Quest Magazine

Originally printed in the Winter 2012 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Boyd, Tim. "A Problem with Spirituality." Quest  100. 1 (Winter 2012): 10-11.

By Tim Boyd
National President 

Recently a group of us at the Olcott center got together to plan an eight-week program called "The Essentials of Spiritual Practice." The idea was that during the course of those weeks we would address the elements of a holistic and effective prac­tice, making the necessary links between practice and the principles that support it. Our hope was that regardless of whether individuals had been practicing for years or were just beginning, they would leave feel­ing empowered to more deeply pursue their chosen paths. In the process of talking it through, it became clear that some effort toward defining our terms was required.

In contemporary culture we find the word "spiri­tual" popping up with increasing frequency. It has become common for people to say, "I am spiritual, but not religious" as a way of identifying their approach to the divine. More and more we hear people referring to their "spiritual practice." Spiritual leaders also seem to abound. And we now find ourselves exposed to Bud­dhist, Hindu, Kabbalistic, Gnostic, Native American, Druid, Mayan, and a host of other forms of spiritual­ity. All these currents of things spiritual can easily get muddled. It's enough to confuse a person.

Although we get a sense that spirituality is about something like religion, for most people the meaning of the word is unclear. The ordinary view is that spiri­tual things are otherworldly, removed from what is regarded as the "real world." If we were to look in the dictionary, the various definitions might not be a great help to us. The dictionary defines "spiritual" as "incor­poreal," "affecting the soul of man," "pertaining to God," "sacred or religious," etc. While all of this gives some shades of meaning, it does not give us much to work with in terms of defining our own approach to spirit. One useful hint is found in the word's etymology. The root for the word "spirit" is spiritus, the Latin word for "breath." At the most basic physiological level the breath sustains life. In much religious sym­bolism it is the breath (spirit) that actually brings life into being. In the Bible God "breathed the breath of life" into Adam. In Hinduism universes are breathed out and breathed in.

A few years ago I had become a little frustrated with the slide in meaning for the word. I had the sense that it was being overused to the point that it was becoming meaningless, a mere buzzword. I thought I was jok­ing when I predicted that at this rate, soon "spiritual" would become a marketing term. There would be spiri­tual clothing, spiritual gym shoes, spiritual spas. A few months later I found myself driving through a neigh­borhood that I had not visited for a while. As I turned a corner I looked up at the sign for a local business and there it was in bold letters "Spiritual Boutique."

So what do I mean by "spiritual"? Let me begin with an example. In the human body there are an esti­mated 75-100 trillion cells. It is an astounding num­ber, beyond our comprehension. It is a number larger than the number of galaxies in the universe, and even greater than the amount of the U.S. national debt. The cell is the basic building block of all living organisms. From the perspective of biology, it is the smallest living thing. Although we think of these cells as being a part of that greater something we each call "me," to the individual cell that "me" is irrelevant. Each of these 100 trillion cells that make up our bod­ies has needs and activities of its own. The cell needs nutrition. It is looking to reproduce. It seeks an envi­ronment that will be hospitable to its growth. Whether I have a good day at work, or enjoy the movie I am watching, or am mad at my daughter is of little conse­quence to the cell.

 If somehow one of these cells began to sense that it was a part of something greater, and felt an urgency to connect with or more consciously participate in that greater something, that would be a cell with a dawning spiritual awareness. If the cell began to inquire into the workings of that greater something, this would be spiritual study. If from the information that the cell acquired, it developed a discipline that enhanced its awareness of the greater whole, this would be its spiri­tual practice. if the cell became aware of other cells who had this same awakening and who had pursued it to a point where they actually were in harmony with the energies and patterns of that greater some­thing—cells who could say, "I and the 'greater' are one" —those cells would be spiritual teachers. You get the idea. Unity is the basis of spirituality, and all move­ment in the direction of a deeper experience of one­ness can be called spiritual.

The cell example, although impossible, makes a point. We, like the cells, "live, move, and have our being" within a greater life. The various ways that we describe that life indicate both the extent and the limits of our perception. In Shakespeare's Hamlet the state­ment is made, "There are more things in heaven and earth...than are dreamt of in your philosophy." This applies as much to our individual musings as to con­temporary scientific opinion or the formulations of the world's religions. Each of these attempts at knowing has a certain merit to it, but is at best partial. It could not be any other way.

It is no far-fetched idea for any of us to say that we live within an ever-expanding hierarchy of these greater wholes. The most obvious of these "greaters" are the connections we have with blood family mem­bers, the tribe or community, the nation, and, more and more, the planet. As human beings we all recognize ourselves to be a part of the human family. For a long time this observation, although self-evident, could be ignored. The farthest we had to extend our sense of relationship was the local community, or maybe to our particular nation. We could feel sufficiently comfort­able to think and act locally, only occasionally look­ing up to focus on a broader network of relationships. However, circumstances are such today that an aware­ness of our intimate involvement in things greater than ourselves is imposing itself on us. We don't have much choice. We have to wake up.

There are a number of other "greaters" which are perhaps less obvious, but which powerfully influence us. One of the most overlooked, but perhaps most potent, world we live in is the world of thought—not just our own thoughts, but the environment created by the combined thinking of all  of the people in the world. On one level it seems far-fetched to consider the possibility of being influenced by the thoughts of  people we have never encountered, people who are not the leading thinkers, or movers and shakers on the world scene. If the president says something, it probably will affect us. If a famous scientist says something, we might consider it. Poets and artists can move us. But to believe that we are influenced by the countless name­less, faceless people like you and me thinking their pri­vate thoughts might seem like a stretch. Yet in the book Thought Power Annie Besant comments, "Most people think along certain lines, not because they have care­fully thought a question out and come to a conclusion, but because large numbers of people are thinking along those lines, and carry others with them." She goes on to point out, "There are also certain national ways of thinking, definite and deeply cut channels, resulting from the continual reproduction during centuries of similar thoughts, arising from the history, the strug­gles, the customs of a nation. These profoundly modify and color all minds born into the nation."

The necessary companion of a broadening spiritu­ality is a broadening level of responsibility—for our actions, our feelings, and our thoughts. As we unfold we lose the option of saying, "It's not my fault." One of the greatest messages of the founders of the Theo­sophical Society, which we find echoed in the global message of the Dalai Lama, is compassion. The Voice of the Silence says, "Compassion is no attribute. It is the Law of laws." With the growing awareness of the abiding presence of the One Life, our responsiveness to the needs and suffering of the myriad individual lives participating in the greater whole must also grow. Spirituality is not merely a balm for the individual soul or a feeling of peace and harmony, although certainly these are some of its by-products. Spirituality exceeds the individual. This is a problem, but only in the sense that was expressed in the Christian scriptures, "The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak." A sense of responsibility for the suffering of others, which is the hallmark of spirituality, is an uncomfortable mind-set for the immature personality, steeped as it is in self-admiration.

Fortunately, our level of control over this process is minimal. We are much like a gardener. Our role in all of this is not to manipulate the sunshine, or cause the sky to rain, but to nurture and provide the conditions for the seed to grow. As we wisely fulfill this role, within ourselves we witness the stirrings of new life. The seeds of compassion, kindness, and responsibility, which ultimately yield the fruits of the spiritual life, come alive and flourish. May this time soon arrive for all of us.

Printed in the Winter 2012 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Spangle, David. "Just Say No!" Quest  100. 1 (Winter 2012): 18-20.

by David Spangler

 This article is excerpted from the recently published Apprenticed to Spirit by the well-known spiritual teacher David Spangler. In it he discusses his twenty-seven-year relationship with an inner-plane entity, whom he describes as "a very wise, experienced, and very loving presence." At the outset the entity told him, "You may call me 'John.' It's not my name, as I do not have a name as you do, but I can see it's a name you like, so I'm happy to use it." Spangler also writes, "John often spoke of himself and his colleagues as a school on the inner [plane]." This passage offers some advice regarding relationships with inner-plane contacts. —Ed.

In beginning our work together, John said there was one basic rule he wanted to give me. It grew out of his perception of us as partners and out of his understanding of the role and relationship of a nonphysical being to a physical one. "In dealing with me," he said, "you can always say no." He went on to elaborate.

As a child of God, your freedom and sovereignty are vital. They cannot be infringed if we are to work together successfully. We must honor the sacredness in each other and the unique value each of us possesses, along with every other person and being. Therefore, if you have any question or concern about anything I might ask you to do or any suggestion I may make, you must say no. This is true for any inner being whom you may encounter, no matter how radiant or exalted it may seem. If you ever have any doubt or question, just say no.

This is very important. Along with love, it is the root of our relationship. You are not here to obey me, nor I you. We are here to collaborate together from our unique strengths. We are here to be partners. I take your willingness to cooperate for granted, but if I cannot also depend on your ability and willingness to stand in your own sovereignty, authority, and judgment and to make decisions for yourself, then our partnership will be impaired.

This may seem obvious. A relationship in which one party can never say no to the other is not a relationship at all but the domination of one person by another. But when it comes to relating to inner beings or spiritual teachers, relationships based on obedience are not at all uncommon. In fact, I've often found that there is an assumption that simply because it doesn't have a physical body, an inner being has access to divine wisdom and insight and therefore is an expert who should be listened to unquestioningly.

Once after a lecture a woman came up to me to ask my advice. "I'm in contact with inner beings," she said. "They're always giving me advice and information and telling me what to do. It's very confusing, and I don't know what I should be doing."

"That's simple," I said. "Just say no to them."

"Just say no? I can do that? No one's ever told me I could do that!"

This may seem silly, but I've run into this attitude frequently in my career as a spiritual teacher. Certainly among the metaphysical groups with which I was familiar in Phoenix in the early 1960s, establishing communication with nonphysical beings was considered a very desirable achievement; the idea of then saying no to what they had to say or treating them with anything other than reverence was practically unheard of.

This attitude has a long pedigree. From the oracles of ancient times to the spirit guides of modern spiritualism or the inner adepts of Theosophy, there has always been a sense that the inner worlds possess superior knowledge to what we can find here on earth and that we should relate to inner beings as teachers, guides, and experts.

This was definitely not John's point of view. He said at the beginning that he was not my teacher but a "colleague" and partner. At one point he said:

We who live in the higher vibrational worlds do not necessarily have superior knowledge than you. What we have is a different perspective, which may allow us to see further or more broadly and holistically than you. That perspective can certainly be valuable and helpful, particularly in knowing how an action or situation fits into a larger context. But our knowledge is not absolute nor is it always appropriate or accurate. Just as you may have trouble grasping conditions on the levels where I function, so I cannot always grasp conditions on your plane. This is why we collaborate and blend our insights and perspectives together.

At other times, he had other things to say on this matter.

The primary issue is not who has superior knowledge but who has responsibility and bears the consequences for decisions made and actions taken. Of equal importance is the right to learn and to grow. If you simply obey another, even if that other has greater wisdom and insight, you are not exercising the muscles of your own discernment and choice, from which your own wisdom and insights may come. Listen with respect and attention, yes. Obey, no. Make your own decisions.

The most important gift that a person has is his or her sovereignty. This is a gift, an anointing, from the sacred. To diminish or infringe upon another's sovereignty is to trespass on the most holy ground. You are not our children. You are our equals in the sight of God.

In all we do—we who serve the sacredness in you—our concern is to preserve the uniqueness, the integrity, and the will of those with whom we work. In our interactions, there can be no coercion or compulsion. The uniqueness and character of your will and your ability to make your own choices must be maintained and honored. Sovereignty should not be violated.

It is not our place on the inner to tell you what you must do. We are colleagues, not authorities. When you contact us, you are not enrolling in a military organization. We have no authority or right to compel obedience. No higher being will ever put your sovereignty or integrity in question or jeopardy. Should you ever encounter a presence that attempts to command you or abrogate your will, just say no and break the contact. Such a being is acting unwisely and against the principles that govern our interaction with your realm.

There are busybodies upon the inner planes as much as in your world. There are those who have a desire for control, not necessarily for what you would think of as evil purposes, but because of a lack of respect for you and to ensure that their vision of goodness is carried out. Such beings do not occupy the higher realms, however. If you keep yourself always aligned with the highest within you, if you honor and respect yourself, you will either not encounter them or you will dismiss them if you do.

Over the years, I've discovered that the power to say no enhances the capacity to say yes. Knowing that I'm under no obligation or pressure to agree or to obey, and that I'm respected by my inner contacts as a colleague, I have no resistance to their suggestions. I can evaluate them, and more often than not, I will accept because I have great respect for their wisdom and their caring. I feel empowered in this process. And it began with John's first lesson: Each of us has the right to just say no.

David Spangler is a visionary and spiritual teacher and is the author of several books, including The Call, Everyday Miracles, and Blessing. This excerpt is reprinted from his latest book, Apprenticed to Spirit: The Education of a Soul, by arrangement with Riverhead Books, a member of Penguin Group (USA), Inc. Copyright © 2011 by David Spangler.

Originally printed in the Winter 2012 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: The Bradenton Theosophical Study Center . "The Golden Stairs." Quest  100. 1 (Winter 2012): 33-35.

by The Bradenton Theosophical Study Center

The Bradenton, Florida, Theosophical Study Center received official certification in June 2010 with seven members. From top: Andre Clewell, Jeanette Rothberg, Judith Snow-Clewell (secretary), Navin Vibhakar, Gregoria Halley, and Rachel Garibay-Wynnberry. (Not pictured is JoAnn Nair.) This article is a collaborative effort on their part.

In 1888, H. P. Blavatsky presented members of the Esoteric Section of the Theosophical Society with a brief set of precepts for living the Theosophical life. She called the precepts The Golden Stairs, and she said that it was taken "from the letter of a Master." Later The Golden Stairs was published and made available to the general membership.

As part of our opening at every meeting, the Theosophical study group of Bradenton, Florida, recites The Golden Stairs aloud. In order to internalize these ethical principles, we dedicated two meetings to group meditation on the meaning of each step. We shared aloud our thoughts and recorded them audially; then we selected some of the more memorable ideas and spliced them together into the following testament of our group exercise. The members of our group, which formed two and a half years ago, thought other Theosophists would find our exercise interesting.

At first we focused on the title itself. We thought that stairs represent an archetype symbolizing movement to higher levels. And of course they are architectural features in homes and buildings to move people from one level to another. Ladders represent a similar symbol, although they don't give the same foundational support as do stairs. So in choosing stairs as her teaching device, Blavatsky suggests the importance of a strong foundation to our spiritual striving, in which one level builds on the level below it.

Stairs suggest aspiration. Many songs use stairs as an image to beautify, lift, and inspire, such as in the lyric, "Let's build a stairway to the stars," and the gospel song "Walk Dem Golden Stairs." Stairs suggest ascension to higher spiritual life, steps to enlightenment, the beauty of spirit reaching for more.

In The Golden Stairs HPB urges us to a spiritually oriented life. Of course we may not always be moving up our stairs. Occasionally we take some steps down, but at some point in our many lifetimes on this earth we make a decision to stay on course and continue the upward movement.

The color gold, used in describing the stairs, is associated with that precious metal. It is warm and comfortable, pure, beautiful, bright, light, and valuable. We associate it with the sun, that life-giving entity, our Solar Logos.

The first step up the Golden Stairs is to lead a clean life. This is a broad ethic which in a sense includes all the rest. We associate being clean with being free from dirt. We wash our physical bodies regularly by bathing, but physical purity also includes healthful foods as well as low alcohol and chemical consumption. We can also wash our emotional bodies regularly by maintaining a peaceful nature. We can maintain mental cleanliness by removing the clutter and negative thoughts from our minds and replacing these with the virtues of life, including truthfulness, kindliness, and love. Our lives should also be free of hypocrisy and double standards. Meditation and the evening review (a daily recapitulation of one's conduct) are techniques to assist us on this step, both of which help us make decisions based on the higher good for ourselves and others.

The next step is to have an open mind. The symbol of a funnel above our heads is appropriate here, "open at the top." Also the idiom "living outside of the box" could be applied. It is the idea that we are not closed in our thinking, locked into old values or old life scripts. We are open to alternatives. We are secure in the awareness that we don't have all the answers. We consider others' beliefs and other aspects, sift through them for common ideas, and consider if we want a shift in perspective or maybe see that we have it right already. An open mind is balanced and free from prejudice. We listen to another's point of view, willing to walk in their shoes and seeing different ideas with new eyes.

A pure heart is the stair step of love. It is living with right motivations, living more from the heart and intuition than from the mind. The heart of a person is that person's very essence. So in our emotions, thoughts, and actions we ask ourselves if we operating with pure motivations, true altruism, and agape, or if we are putting conditions on our giving. A pure heart involves listening to ourselves and being honest about our purposes and intentions. The quote from Abraham Lincoln's second inaugural address comes to mind: "With malice toward none, with charity for all..."

An eager intellect is a mind striving to know, to understand. It is a mind asking questions and seeking answers and willing to change attitudes. It is a mind searching for knowledge through reading, experiencing, and searching from various teachers, seeking insights in order to establish the code by which we live. It is a mind curious about the world, people, science, and religion. It is a mind seeking to discriminate between the real and unreal.

An unveiled spiritual perception involves understanding the causes of events. In Theosophy it is piercing through to the buddhic or intuitional level. The raja yoga method of concentration, meditation, and contemplation leads us to this soul level of comprehension, bringing realization of universal principles.

Brotherliness to all (as some versions read for this step) refers back to the great teaching that we are all differentiated from one Source; therefore we are all related and presumably will all go back to that Source. In all our actions we have to take this into account because in reality every action we take has an effect on everybody else. This is expressed well in the concept of karma. In life this brotherliness manifests as respect for one another even if we disagree, as kindness and fairness to all, as awareness of others' feelings, and as trying to be a blessing to all we meet.

Readiness to give and receive advice and instruction has two parts, giving and receiving. Both are important, and the critical point is how we give and receive advice and instruction and when. When we give it, we should do so carefully and cautiously, humbly, gently, but most importantly when asked. In receiving advice, an open mind would be an important quality, because anyone can be our teacher. In fact we are one another's teachers in life.

Courageous endurance of personal injustice requires one to consider that there are three possible reasons for what one conceives as an injustice. One is that it is the result of karma, which is balancing out from previous thoughts or actions. A second reason is that the injustice could be a test of one's physical, emotional, and mental equanimity. A third possibility is that one is making a mountain out of a molehill, in which case one's lower-ego touchiness and inferiority are on display. Since life is a school and we have lessons to learn, we can ask our higher Self, "What does this mean, why is this happening, what thoughts or beliefs are being triggered?" And we should do what we can to remedy the situation without harm to ourselves or others.

A brave declaration of principles and a valiant defense of those who are unjustly attacked are closely allied ethics. They are movingly represented in this saying attributed to the German pastor Martin Niemller in regard to the Nazis: "First they came for the communists, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a communist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I didn't speak out because I wasn't a Jew. Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak out for me."

If we have principles, we must do our best to defend them in regard to ourselves and others. In many instances, and in many countries, this can be very dangerous and may mean loss of occupation, life, and liberty.

A constant eye to the idea of human progression and perfection which the secret science depicts is living with a positive attitude. It is looking for the glass to be half-full rather than half-empty. Great progress has been made in the evolutionary development of humanity. Surrounding ourselves with books and magazine that acquaint us with human progress help us keep this positive attitude, which in itself contributes to positive human progress. There are many heroes and heroines in the world; there always have been and always will be, because human beings are guided by higher beings who have a peek at the Greater Plan. By daily meditation on the virtues, we attune to that Plan and help to manifest it on earth. Meditation also helps us live with joy and gratitude, thereby disseminating it to others.

These are the steps that lead to the Temple of Divine Wisdom, to the greater knowledge and wisdom held by the Source of which each of us is a spark. This doesn't mean that this wisdom is out there somewhere beyond our reach. It is wisdom to which we all awaken as we live according to the precepts of The Golden Stairs.

The Golden Stairs 

Behold the truth before you: a clean life, an open mind, a pure heart, an eager intellect, an unveiled spiritual perception, a brotherliness for one's co-disciple, a readiness to give and receive advice and instruction, a loyal sense of duty to the Teacher, a willing obedience to the behests of Truth, once we have placed our confidence in, and believe that Teacher to be in possession of it; a courageous endurance of personal injustice, a brave declaration of principles, a valiant defence of those who are unjustly attacked, and a constant eye to the ideal of human progression and perfection which the secret science (Gupta-Vidy?) depicts—these are the golden stairs up the steps of which the learner may climb to the Temple of Divine Wisdom.

—H.P. Blavatsky, Collected Writings, 12:503 (cf. 591).

Originally printed in the Winter 2012 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Tulku, Tarthang . "Making Mind the Matter." Quest  100. 1 (Winter 2012): 28-30, 40.

by Tarthang Tulku

As the members of our community go about their work, they try to keep the goal of understanding the teachings close to their hearts and minds. We are looking for ways to make the Dharma, the Buddha's teaching, relevant to our minds and to explore the activity of our minds in light of the Dharma.

Taking work as Dharma practice gives us the opportunity to investigate experience as it happens. What matters is learning to identify self and self-image in operation, always going on to ask another question instead of settling for a particular understanding. Here are some suggestions, based on my own observations, on ways to do this.

Examining the Senses. It may seem that our senses operate in a neutral way, but that is only because we have not learned to look closely. Just as science has learned to investigate in depth the atoms and molecules that make up matter, so we can learn to look at how we see and hear and feel and know. Rather than focusing on what appears to the senses, we can be aware of the activity of sensing, and of the way we react to what we sense.

There are many ways to conduct this inquiry. For instance, instead of focusing on objects, we can be aware of space as the background from which objects appear. Instead of accepting the way things are, we can determine how appearance develops through a series of transitions that unfold in time. Instead of accepting the identity of what is sensed, we can ask how our own reactions and sense of self-identity contribute to the feel and flavor of appearance.

The Changing River. Like a river, experience is never the same from one moment to the next, but we tend to ignore change and emphasize similarity. Insisting that the past has gone and the future has not yet come, we turn the present into something static: a fixed and rigid identity. To counter this tendency, we can focus in our experience on how things change from moment to moment. Right now I think I am the same person that I was last year or five minutes ago, but in fact the mind, feelings, and desires are constantly changing. Instead of insisting on sameness, can we simply appreciate the subtle differences?

We sometimes worry that we can't see the forest for the trees, but the opposite is also true: Once we have identified the forest, we find it hard to notice the twigs, the leaves, the branches, the birds, and the rustling underfoot. The Buddhist system known as Abhidharma offers the tools for analyzing subtle changes in the mind and learning to notice different levels of cognition and perception. Mantrayana teachings, which use the science of mantra to illuminate the path to enlightenment, and the samadhis, the body of knowledge that focuses on conduct, take this analysis to still more subtle levels. But daily experience can be a preparation for these more advanced approaches. Right now we can notice changes in experience and trace the consequences of such changes, and we can experiment with modifying or initiating changes on our own.

Beyond Samsaric (Delusory) Mind. Beginning meditators usually focus on calming the mind or simply observing experience. This is natural, since our thoughts and imagination give us so much trouble. But tending to mind and mental events the way a shepherd tends his sheep is inherently limiting. We may meditate in this way for years without a significant change in how mind operates. Ironically, the self that fixates on its mental projections knows little about how those projections arise and operate. When we always meditate in this way—in preventive mode—we cannot add to this store of knowledge.

Instead of staying focused on the content of illusion mind, we can investigate the body of mind. To really succeed at this means cultivating samadhi and prajña(transcendent awareness), but we can also conduct an initial and rewarding investigation in the midst of ordinary experience. All we need to do is learn to recognize our own projections and preconceptions in operation. Like a spider who gets caught in its own web, we are constantly getting trapped in structures that the mind sets up. If we can see this pattern in operation, we can become more aware of how the mind works, and this will make it easier to work with mind itself.

Multiple Experience. Whatever we experience, there is also the one who experiences and interprets. As we interpret, we are also offering a self-interpretation. Like our sensings, our interpretations go in two directions at once, and we can practice being aware of both at the same time.

We can also go further into the complications of mind. As mind projects outward, it is confirming preconceptions, adjusting its own role and activity, and assigning and refining meaning. In every moment of experience, it goes off in many directions, like a ray of light split into many colors by a prism. It is not easy to keep track of all this, but at least we can make a start. Sense experience is a good place to look, because it is so immediate. We can develop a sensitivity to the manifold directionality of experience that might otherwise be too complicated to observe.

Following Experience into Aliveness. Although investigating our own experience leads us into the realm of interpretation, it does not have to lead us away from the richness that experience holds. Interpretation is just another layer of experience, with its own aliveness. Similarly, minding, sensing, cognizing, and identifying are all richly alive, each in its own way. A sound is made and a meaning pronounced; self-image and identity emerge to name and define what has been experienced; the senses gather together to make more meanings. It is a mistake to think that all of this happens after experience has taken place. Instead, each of these steps is part of the living experience, available to inquiry.

If we let the aliveness of mind's interpretations and mindings guide us toward an understanding of how experience is identified and assigned significance, we can take a further step, noticing how mind's way of patterning repeats itself again and again. Different features appear, but the rhetoric of minding and sensing stays the same. Even in dreams, the rhythm of mind in operation is never once interrupted.

Staying with the Unknown. Like quicksilver, the mind is never at rest, and like quicksilver it slips away when we try to take hold of it or penetrate beneath its surface. Always sensing, always interpreting, mind goes its own way. It makes meaning even where there is no meaning. What resists being assigned meaning, what stays unknown, is dismissed as irrelevant and of no value.

One way to challenge these tendencies is to let the unknown stay unknown. At once certain aspects of experience become more accessible: balance and neutrality, being open, and allowing. Staying with the experience of not knowing allows us to ask questions that would otherwise be dismissed. For instance, does form arise from ignorance or from wisdom? The mind at once leaps in with an answer, but this is only at the level of stories. If we can let ourselves not know the answer, we can explore the question at a deeper level, asking within experience instead of taking a stand on experience. We can see how well we understand mind itself, and we can ask how mind relates to mind.

Intrinsic Certainty. As we go about minding our stories, what are we certain of? Can we investigate this question without depending on stories? Can we go to a depth of certainty deeper than any story, deeper than the conditions we set for understanding? These questions pose a challenge. As long as we rely on identification and interpretation we may not even be able to say what they mean. Still, once we discover a way to start looking, it does not matter where we head. Every direction leads us into the depth of mind.

Knowing Our Solidity. Beneath the particular story in effect right now, we rely on an identity that feels solid. We simply know we are one mind, one consciousness. If we can go to that level, where everything seems solid, the notions and assumptions we use to shape experience—our ordinary way of thinking—may look different. Even our ideas about awareness, mind, consciousness, and experience may present themselves differently, revealing other features of mind.

Caring Brings Understanding. To understand, we must care. When we care, we are not disturbed by the obstacles that arise on the path to understanding, and we easily overcome emotionality. The Dharma tells us that if we love and care for knowledge, then by taking the path of knowledge, we come to know how to love and care for ourselves. We take responsibility for what we can bring about in this life, and we set about eliminating confusion and other hindrances that prevent mind and self from functioning at their full potential.

This kind of caring does not depend on being ready to undertake serious study of the Dharma. It is enough to see that we are the cause of our own experience, for then we can look for ways to cultivate whatever is positive. If we make it our aim to contribute and to experience as fully as possible, we will inevitably realize that our own knowledge is not sufficient to guide us, and we will explore ways to improve it. If we feel some connection to the Dharma lineage, we may recognize that today there are fewer and fewer examples of individuals who manifest profound knowledge in their own lives. In our own small way, we may resolve to do what we can to become examples of knowledge and caring for our friends, through simple acts such as kind words and helping gestures.

Although it is hard to claim that we can manifest complete honesty and compassion toward ourselves and others, we can imitate the examples of those we admire and whose lives we study. Whether we call this working for the Dharma or working for ourselves, we live in a way that does not waste the opportunities we have been given. We shape our own karma.

Mind is always dealing with the matter at hand, the "stuff" out of which its stories are constructed. But mind matters more than the subject-matter of its stories. If we care about knowledge, we will see this, because real knowledge happens at a level different from the stories we tell. If we care about ourselves, we will tire of our suffering and realize through our inquiry that we could do it differently, that mind could wake up from the stories it tells and recognize them as fictions.

Mind is always asking, "What's the matter?" But if we let go of what matters to mind, if we let mind be what matters, we can release ourselves from the hold of what mind tells us matters most. In time, we may realize what is the matter with mind. If what matters to mind has never happened, the problems we take so seriously dissolve. The rules of the game display less gravity; the limits on the range of positions available to us fall away. We can tell the story of how mind manufactures reality, or the story of how we have arrived at realization. Either way, it doesn't matter.

Tarthang Tulku is a visionary Tibetan lama, born in Tibet and trained by the greatest teachers of the previous century. He has lived in the U.S. since 1969, learning how Westerners think and act and experimenting with ways to transmit the Buddha's teachings in a new world. He is the founder of the Tibetan Aid Project, the Nyingma Institute, the Odiyan Country Center, Dharma Publishing, and most recently the Mangalam Research Center for Buddhist Languages. His books include Time, Space, and Knowledge: A New Vision of Reality; Skillful Means: Gentle Ways to Successful Work; and Gesture of Balance: A Guide to Self-Healing and Meditation. This article is adapted from his book Milking the Painted Cow: The Creative Power of Mind and the Shape of Reality in Light of the Buddhist Tradition, copyright  © 2005 by Dharma Publishing. Reprinted with permission.