the same questions and conclusions remain:

Quincy:

It has no technique and therefore no authority. When you learn about yourself, watch yourself, watch the way you walk, how you eat, what you say, the gossip, the hate, the jealousy – if you are aware of all that in yourself, without any choice, that is part of meditation.

So, there is NO TECHNIQUE and NO AUTHORITY. Sitting in some specific posture and concentrating on whatever "technique" you're told to follow is still just a technique handed down to you by some authority figure.

That is exactly what I’ve been saying.

Quincy:

- It’s curious how all important meditation becomes, there’s no end to it nor is there a beginning to it.

So, if there is no beginning and no end... then what's the point of sitting in "cool" poses and trying to split yourself into a "controller" and the "controlled"?

Quincy:

Without laying the foundation of a righteous life, meditation becomes an escape and therefore has no value whatsoever.

From where I'm standing, everyone here is talking about sitting, shaving, concentration, techniques, being non-reactive, political correctness, authorities...

But nobody is talking about the "foundation of a good life," which is the absolute priority and a prerequisite for meditation. Without that, sitting and meditating is just a distraction—a way to delay actual change by creating the illusion that you're measuring your own progress or moving toward some goal.

Quincy:

Without knowing the activities of the self, meditation becomes sensuous excitement and therefore of very little significance.

Anyone who thinks they should react equally to every circumstance clearly has a major issue with self-knowledge. And anyone judging others' reactions is only proving they are unaware of their own reactive and judgmental nature. Therefore, meditating in that state serves very little purpose or benefit.

Do you actually understand what you quoted as a "counter-argument," or did you just get hung up on his poetic metaphors regarding meditation?

Quincy:

It is not an intellectual affair, but when the heart enters into the mind, the mind has quite a different quality; it is really, then, limitless, not only in its capacity to think,to act with precision, but also in the sense of existing within a massive expanse where you’re woven into the very fabric of everything.

So, look—meditation doesn't just shut the mind down. Instead, someone actually living a meditative life possesses "a different quality of mind"—that ability not just to think, but to "respond effectively" (meaning, we aren't tossing out "normal human reactivity" entirely).

Dammit... I honestly feel like you haven't grasped the core of this at all, moving far beyond just simple metaphors. You haven't caught my drift, and you haven't even caught the essence of your own Krishnamurti quote.

Honestly, given how much you seem to be misinterpreting what's being said, I don't really have the heart to keep this discussion going. It's pretty clear you're just reading what you want to see rather than what's actually on the page. Because of that, you're reading my posts through that same lens, which leads to these unnecessary reactions where you end up using my own arguments against me. While it was kind of cute in a way, it's getting tedious and you're mostly just undermining your own point. It's probably best if we just steer clear of these kinds of debates moving forward. 😉