An Accidental Awareness of SELF

It was June 2011 and there we were, trekking up high mountains with the teeming thousands - some of them barefoot - to the sources of the holy rivers of India. This was the Char Dam Yatra, ten days of spiritual questing, every meal potentially deadly, every bed with a threadbare mattress, no hope of a proper wash till we were done. As we climbed we carefully avoided the drunkenly careening and viciously beaten asses on the narrow, mountain passes.
Nandi, Kedanarth


Ten days it took us before we arrived back in Rishikesh, to the searing heat and regular power cuts.
The night we returned from pilgrimage I had the dream for the first time.
I had been left in the dark forest at night, in a box maybe, and the people who had left me there were walking away. I woke up, into our everyday reality, and was still this character from the dream. But I did not know who I was. I had no recollection of Niramisa either. Interestingly, there was no fear and eventually Niramisa drifted back and I remembered who I was again.
Next stop Vipassana meditation in Dharamkot, the little village above Dharamshala in Northern India where the Dalai Lama lives.


Vipassana meditation, as instructed by Goenka, is a 10 day silent retreat with no eye-contact or communication at all with other meditators. It is, to the mind, like a fast is to the body, a total detox of thought. It’s a wonderful practice and I thoroughly recommend it. 
For the first five nights I had exactly the same dream again, waking up out of the dream and finding myself to be completely conscious, yet with no idea of who I was. Each night the experience became progressively more intense and it took longer and longer to figure out who Niramisa was.
I would find my body standing in the middle of the small room with no notion of who or where I was at all. I did not know there were electric lights that I could turn on and bring light to the darkness. I did not know there were pieces of furniture around and I bruised myself banging into bed-side tables and sharp wooden corners of unfinished bed-frames.
One night I got down on the floor and started to feel around for something familiar. I found my trainers. At that point Niramisa came back.
Another night I realised there was something under my arm and I looked down and noticed in the dim light the soft and loving face of my dear elephant Eli. And Niramisa came back.


On the fifth night of this I looked out of the window and saw the meditation hall (the dhamma hall) lit up and all aglow with a white light. And I remembered who and where I was again.
There was never a moment of fear whilst Niramisa was not there. There was just quiet consciousness with no personality.
I was not aware of the significance of my experience and was, indeed, a little perplexed about it. I thought I would mention it to the meditation teacher.
“Oh we have these hallucinations from time to time”, she said.
I never had the dream again.
*  *  *
It was only by sharing this experience did I become aware of its importance. I realise now that I have been blessed with the experience of fearless pure consciousness, as it is, story-less.
Now, when I need to, I can go back to this inner awareness that has no worldly form, anytime I like. I thought this was pretty awesome alright until I realised, after sharing again, that perhaps I could explain what this quiet awareness is to other people.
The reason I think I might be able to explain it is because I have realised it is there all the time. Constantly. There is never a moment when it is not there. We do not notice it because of our stories and our need to label and evaluate our conscious, worldly experience. But it is always there, behind all that.
It is what I truly am. And it is what you truly are. It is the same in you as it is in me. It is pure consciousness and it’s very quiet and peaceful. My experience was not bells and whistles of Spirit, it was just quietly unusual until I’d figured out its meaning.
I would like to be able to explain it so you understand it too, because it’s actually so easy to see, and perhaps that’s why we miss it.
The more I share this experience, the more significant it becomes and the easier it is to describe. 

Whatever it is, there is no liar there at all.






Find out what the liar is here :  THE LIAR : Book : Forgiving The Unforgivable
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