What Blocks You From Feeling Whole?
As individuals, we all either faintly or acutely feel a sense of separateness from the whole.
Maybe we know intuitively that our true nature is wholeness, so from very early in our lives we try, in various ways, to complete or fulfill ourselves in an attempt to reclaim that sense of wholeness that seems to be missing.
We imagine that once we find what we’re looking for, we will feel complete again. Since this is a largely unconscious process, we rarely question our premises.
The first premise is that we are incomplete. The second premise is that we can achieve completion through a movement in time, be it moving towards love, wealth, success, enlightenment, or anything else.
Are these premises actually true? Are we really incomplete?
As forms, as individuals, we are only parts of the whole, of something much larger, more vast and all-encompassing than us.
But it’s not as if the part can ever really be separate — because it’s part of the whole, just as the finger is part of the body. While it has its own unique shape and form, the finger is never truly apart from the body.
In the same way that finger is both finger and body, we are both part and whole.
The problem is that when our complete attention is focused on our part-hood, we lose sight of our wholeness. When all focus is on the part, we are only seeing part of the picture. Thus, the sense of lack, of incompleteness.
But since the first premise — that we are separate — is actually false, the second premise — that we can somehow manage to complete ourselves — is also false.
Completeness already is. It’s just that we don’t see it from our limited perspective.
What would happen if you stopped focusing on yourself, on getting, becoming and completing yourself?
What would happen if you dropped time?
It actually happens all the time. An amazing sunrise or sunset just stuns you into speechlessness, or you get a reprieve from your thought train on a run or on a walk in the forest. In such moments you’re stunned out of your small, limited perspective for a moment or a few, and you become aware of the wholeness that is always here, mostly untapped.
How much do you truly yearn for wholeness? So much that you’d be willing to let go of anything? — even the densest or subtlest of things that you consciously or unconsciously imagine would make you feel whole?
Would you be willing to let go even of your part-hood, of your very self?
If you were willing to, how would you even do this?
You’d have to spend more time as the essential Self. You’d have to start inquiring into that Self, by asking yourself who you really are beneath who you seem to be. A simple place to start is with the question, “Who am I?” I talk about this in my short blog post, “Who You’re Not.”
If asking that question isn’t your thing, no worries. All you really have to do in order to tap into who you are is, very simply, just sit without doing anything else. Sit there with what is. Just sit there and be.
Do this often enough and you will tap into the underlying Wholeness. Eventually, that “perspective” of wholeness and completeness will become your more dominant perspective, and there will be no need to scramble around trying to become complete. You’ll see the absurdity of having ever thought you were incomplete in the first place.
Not Simply Bodies
Spare yourself the painful
illusion of claiming this
body as yourself.
See the bottom-line truth of
who you (and others!) are.
Not simply bodies, but
the undivided Whole.
Focus more and more of your
time and attention on That
which is Real,
until you know without a doubt
that each form is Self.
Poem: from Notes to Self: Meditations on Being