Whose feeling is this?
At first, I believed “I’m feeling this”. When asked “whose feeling is this?” the mind answered, “obviously it’s mine — Whose else would it be!” That’s how it seemed. But as life has shown me time and time again, things are often not what they seem.
I started to notice that feelings had nothing to do with me. In actuality, the feeling arose of its own nature; I didn’t ask for it — it just arose. With deeper honesty, it was revealed that I actually never once asked for a feeling or made a feeling arise. Each time a feeling arises, it does so completely spontaneously.
Then, after the fact, a sneaky thought comes in and says “this is my feeling” and I believed that thought. Yet even the belief in the thought was not something conscious but rather unconscious. The belief in something is impersonal and based largely on environmental factors.
This whole time I was believing in empty claims of the mind. Why? Because I didn’t know any better and everyone around me seemed to believe them too. They were also convinced that they were the ones controlling thoughts and feelings. They also believed that thoughts and feelings belonged to them personally. Little did any of us know that things were not as they seemed.
Unverified Assumptions
To say “this feeling is mine” is an unverified assumption of the mind. When questioned, the mind would say “of course it is!” but soon I realised that this too was another unverified assumption. Was it really mine?
I play a fun game to explore this assumption. If this feeling is indeed mine, that is to say, it belongs to some central entity that controls it, then this entity should surely have an exact location. At first, this seems strange.
“Duh, the location is right here — this body.”
But is it? It can honestly be said that “there appears to be a body” but to say “this body is the entity called me to whom feelings and thoughts belong” is a massive leap of imagination.
I tried thinking about this in the past and it just didn’t work very well. However, what does work is to check via direct experience and attempt to actually locate the sense of “I”.
Not to imagine where it is. Not to believe a thought about where it is. But to directly look for that intimate sense of “I”.
One way to do this is to simply use the following question as a point of exploration:
Where is the one that claims “this is me”?
The body can be found. But even the thought “I’m a body” cannot be found. It can be imagined or remembered but not directly found. The sense of “I” has no location. This is not a matter of belief but rather, exploration. Whether it is believed or not is not relevant. Direct investigation reveals the truth.
If this entity is searched for, it can be rather rapidly and surprisingly discovered that no such entity exists. That is to say, the sense of “I” in actuality, has no location. It cannot be found because it isn’t bound by space.
This all sounds abstract at first because the information is being filtered through perception and perception is based on what is familiar; the past. It was very strange and unbelievable even to learn that I cannot find myself.
I can imagine. I can make something up. I can believe something. But upon direct examination, no entity can be found — time and time again I look and find nothing. This is hard for thoughts to grasp and yet in an instant, it can be noticed and directly experienced.
Thinking about something and experiencing it are two different realms. I can think about cooking and conceptually understand recipes but actually cooking a delicious meal is a whole other realm. The difficulty with the “sense of I” is that it can sound so abstract and mysterious. In actuality, it’s so intimate to all that it’s completely missed. It’s like looking through a green filter and being asked “what is the filter you are looking through?” to which the mind answers “what filter?”
The Power of Questions
One way to address these challenges is to use very simple questions like “Can you find the one that thinks they are a person?” or “If you aren’t that then what are you?”
The power of these questions lies not in the answer but rather, the dissolving of the sense that there is a question. When asked sincerely, openly, and willingly, the truth stands revealed free of confusion or doubt.
Asking questions in this way can be hard. It brings me face to face with all my positions and opinions. It brings me face to face with all the false identifications and the fear of losing what appears to be “myself”; the patterns of belief, thought, and feelings that have been so familiar for a long time.
Sometimes in an instant and other times slowly but surely, I notice that this fear passes as it is welcomed and what remains is the sincere willingness to see truth as it is — free of agenda, positions, wanting to be right, wanting to prove, or wanting to hold onto anything.
So I have learnt that the key to these questions is in the intervention behind the question. If the intention is pure, truth stands revealed. If not, it is clouded. There are still plenty of areas where the intention is yet to be completely purified. But overall, the momentum is very much in that direction and I am confident that through thick or thin, that pure willingness for only the truth will grow beyond imagining.
As the intention is purified, the effect of asking a question is magnified. This effect can be demonstrated with the familiar question:
“If a tree falls in the forest, but no one hears it, does it make a sound?”
The question points to a silent recognition. To then say “yes” or “no” is irrelevant and doesn’t change anything. It is meaningless to argue for or against anything in particular. The truth is silent and speaks for itself. It is either recognised or it is not. If it is, then it’s obvious that no answer is possible. If it isn’t, then the mind attempts to find “the right answer” and loops itself in endless concepts.
The sense of I is not a concept or a thought. It is prior to thought. Prior to any concept. Untainted by anything. Pure. It is what I is — grammatically incorrect but observably true.
The significance of this is that every feeling which was believed to be “mine” was in fact impersonal belonging to no one, in as much as no one can be found beyond the realms of imagination and memory.
Comparatively, a feeling is as impersonal as a passing cloud. No one chose that cloud, it just arose. It would be absurd to say “that is my cloud” and yet, it’s just as absurd to say “that is my feeling.”
Every feeling is completely spontaneous and thoughts of ownership arise only after the feeling has already arisen. The nature of feelings is an observable phenomenon shared across all of humanity.
Impersonal Feelings
The significance of this observation is that I don’t have to be guilty, judgemental, or ashamed about feeling something because it has nothing to do with my personal say in the matter. At the same time, I can choose how I respond to the feeling; whether I welcome it with open arms or judge it as bad and unwanted.
Seeing it as an impersonal phenomenon allows me to welcome it with open arms as it just seems silly to judge it or condemn myself for something that has nothing to do with me. It would sort of be like judging the wind for being too windy or blaming myself for a windy day.
Whilst it’s obvious that wind is an impersonal phenomenon, it is initially more difficult to see the impersonal nature of feelings. To the degree the thought “this is my feeling” is believed, perception is clouded and appears to reflect that feelings are personal.
This is due to the nature of perception. What is seen is filtered through belief systems. There is a big difference between how the world appears and how the world is. The antidote to “buying into” appearance is humility and sincere willingness to see things differently by virtue of understanding the limitations of human perception.
There have been many times where something appeared a certain way to my perception at the time and only later did I see that I was mistaken. Noticing this, it is rather obvious that there are probably many errors in my perception. This allows me to be open to making mistakes and becoming more aware.
As awareness deepens, it is discovered that life is rather simple when everything is impersonal. Things just happen as they do. But what I am is unchanged by that. Like the silent backdrop. The more I notice this, the more peace and calm is the primary colour of life. With deeper awareness, that peace deepens. As it deepens, that which isn’t peace becomes more and more obvious and the cost of hanging onto it feels like a greater burden than previously.
Who knew that a question had this much power. Well, not the question but rather, the intention of the one who asks. Who knew that I had the power to set free all disturbances to peace. What a pleasant surprise.
