On not knowing
The harder you try to figure, the bigger the questions get.
Today in our Without a Net Workshop our theme was No Thinking. To kick it off, our first exercise was the Headless Meditation made popular by the book On Having No Head, by Douglas Harding. Try it out if you haven’t. It’s a great way to pull yourself away from the discursive mind.
I give a little talk at the beginning of our gatherings, always relating our theme to creativity. This one was easy. Creativity is the arising of the vibrant, fresh aliveness of this moment, free of concepts or knowledge. Concepts my arise from it, but it starts from a blank slate. Or canvas.
In my painting classes I frequently say, “No thinking at Red Dot.” Luckily I teach a subject which requires you to shift away from your calculating mind and trust your intuition, then trust that the next paint stroke knows how to happen. You get to watch it arise, and then you express it. And then go to the next one. It’s as good as a sitting meditation, without all the work to “be present” and such. It makes you present.
We associate art with play, or recreation, or impracticality, partly because it can take you away from the land of knowing things.
In our workshop, our intention was to let go of trying get our feet under us to gain purchase (as in knowing something) so we can grasp security in something comfortable and familiar. Instead, we practiced accessing the freshness and awakeness when you let the next moment be totally new for you.
I heard Christopher Wallis say, “Everything you know up to now is deadwood.” It’s petrified mind matter. We want to let it go and take in the clear, new moment. And then release that, too.
When I think I know something, I know I need to go back back to square one. When I think I’ve progressed, or realized stuff, it’s time to beg for humility and start over. Because as soon as I feel like I’ve gained some wisdom status, that’s when it all starts to go south. I need to be wise enough to know that I don’t know.
Knowledge is helpful, when it is. But there’s no global knowledge that is covers everything except for non-conceptual knowledge—the kind that can open up when you make art or meditate or walk on a beautiful day, if you’re experiencing it.
A perfect bit of wisdom such as “Let go and let God” gets watered down and glazed over when it’s put on a metaphoric embroidered pillow. It turns into one of those “oh yeah, I already know that” bits of pith. If you homed in on that phrase with fresh eyes every time you heard it, you’d see a new universe open each time. You’re not the same person from day to day.
Each day, ask yourself, what does that saying mean now?
The Without a Net Cards are for just such a practice. Locking in on one meaning is (ahem) lazy and steals the purpose of them from you. If you soften into your own vulnerable openness, each new meaning shows you the ever-fresh nature of perception.
We have a yarn ball of concepts filling our brains, but all the while the true nature of our consciousness is as open as a child filled with wonder. If we can feel it, we get the added bonus of being old enough to feel childlike wonder AND know how precious and powerful it is.
It’s an advanced practice to be astonished by beauty and not to try to grab on and make it extra special. Adding on, “Aren’t I nifty? I’m filled with wonder” kind of ruins it.
We usually mix our observations of beauty and splendor with thoughts in the background that pack it in ice. Instead of eating a slice of warm baked bread right out of the oven, we stick it in the fridge, trying to keep it longer or save it for something. Overlayed thoughts takes away our glorious fresh bread every time, and maybe we haven’t tasted it in years.
Each project during our workshop was met with the intention that when our minds started making statements or proclamations, or believing something, we’d say, I don’t know.
Jerry Seinfeld said, in one of his Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee episodes, that we don’t need to know anything. If we need to know something, we can get that information at that time. But most of the time, we don’t need to know a darn thing. It’s funnier when he says it.
I left our group with a little reminder that the yarn ball of thoughts isn’t gone because we’re trying to be on good behavior. If thoughts won’t let go, we can acknowledge them and let them accompany us, hopefully walking a few steps behind instead of right in front, where they block our view and trip us up.
As usual, we all walked away lighter and clearer at the end of the workshop, and I for one am looking forward to next month’s gathering.
