Vinaire's Blog
.
Reference: Book III: What is the Mind Really?
Memory is the means by which data can be retrieved from the mental matrix—the thought environment that contains the accumulated data of the organism. This data first enters as sensation, forming the surface of the mental matrix. As sensations are assimilated, they become organized into progressively deeper layers: perceptions, concepts, knowledge, wisdom, and other increasingly integrated understandings.
A recalled memory may therefore contain elements from any of these layers. Perceptions are usually the most visible aspect of what comes up, while sensations are often less assimilated and may remain hidden beneath them. At the least-assimilated level, memory can appear as a literal recording of a past event. At the most-assimilated level, it may appear as understanding that is fully harmonious with the Universe.
The degree of assimilation determines the charge contained in memory. Here, charge refers to tension, anomaly, or disturbance. The less a sensation has been assimilated, the greater its charge is likely to be. As a lower layer assimilates into a higher layer, this charge is released. The purpose of recall, therefore, is not simply to revisit the past, but to support greater assimilation within the mental matrix.
Sometimes, the assimilation of very old sensations may bring up perceptions that seem connected with past lives. Other deeply unassimilated sensations may have been carried forward through an ancestral blueprint. In other cases, a recalled item may reveal no visible perception at all; it may present raw sensation, settled knowledge, or simply nothing noticeable. All such outcomes are valid.
This chapter offers an exercise adapted from 1951: Self Analysis for looking at whatever memory arises in response to each item. Let the memory appear on its own. Do not search, force, or dig into the mind for an answer. The exercise may be repeated, since one run may assimilate some sensations and allow different perceptions to become visible in a later run.
Can you recall a time when:
1. You were happy.
2. You had just finished constructing something.
3. Life was cheerful.
4. Somebody had given you something.
5. You ate something good.
6. You had a friend.
7. You felt energetic.
8. Somebody was waiting for you.
9. You drove fast.
10. You saw something you liked.
11. You acquired something good.
12. You threw away something bad.
13. You kissed somebody you liked.
14. You laughed at a joke.
15. You received money.
16. You felt young.
17. You liked life.
18. You played a game.
19. You bested something dangerous.
20. You acquired an animal.
21. Somebody thought you were important.
22. You enjoyed a good loaf.
23. You chased something bad.
24. You were enthusiastic.
25. You enjoyed life.
26. You went fast.
27. You owned something.
28. You felt strong.
29. Somebody departed.
30. Somebody helped you.
31. You gathered something good.
32. You measured something.
33. You took a pleasant journey.
34. You turned on a light.
35. You heard some good music.
36. You controlled something.
37. You destroyed something.
38. You mastered something.
39. You were lucky.
40. You felt peaceful.
41. You saw a pretty scene.
42. You poured something good.
43. You acquired something that was scarce.
44. You made an enemy scream.
45. You had a pleasant seat.
46. You handled something well. (actual physical handling)
47. You moved something.
48. You watched something fast.
49. You were together with friends.
50. You occupied a good space.
51. Somebody loved you.
52. You enjoyed somebody.
53. You invented something.
54. You harnessed some energy.
55. You killed a bug.
56. You pocketed something.
57. You made progress.
58. You walked.
59. You saved something.
60. You stopped a machine.
61. You started a machine.
62. You had a good sleep.
63. You stopped a thief.
64. You stood under something.
65. You started a fire.
66. You went upstairs.
67. You were warm.
68. You went riding.
69. You were adroit.
70. You swam.
71. You stood your ground.
72. You lived well.
73. You were respected.
74. You won a race.
75. You ate well.
.
.
Reference: Book III: What is the Mind Really?
Attention is extroverted when it is free, directed outward, and under one’s control. When it becomes absorbed in doubts, confusions, and inner disturbances, it is introverted.
A person is fundamentally awareness. Confusion arises when awareness identifies with mental contents—such as thoughts, emotions, problems, or fixed ideas—and becomes entangled in them. The first step in addressing this identification is to regain some control over attention.
The exercises in this chapter develop that control by directing attention deliberately toward the present environment: objects, sensations, distances, and directions. You do this exercise using the laws of looking. You do not avoid, resist, suppress, deny or interfere with the activity of the mind. Let the mind carry out its natural functions. You simply observe what it manifests.
You may do these exercises yourself, or have somebody help you do them. These exercises are very simple, obvious in what they do, and very logical. Just do what it says exactly.
NOTE: A person, who is afflicted by neurosis or psychosis, shall definitely need assistance in doing this exercise. He or she should be assisted with considerable gentleness and patience.
The sense of touch, when exercised, can bring considerable relief even to a person who is completely disconnected with reality. Do these exercises for 20 minutes, twice a day, for two weeks at least.
.
Touch
Sight
Hearing, Smell & Taste
STEPS FOR ASSISTED VERSION
.
STEPS
STEPS FOR ASSISTED VERSION
.
.
Reference: Book III: What is the Mind Really?
In this chapter you practice the Laws of Looking. Before starting this exercise, address any medical condition appropriately. Make sure the body is well-rested, well-fed and free of stimulants; and the environment is safe and free of disturbance.
The laws of looking are practiced while doing the exercise from Chapter 5: Be There and Confront.
You may do this exercise while sipping coffee in a café or strolling along a river. You may even find a place where you can sit comfortably for a while without being disturbed. Then patiently observe the world go by.
The Laws of Looking are listed below. You do not have to do anything more than becoming aware of how each of these laws are operating in your case. The awareness of the laws reduces their undue influence on observations.
Practice one law in each sessions of 20 minutes. You practice until these laws become part of your second nature.
.
The deepest understanding of God need not begin with an image of a supreme person, a distant ruler, or even a maker standing apart from creation. It may begin instead with oneness: the fundamental impulse by which all that exists moves toward coherence, relationship, integration, and harmony. In this view, God is not merely one being among other beings, but the living principle through which apparent divisions are continually drawn toward wholeness.
Everywhere in the universe, one can observe a movement from separation toward connection. Particles join to form atoms; atoms combine into molecules; molecules organize into cells; cells cooperate as organisms; individual people create families, communities, languages, and civilizations. These developments suggest a primary impulse toward oneness: the bringing together of what is scattered into patterns that can endure.
For example, a pile of loose bricks has no larger function by itself. When the bricks are arranged in relation to one another, they can become a home, a school, or a bridge. The same material is present, but order gives it a new meaning and capacity. In a similar way, the impulse of oneness brings diverse elements into relationships that produce greater harmony.
God, understood as oneness, is therefore not simply an object to be imagined. God is the deepest direction of reality: the movement toward coherence in matter, energy, life, thought, and consciousness.
The universe appears to contain both order and chaos. Chaos may be understood as whatever is disconnected, conflicting, confusing, or unresolved. Order is not the elimination of diversity; it is diversity arranged so that its parts work together.
A storm, for instance, may seem chaotic from the ground. Yet it follows patterns of pressure, temperature, moisture, and motion. Likewise, a person’s troubled emotions may feel like inner chaos, but careful reflection can reveal their causes: fear, loss, unmet needs, conflicting beliefs, or misunderstood experiences. Once these elements are recognized and related properly, confusion begins to become understanding.
The impulse of oneness works by transforming disorder into greater order. A scientist who discovers a law of nature, a teacher who clarifies a difficult idea, and a mediator who helps two people understand one another are all participating in this movement. They take what is scattered or contradictory and help it become intelligible.
There will always be chaos to convert into order because reality is not static. New situations arise, old arrangements break down, knowledge expands, and life continually presents unfamiliar conditions. Chaos is not necessarily evil; it can be the raw material of a higher harmony.
Consider a child learning to read. At first, written marks may appear as meaningless shapes. The child experiences confusion because the letters, sounds, words, and meanings have not yet been integrated. Through learning, those separate elements become ordered. Eventually, the child can read a sentence, understand an argument, and enter the world of literature. The original confusion was not pointless; it was the starting point of a greater capacity.
In the same way, social problems, personal conflicts, and unanswered questions indicate areas where greater understanding is needed. The presence of chaos calls forth the work of consciousness: to observe carefully, identify what does not fit, and discover a more harmonious order.
Understanding God as oneness is not only an abstract theory. It can become a spiritual realization in the present moment. Such realization occurs when a person sees beyond immediate separations and recognizes a deeper continuity between self, others, nature, and the universe.
For example, a person may be angry with someone who has acted unfairly. At first, the other person may seem entirely separate: an enemy, an obstacle, or a source of pain. But deeper reflection may reveal that both people are affected by fear, misunderstanding, history, and unmet needs. This does not excuse harmful behavior, but it changes the viewpoint. One begins to seek a resolution that restores truth and relationship rather than merely defeating an opponent.
This is a spiritual realization because it restores awareness of the whole. It is not escape from life. Rather, it gives one a clearer way to engage life. The person begins to ask: What would bring greater understanding here? What would resolve this conflict without denying reality? What is the larger harmony trying to emerge?
Once oneness is recognized as the fundamental direction of existence, it becomes a viewpoint from which the rest of life may be sorted out. Experiences can be examined according to whether they increase harmony or deepen fragmentation.
This does not mean that everything pleasant is good or everything difficult is bad. A painful truth may create temporary disturbance while leading to a more lasting order. For instance, a doctor may diagnose a serious illness. The diagnosis can be frightening, yet it is a movement from uncertainty toward clarity. Without it, effective treatment may not be possible.
Similarly, honest self-examination may initially reveal uncomfortable contradictions. A person may discover that their actions do not match their values, or that a cherished belief does not explain all the facts. Such discoveries can feel destabilizing, but they make deeper integrity possible. The viewpoint of oneness helps a person remain open to correction because correction is not a personal defeat; it is a step toward greater coherence.
Humanity’s past spiritual development has helped bring us to this realization. Religions, philosophies, myths, ethical traditions, and contemplative practices have all attempted to express humanity’s awareness of a reality greater than isolated self-interest. They have taught reverence, compassion, discipline, responsibility, and the search for truth.
The idea of God as Creator, for example, has helped many people recognize that the universe is meaningful rather than accidental or empty. It can inspire gratitude for life and humility before a reality larger than human preference. The image of creation also encourages care: if the world is valuable, it should not be treated merely as material for exploitation.
Past knowledge need not be rejected simply because it can be improved. A map drawn centuries ago may be incomplete, but it can still represent a sincere effort to understand the world. Later maps may correct coastlines, add continents, and improve measurements; they do not make the earlier map meaningless. They reveal a continuing process of refinement.
Understanding God as oneness may be an improvement over understanding God solely as Creator. “Creator” points to an act or role. It may lead the mind to picture God as an individual identity separate from the universe, like an artisan standing outside an object that has been made.
Yet God, if truly ultimate, cannot be limited to any identity, role, image, or concept. An identity distinguishes one thing from another: teacher, parent, artist, ruler, creator. These identities may describe important functions, but none can exhaust what is ultimate. To confine God to the identity of Creator may be like confusing the ocean with one of its waves.
Oneness is broader. It includes creation, but it also includes preservation, transformation, dissolution, renewal, understanding, relationship, and the continual movement from incoherence toward harmony. It does not deny that the universe emerges and develops; rather, it sees creation as one expression of a more fundamental reality.
A composer creates a symphony, but the meaning of music is not exhausted by the moment of composition. Music also exists in performance, listening, interpretation, revision, and the unity of many notes into one living whole. Likewise, God as oneness includes the creative process but is not restricted to the title of Creator.
Human understanding of God will continue to improve because human awareness continues to develop. Each generation inherits language, spiritual insight, science, philosophy, and moral experience from those before it. It then faces new questions and must express enduring truths in ways that meet its own conditions.
This development should be approached with both humility and courage. Humility reminds us that no single formulation can fully contain the infinite. Courage allows us to revise inadequate ideas when deeper understanding becomes possible. A mature spirituality does not cling blindly to old words, nor does it discard them carelessly. It seeks the truth they were attempting to express.
The understanding of God as oneness invites this continuing search. It suggests that the divine is present wherever division is healed, confusion is clarified, conflict is transformed, and separate elements find their proper relationship within a greater whole. This idea closely fits the larger framework of the mind as an awareness that identifies anomalies and resolves them toward harmony.[^1_1]
God, then, may be understood not as a limited identity but as the deepest impulse of reality: the ever-present movement through which chaos becomes order, separation becomes relationship, and consciousness awakens to the unity that has been present all along.
⁂
Reference: Book III: What is the Mind Really?
Looking is more than directing one’s eyes toward an object. The formula for genuine looking is: Be there and confront. To look is to place one’s attention fully on what is present and to remain with it without retreating into distraction, avoidance, explanation, or fear.
“Be there and confront” describes two inseparable actions. First, one must be present; then one must be willing to face what is present exactly as it is.
A person may glance at something without truly looking at it. They may see a chair, for example, and immediately label it “old,” “ugly,” “expensive,” or “mine.” In that instant, attention shifts from the chair itself to remembered associations, judgments, and personal meanings. The person is no longer looking directly. They are looking through layers of thought.
To look is to let the object reveal itself before one decides what it means. It is an act of observation prior to interpretation.
To be there means to have one’s attention gathered, steady, and in total harmony with what one is observing. Attention is not divided between the object and unrelated concerns. It is not half on the chair and half on tomorrow’s schedule, a past argument, or the desire to reach a conclusion.
Imagine entering a quiet room. You may be physically inside it while your mind is elsewhere. You notice only that it is “a room,” then continue thinking about a problem at work. In this condition, you are not there.
But if you pause and place your attention in the room, details begin to appear: the arrangement of furniture, the quality of light, faint sounds, the temperature, signs of use, and perhaps an object that does not belong. The room becomes more fully present because your attention has become present.
Being there does not require strain. It is not staring, forcing, or trying to produce an insight. It is simply the absence of wandering attention.
To confront means not to flinch, move away, suppress, rationalize, or avoid. It means allowing attention to remain on the object, even when what is seen is unpleasant, confusing, painful, or contrary to one’s beliefs.
Confronting does not mean attacking an object or treating it as an enemy. It means facing it. One permits it to be known.
For example, a person may notice a crack in the foundation of a house. If they are unwilling to confront it, they may say, “It is probably nothing,” refuse to inspect it, or become busy with less important repairs. The crack remains, but now it is accompanied by avoidance. The problem has not been understood; it has merely been pushed out of awareness.
To confront the crack is to examine it: How large is it? Has it widened? What may have caused it? What action is needed? Clear observation becomes possible only when avoidance ends.
The principle applies to ordinary physical objects. One can look at a chair, a room, a wound, a sick person, blood, or an accident. The object may be simple or disturbing, but the formula remains the same: be there and confront.
A doctor who sees only a diagnosis may miss the actual condition of the patient. A doctor who is there and confronts observes carefully: the person’s breathing, color, posture, speech, pain, history, and changes over time. The diagnostic label can be useful, but it must not replace observation.
Looking at blood may provoke an immediate recoil. That reaction is understandable, especially when blood signals injury or danger. But if someone must help, they need to regain presence. They must look at where the blood is coming from, how much there is, whether the person is conscious, and what care is urgently required. In such a moment, clear looking can make practical action possible.
In this exercise you are being there and confronting physical objects:
The same formula applies to mental objects: thoughts, feelings, emotions, anxiety, dread, resentment, shame, and desire. These are also objects of observation, even though they are not physical things one can hold in the hand.
When anxiety arises, people often try to escape it immediately. They may distract themselves with entertainment, overwork, food, substances, argument, or constant activity. Such actions may provide temporary relief, but they do not necessarily reveal what anxiety consists of.
To be there with anxiety is to notice its actual form. Is it a tightness in the chest? A restless impulse to act? A stream of catastrophic images? A fear of failure? An unexamined demand for certainty? The more precisely one looks, the less anxiety remains a vague and overpowering cloud.
To confront anxiety is not to approve of it or surrender to it. It is to refuse to run away from the fact that it is present. One can say inwardly: “Anxiety is here. Let me see what it is made of.” This opens the possibility of discovering the assumptions, memories, conflicts, or circumstances that sustain it.
In this exercise ou are being there and confronting mental objects:
It takes looking to discover what is truly there. Before looking, a person may have only assumptions, labels, memories, fears, and conditioned responses. These may contain some truth, but they are not the same as direct observation.
A child may hear that a dog is dangerous and become afraid of all dogs. Later, when encountering a calm dog, the child may respond not to the animal before them but to a conditioned image of danger. To be there and confront means observing the dog: its posture, movement, sounds, behavior, and the circumstances of the encounter.
This does not mean ignoring genuine danger. Clear looking is not foolishness. It distinguishes actual danger from imagined danger, and it permits an appropriate response in either case.
In the same way, a person may believe, “I am always angry,” or “I am a failure.” These statements can become fixed identities. But careful looking may show that anger appears under certain conditions, or that the sense of failure is tied to one event, one comparison, or one unmet expectation. What seemed absolute becomes specific, observable, and open to understanding.
When people cannot look, they are easily wrapped in delusions produced by belief and conditioning. Belief supplies ready-made conclusions; conditioning supplies automatic reactions. Together, they can prevent a person from seeing what is directly before them.
⁂