Beautiful: how Joan Tollifson sees life, and us.

Having received Joan Tollifson's book, Nothing to Grasp, I wanted to share these passages from her opening chapter, "Life." The more I learn about how Toliffson views things, the more I like her perspective.

How do we make sense of all this? What's it all about? Is there any way out of our suffering or the world suffering, or any way to live through it without falling into destructive mind-states like despair, anger, hatred, and self-pity?

Like many others, I looked in different directions for answers to these questions. I tried alcohol and drugs, psychotherapy, political activism, meditation, satsang and radical nonduality. 

Finally I arrived at the place I had never left: the simplicity and immediacy of Here/Now -- this that is ever-present and utterly complete in spite of what happens in the movie of waking life and never because of what happens. 

I still experience moments of heartbreak and discouragement, bursts of anger, waves of depression or anxiety, and periodic flare-ups of addictive and compulsive behaviors. Perhaps these things happen less frequently, less severely, and for shorter duration, but they still happen. And the world at large is still full of suffering and injustice.

What does seem to have changed is that there has been a falling away of the thought-sense that I am a separate person in charge of "my life" who is going to eventually perfect myself or the world. 

There is the realization that life includes the whole show, the light and the dark, that none of it is personal, that all of it is happening effortlessly by itself in the only way possible, and that none of it has any solidity or permanence. 

There is also clarity about what the unnecessary exertion is that gives rise to so much of our human suffering and confusion, how we make ourselves miserable. As this has clarified, there has been a decrease in gullibility when the siren song of delusion appears.

When I find myself thinking that something is lacking or that the fix is "out there" somewhere, there is a greater ability to relax into Here/Now, the place I have never really left.

Instead of trying to intentionally fix or improve "myself" or "the world," I am more open to allowing everything to heal itself in its own way, in its own time, as it does anyway. There is a devotion to the immediacy of life exactly as it is right now, without superimposing any kind of spin.

This bare intimacy is neither an effortful, goal-oriented, improvement-seeking exertion, nor is it any kind of passive or fatalistic resignation. It is an energetic aliveness, an openness that includes everything and sticks to nothing.

It is not something "you" achieve or acquire, but simply the boundlessness, the bare being that is always already fully present right here, right now.

It is a great relief to realize that in this undivided happening, there is no perfection apart from the imperfection, that the light and the dark arise together like the crest and trough of the wave, that they cannot be pulled apart, and to appreciate the holiness of everything, exactly as it is, warts and all.

The firm conviction that I know what's best for the universe seems thankfully to be evaporating. And when it does show up, it has more of an endearing quality -- oh, look, there goes Joan doing her little dance of concern again.

I've discovered that there is no end to problems. When we cure one problem, a new one emerges. But this only becomes a source of suffering if we imagine it should or could be otherwise. In fact, the turbulent, cloudy weather is as integral to the whole as the clear, sunny weather. And it's all a matter of perspective and point of view what we consider sunny.

...The whole show is one seamless, ever-changing, ungraspable happening: subatomic particles waving in and out of existence, planets circling the sun, hurricanes sweeping across the ocean, birds migrating, ants building tunnels and hills, white blood cells battling an infection, humans clear-cutting a forest, building a meditation center, writing books, shopping for groceries, driving to work, falling in love, getting angry, waking, dreaming, daydreaming, waking up from daydreaming, thinking, remembering, imagining, hearing the traffic, reading these words.

Only when we think about this seamless flow and put it into words, does it apparently get broken up into subjects and objects, nouns and verbs, causes and effects, before and after, good and bad.

Only when we think, does there seem to be an unfolding narrative happening in time with "me" at the center of the story, an apparently separate unit of consciousness (a mind) encapsulated inside an apparently separate body, someone who must make something of myself, use my gifts to help the world, be a success, do the right thing, and perhaps get enlightened.

But if we look backward with awareness for the source of any impulse, thought, desire, intention, action or reaction that occurs, no point of origination can be located or found.

We have no idea what our next thought will be. Recent brain research indicates that by the time a thought such as, "I need to feed the cat," shows up in consciousness, the action this thought appears to initiate is in fact already underway in the body.

In the blink of an eye, the forms of this moment vanish into thin air, replaced instantly by an entirely new universe. When we look closely at any apparent form (a chair, a person, a thought, a feeling, a sensation), it's obvious that none of what appears has any substantial, persisting reality.

Everything is changing, dissolving into something else. It is all a shimmering, dream-like appearance, vanishing as soon as it appears. Everything is changing, and yet paradoxically Here/Now is ever-present.

...We typically imagine ourselves to be an enduring, independent entity with free will, a separate fragment apart from the whole, struggling to control our life and survive as this conceptual form called "me" that we think is real.

We fear death and hope that "my" consciousness and my story will continue on in some kind of hopefully pleasant after-life. But this picture of our situation is as ill-conceived as the one our ancestors had not that long ago when they feared they might fall off the edge of the earth if they sailed out into the ocean. 

When we truly see that there is no separate, independent, persisting form of any kind -- that no actual borders or seams exist between subject and object, self and not-self, birth and death -- that there is only this ever-changing, ever-present boundlessness -- then there is no body and no mind apart the totality.

Just as there is no edge to the earth, there is no independent or persisting someone who is born and who eventually dies. There is only this inexplicable thorough-going flux or boundless presence, just as it is, from which nothing stands apart -- vast emptiness flowering into this ever-changing appearance. 

 

Comments

[Appreciative Reader]

Wait, wait, wait. How is this not magical thinking? This:

“Instead of trying to intentionally fix or improve "myself" or "the world," I am more open to allowing everything to heal itself in its own way, in its own time, as it does anyway.”

The idea that the world --- whether one’s personal world, or the world at large (presumably meaning for humanity as a whole, not just the impersonal universe, because I don’t see there’s any sense in speaking of healing or not healing of the impersonal universe at large) --- necessarily “heals” itself “anyway”.

That’s by no means a given, surely? One’s personal world, if it needs healing, may well, instead, go from bad to worse, to completely catastrophic. Or the obverse. Or an unsatisfactory status quo may continue, neither worsening significantly nor improving either. I don’t see how one can imagine that “healing” will necessarily happen “anyway”!

And likewise the larger world, as it pertains to humanity. That too, might go down the route to complete destruction and all-round misery. Or not. Or something in between. Once again, I see no reason to imagine there’s going to be healing, particularly healing that happens “anyway”.

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“It is a great relief to realize that in this undivided happening, there is no perfection apart from the imperfection, that the light and the dark arise together like the crest and trough of the wave, that they cannot be pulled apart, and to appreciate the holiness of everything, exactly as it is, warts and all.

The firm conviction that I know what's best for the universe seems thankfully to be evaporating. And when it does show up, it has more of an endearing quality -- oh, look, there goes Joan doing her little dance of concern again.”

..........And in as much as that “relief” is predicated on wishful magical thinking, I think that relief is no more than the relief that the believer gets from believing in a paternal God figure that watches over us all and does what is best for us. This “relief” seems entirely misplaced --- even though relief per se might well be a good thing, no matter what, but leaving that aside.

Also, I’m afraid she’s engaging in a false dichotomy here. Sure, one may not know what’s “best”, either for oneself or for the larger humanity, for larger life. But that is not to say that one may not actually know what’s better. One well may. And one’s “concern”, if directed properly, might make for improvement, an improvement that will not be forthcoming if that effort doesn’t come about, which in turn won’t happen in the absence of that concern.

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Sorry to have to disagree again, Brian! But this seems distinctly off to me. Much though I’m enjoyed reading her “Outpourings”, generally speaking, and much though I appreciate her book reviews, and her general work as you’ve presented it here (including her website): but her core message --- and this does seem to be the heart, the core, of her philosophy --- seems completely off to me.

Am I reading any of this wrong, then? Or is it indeed she who’s mistaken?

[Ron E.]

I’ve started reading some of Jean Toliffson’s outpourings and am pleasantly surprised that what she talks about encapsulates in a non-dogmatic, simple and also non-mystical way much of the pointers that the meditative traditions of Zen, Chan, Advaita, Dzogchen, Taoism and non-duality in general try to convey.

Quite a few years ago, I began writing down my thoughts and impressions on my enquiry into the classic question of ‘who am I’. Over the years these have amounted to as much as three books worth of the stuff. Much of what I enquired into I found to be reflective of some of the above traditions, but although going on silent Chan/Zen retreats, I always remained on the periphery. Joan's writings, in the first few topics of her ‘outpouring’ I’ve read, reflects my own enquiry but in a much more concise and direct way.

I would say that, anyone who has been ‘through the mill’ of the classic search (with all its highs and lows) would probably recognise themselves and their ponderings in Joan’s writings and perhaps find themselves able to let the last few remnants of clinging to the various projected goals (whatever they may be) fall away to perhaps embrace who/what they are.

Admittedly, for a self that has such a strong investment in maintaining its assumed existence, to let go of a lifetime searching for verification and perhaps revelatory experiences can be a daunting notion. Maybe, as its influence begins to drop away, the real source of suffering may become evident allowing a healing from the ravages of a thought constructed self-structure.

[sant64]

"Intolerance is the natural concomitant of strong faith; tolerance only grows when faith loses certainty; certainty is murderous."

-- Will Durant, concluding comments on the Inquisition

"The idea of a former and a future life is essential to the real practice of Buddhism. You have to be scared of where you're going in the next to have the energy to overcome your deeper instincts. I call it the circuit breaker. Everything is interconnected. If you're endlessly interconnected, then every little thing counts."

-- Professor Robert Thurman (Uma's dad)

Which of them is correct? Is faith in a future life good or bad?

[umami]

I think of my own father, who considers himself an atheist and believes that in death there is only nothingness.

So it strikes me, belief in experience of any kind outside of material embodiment is the definition of religion.

As a definition is it fully comprehensive?

[umami]

I guess his way of thinking could be described as materialism or physicalism.

An objection might be that matter isn't a "thing." It's vibrations...or quantum potentials...or energies...or something along those lines, but it wouldn't change his mind.

[umami]

I picture myself imploring, wide-eyed and breathless, "Dad, don't you see? Matter isn't really matter, so we don't really live in bodies!" He'd look at me like I lost my mind. Ha! Fantasy conversation.

[umami]

Come to think of it, there is no here and now. No here because everything's in motion and no now because time is infinitely divisible.