Creating the Path (Q & A)

So, anyone, please.

Q1: differences between objects when practising seeing divinity in all forms; beginning to work with the sexual erotic-imaginal

Yogi: Rob, I have two questions.

Rob: Okey-doke.

Yogi: One actually you spoke about in the talk yesterday night, but it was very brief. I was just wondering whether you could say anything more. I've been wondering about seeing the divine in different forms or shapes, and you know, seeing Tārā in an apple tree is somehow easier than seeing her in a piece of plastic. I understand that in the end we could possibly see the divine in all forms, all shapes. My mind somehow makes distinctions, and I think it makes a difference whether I meditate on Tārā or Mickey Mouse. [laughter]

Rob: It might make a difference. I don't know. [laughter]

Yogi: What is it in forms that makes them more [inaudible] or conveys more?

Rob: Yeah, yeah. The Mickey Mouse one is the next retreat. [laughter] That's the more advanced level. [laughter] Yeah, this is really good. It depends. You're going to get different answers from different people, okay? And this is one of those areas where I can say I have a sort of (whatever you might call) philosophical leaning, but you're going to hear very different things.

On one extreme, you'll hear it kind of gives a realism to these deity figures: Tārā is this, and she really has these particular qualities, and even she looks like this. As I think I said in one talk, it's like what's really happening there is these things exist in an imaginal realm which has some kind of objective existence, but which has been dismissed from Western culture for centuries, but actually it does exist in this realm. What you're doing is then, if your perception is 'pure,' so to speak, you resonate with or you perceive those qualities, and they have power. They have a divine power. So that's one kind of version.

To me, there's a lot of beauty in that. Like I think I said at some point, I find it hard now, where I am in my whole practice and everything, to take any kind of realist metaphysics seriously, whether it's a materialist one or some other kind of thing. So my tendency is more to say: your perception, your way of looking, your mind is, in a way, creating that divine with certain characteristics, and that's what comes through. Now, for different reasons, because of the cultural associations with Mickey Mouse, it's harder to do that.

So there are two different extremes. And then there's also a bridge in between these two, which I think I mentioned at some point. If the roots of your mind, your consciousness, your citta, your soul, your imagination, are divine, then what comes out of your creativity of perception is also divine. So there's not an "it exists over there, separate from me," or "it's just any old perception." Do you see what the bridge is? It's saying, in a way, that the imaginal realm is not separate from your mind. The roots of the imaginal realm and the roots of your mind have the same roots in the depths of the divine, so that your mind and the fabrications of your mind can also be divine.

You said it somehow seems more or less divine at different times. Maybe that's true. Maybe it has to do with partly what's present in the citta at a certain time -- if you like, the purity or the devotion as we've talked about, the openness of heart. Partly it's what your mind colours like that creatively. So do you see how that might bridge those two? Does this make any sense at all?

Yogi: Isn't there anything in the shapes, or in the tunes of certain music, or certain words in poetry, that somehow they convey more?

Rob: Well, they do, but if you know about art theory and literary theory as well, most people would not, nowadays, or for quite a while now, the idea that it inherently resides in the art, you know ... One of the big chunks we edited out of the talk on "The Art of Perception" was about the dependent arising of art. My reaction or my being moved by art is something in the work, something in me at that moment -- Beethoven's Ninth Symphony moves me to tears one day, and the other day it's like, "Eh." [laughter] There's something in the present. But there's also something in the culture. There's something about Beethoven, and the image, and what he might have said about it, and what someone else might have said about it, some other authority, in the general culture. All this feeds in to give a dependent arising of what arises. To say there's nothing in the art, in the art object, would also be -- to me, that's too extreme.^[1]

Yogi: What is it ...

Rob: What is it that gives that ...?

Yogi: Yeah.

Rob: I find myself being able to give many answers. Why are you asking? What's with the question?

Yogi: Why don't I see it in certain objects?

Rob: Yeah, okay. So seeing Tārā in a piece of litter is possible; it's just a matter of practice, actually. I was practising with this, and it's like it's harder for me with plane sounds overhead -- not because they're a particularly ugly sound, but I just couldn't help thinking about the carbon dioxide. It was like, "Ahh!" Everything else was beautiful, you know, this particular divinity, this particular character of a divinity, and it wasn't stretching to that. But then I would just experiment. And it's like, "Oh, is it dependent on pleasant or unpleasant?" So, you know, if I was walking outside and it was too cold, then it's harder. But that's all just practice. You can play with this. You have that sense, you're meditating in this case on Tārā, and then you open your eyes and look around you, in your room or wherever you are. At first you might notice it's easier with this beautiful artefact or whatever, and then I look at the plastic something-or-other, and it's harder. But really, in time, with practice, it can go everywhere. Is that related to what you're asking, or that's not quite what you're asking?

Yogi: I just think there's a difference between different objects.

Rob: Yeah, well, there is. I wouldn't deny that. Absolutely there is. And it also applies ethically. People have been writing notes: "How can you say everything's perfect when there's terrorism?" So yeah, of course, of course. All I would say is that, with practice, that ability to see different kinds of divinity spreads. Now, that doesn't mean that -- you know, as Andy asked the other day -- we don't care about climate change, or we don't do everything we can to address terrorism, including the effects of what we do to feed that terrorism inadvertently. But there are different kinds of divinity that can be still perceived there with practice. But yeah, they're different. What it is, I'm not sure I could say. I don't know, or rather, I'd hesitate to say. I'd hesitate to say, yeah. You had another question?

Yogi: The second question is about the meditation this afternoon, which I found really beautiful, especially the breathing with the beloved. Then you mentioned the possibility it could become sexual. I just noticed at some point, "Okay, now that's just sexual pleasure." [inaudible] But then I backed off.

Rob: So then the question is like, again, what makes something imaginal is a sense of sacredness in it. That's, to me, just part of how we're defining 'imaginal.' It has some sense of divinity. Partly what I want to say about that is the divinity is not separate from the sensuality. That doesn't necessarily mean sexuality. But it's wrapped up in, it's not something separate from the appearance or the sensuality or the sensual connection with that. That's one thing. Second thing about the divinity is it can have an enormous range. I think we said in the talk, we tend to think, "Oh, well, only if sexuality is like this kind." Maybe it's all about merging in kind of lovey-dovey erotic -- you know, great. But there are other kinds of sexuality. One can discover a different style of divinity in those kinds. If it feels like you're practising and actually what's happening is a contraction, or something closing down, or something shutting off from the divine, then leave it. This is difficult, because this is a stretch for most people in this tradition. This is a stretch, because we tend to just ignore sexuality, or notice it, breathe ... [laughter] It's not really included much. And what we're interested in doing, one way of summing up how we conceive this retreat is in the context of expanding the sense of the sacred. Why is it only here and not here? Why is that included and not that?

And this has come up in Q & As before. That includes things that traditional Buddhism would call kilesas, defilements, impurities, etc. In other kinds of Buddhism, that's expanded to. Now, you can just call it that, and actually be just involved in greed, but this is why I go back to feel in, feel the energy body, feel what's happening in the soul-resonance. If there's beauty there, if there's sacredness there, if there's mindfulness there, which means sensitivity to all this and all the emotions and the body and the energy, you can trust it. I was talking to someone this morning -- what was it Jesus said? "By their fruits you shall know them." The fruits you can actually feel in the moment in these practices. It's not like it's going to feel really sacred and then you get up from the meditation and you turn into an ogre. It's not going to work that way. You can trust it in the moment.

Now, I know because sexuality is -- we get confused messages in the bigger culture; in the Dharma culture it tends not to be included so much, not so integrated; there are all kinds of histories we have personally with that, it can be loaded for people to even think about allowing themselves to approach. You don't have to push anything. If and when you feel a little bit ready, you might see. I could say much more, but maybe that's good. Yeah? Okay. Good.

Julia? Go ahead. [13:24]

Q2: what is cosmopoesis; retaining particularities instead of merging towards oneness; can undifferentiated oneness lead into a particular cosmopoesis

Yogi: I'm a little confused about this cosmopoesis. This afternoon, I've had some really blissful experiences in the garden, almost ecstatic sense of nature being in me ...

Rob: Nature being in you and you in nature? Yeah.

Yogi: Almost my body coming apart and just becoming part of nature. They're very nice experiences, but I'm not sure what the cosmopoesis is. Does this mean a sense of prayer with it, something sacred there? I don't understand the things that have been said about spilling over and enchanting the cosmos. I don't really understand.

Rob: Okay, yeah, thank you. So what do we mean when we say 'cosmopoesis,' basically. Let's say this, if we just step back and put it in contrast to a few different things. There's just imaginal work: here's this imaginal figure, and I'm maybe with my eyes shut or my eyes open, but I'm relating to that imaginal figure and different feelings and energies in relation. So that's just imaginal practice. And then sometimes what happens is the actual key, the thing that probably often makes a difference for an imaginal figure to then spill over into affecting the perception of the world -- so in other words, in our culture, you know, there's a certain accepted cosmology. It's just, "This is what the world is. This is what matter is. This is where we are." Cosmopoesis means that, through the creativity of the imaginal perception, we can see the world differently. It's a different kind of cosmos -- a world of light, or a world of fire, or a world made of music, or it's like somehow that tree is Tārā, or Tārā's energy is everywhere. There are many possibilities, but we're perceiving the world as transubstantiated. It's a different kind of structure to the world and perception of it, which involves sacredness and imagination and beauty and all of that. You look confused.

Yogi: Well, so, what was happening this afternoon was different?

Rob: It may or may not be; I'd have to ask you more about it. If I asked you how did the world appear different to you then, how did the trees and the garden around you appear different to you then than it usually does, what was the difference?

Yogi: There was a sense of connection, no division.

Rob: Beautiful. Okay. That's it, that's how you'd sum it up, like that? Great, that's beautiful. So then I would make a further distinction. What you're describing, this sense of oneness with nature, etc., there's no division ... and there's a whole variety of kinds of experiences you can have like that. It could mean materially one with nature: we're all just one matter, you know? Or everything is awareness, including me. Or everything is love. So the substance of things, the substance of that oneness, can be perceived differently. Beautiful, mystical experience you had. Within that camp of oneness experiences, there are different flavours of oneness, and you can experience different ones.

I'm wanting very much to encourage that, but on this retreat, putting a bit more emphasis on what's more unusual within most spiritual cultures. If you were here on a long retreat, just an insight meditation retreat or a mettā retreat, I would expect that kind of experience to happen at some point. It's a natural unfolding of the ways we usually tend to practise. It's a natural opening up, very common within these kind of spiritual traditions and other ones. What's less common is when a particular character imbues the whole of the cosmos. Like Yuka [Q1] was saying, Tārā is not just love in the abstract -- Tārā's got a certain personality and a certain feeling, or this imaginal figure. And it's almost like everything becomes that imaginal figure. Does that make [sense]? At least theoretically?

Yogi: Theoretically, yes. I don't think I've experienced it.

Rob: No, it may not be. And the thing I'm partly postulating or theorizing right now is that the thing that makes it go that way, into this more individualized kind of cosmopoesis that retains the character, the thing is the erotic connection. I think. That's a theory I want to check. It's like, when there's an erotic connection with an imaginal figure -- and I don't mean just 'sexual' by 'erotic'; I mean something that's really about this character and that character connecting, coming together, without merging into non-differentiation and oneness. There's an attraction, like a magnetic attraction, in eros. It's alive and it's juicy and it's rich. That's what I mean by 'eros.' Sexual eroticism is a part of that.

Yogi: Is that the difference, when you and Catherine talk about the different person and then the connection?

Rob: The otherness, you mean? Yeah, absolutely. That's part of it. The otherness is also part of it. Otherness also means I'm not considering this imaginal figure as just a part of me, or it's my childhood memory, or it's just my childhood memory, or it's just my compassion, or it's just my this or that. It's other than me. Partly a way of defining 'imaginal*,'* I would define 'imaginal' as -- it's almost like when I feel into an image that's soulmaking, I'll notice that there are certain dimensions of that image which are a sense of otherness. It's like the image has a sense of autonomy. That's what makes it imaginal. It has a meaningfulness or kinds of meaningfulness, and it has beauty, and it has sacredness. But the beauty might not fit in a small box of my usual conception of beauty. It has a sense of other dimensionality and divinity to it. Those are things that we notice are in an image when it's really alive for us.

When there's the erotic connection there, I'm wondering whether that's what allows that image, when I stay with it, that when I then open my senses more to the world, that's when it spills over into the second kind of cosmopoesis. I think. There's something very retaining of the particulars, connecting, very intimate, very open, very fluid, but retaining of the particulars, rather than merging into oneness, losing my personhood and the personhood of the image. So it's retained there, and that spreads in a different way.

It's not a big deal whether it happens or not; we're just kind of saying this is a possibility. Catherine and I were talking last night, wondering if it was the erotic dimension that, when that's present and alive, that encourages that kind of cosmopoesis.

Yogi: And the erotic is this connection?

Rob: The erotic is the desire for connection, but not so that it goes into a kind of merging, loss of the particular, of the personhood, of self or the image. Just talking about possibilities here; none of this has to happen. In a way, the way we're talking on this retreat steers it a little bit more towards that, and not so much to the kind of experience you had in the garden, but if those kind of experiences happen I say absolutely fantastic. Enjoy it. It's so wonderful and nourishing and healing in so many ways to get those senses of things. But we're a little bit steering it not so much towards that.

Yogi: But that experience can then lead into ...

Rob: It might lead into it, but probably what would happen in that experience is it would more stay in this undifferentiated oneness, rather than going from there into a particular. You know, in a way, anything can happen, but I doubt it would move from that to the other kind, just in terms of what you described. But, you know, absolutely brilliant, and you don't have to force anything. It's just that partly we're emphasizing a certain kind of direction because it doesn't get emphasized, and because there's a whole avenue there that isn't really often talked about.

Yogi: So the images are still there with that oneness experience?

Rob: Yeah, exactly. Okay. [23:36]

Yes? Hi. What's your name? Zazie, hi.

Q3: sensing and lightly entertaining a view of autonomy of other in imaginal practice; delineating between self and other

Yogi: You might have sort of just answered my question. I'm not quite sure. So, one way in which my experiences tend to differ from a lot of what you talk about -- it's within the range of what you talked about, but to me, a lot of what's sort of soulmaking tends to be much more sort of textural and much more [?] intimate. But then sometimes, I've sort of been wondering whether I've been getting the otherness aspect. I feel that divinity of it, and I think I get a sense of it, but it's not so much a sense of self and other. It's almost like I've been trying to sort of drop in the self. I think what you're saying about eros, it's not so much that there's more sense of self, but there is a sense of that eros, and it's like wanting to merge, but there's not such a sense of self in it.

Rob: Okay. So there are a few things here. First of all, image doesn't have to be visual. I'm saying this for everyone; it sounds like you get that. It can be primarily kinaesthetic, or sometimes you can't say exactly which of the senses it is, but there's just a very particular sense. That's really important.

One thing I would say is the sense of self arises very differently and to different degrees of obviousness at any moment. What could be happening in your experience is the familiar sense of self is not arising, but there's still some sense of self. It could be a much more subtle sense of self. Not in any problematic way, just much more diaphanous, and light, and less contracted, less solid, less personality in it. That's one thing you could pay attention to. In a way, I would say there's always a sense of self, until the moment when everything disappears, okay? And that's not what you're talking about, because you've still got texture, etc.

So I would say one thing you could do within that is actually just gently feel out and notice, well, what is the kind of sense of self around now? And part of the image, whenever there's an image, the self is imaged with the image. That's something you can just include in what you're checking out. Does that make sense? Yeah?

And then 'otherness,' it's an interesting word, because it doesn't necessarily mean separate from me. What I think we want to mean by otherness is that it has an autonomy; it's not something that I can regard as totally under my control or totally a part of me. I can't just view it that way. If I do view it that way, something collapses, and I lose what I would call the imaginal dimension. Something loses vitality and power and depth in the image. So there's some sense of it being -- it has an autonomy, it has a power of its own, a voice of its own. It's visiting me, and yet it's also part of me. Sometimes I become it, and I change places with it, all this. But still it has a kind of beyondness to it. Does that make sense?

Yogi: Yeah. That autonomy, otherness, is that like the sense of autonomy of our image of the self, the way that that shifts and ...? Sometimes I seem to have autonomy and sometimes I don't.

Rob: Okay, this is the self now, or the image?

Yogi: It shifts between, so parts of what seem like the self, that I'm in control of, that don't have an autonomy as other, that sort of shifts around so parts of what seems like self become other and have their own autonomy as opposed to me controlling it.

Rob: I'm not following 100 per cent, but if I say something, see if it lands in the right place. [laughter] I go back to views with this. It's a funny thing. It's like -- in a way, this is related to Yuka's first question -- I can just believe, like some cultures or certain civilizations would just believe, "This thing has an absolute autonomy. It has nothing to do with me. All the power is over there." Compare that with some versions of modern psychotherapies: "It's all me. I am just creating. It's just a part of me." There are two kind of extremes: it's an aspect of me, or I'm just imagining this. For me, it's like there's a kind of balance here between really understanding that of course it's a dependent arising. Do you understand what I mean when I say that? It depends on my mind and the way of looking. I cannot go outside of that understanding, because that's Dharma understanding. I always understand what arises depends on my relationship with it in the moment, depends on past stuff, but really in the moment my way of looking, my conception, my energetic relationship. So it's fabricated in the moment with the mind, yeah? And this thing about autonomy is almost something like, at the same time as I'm holding that understanding of dependent arising, I'm entertaining the idea, I'm just being generous in my mind and granting this thing some autonomy, entering into a lightly held view that it has autonomy. At other times, it's more like I sense a certain level of autonomy. But all of those kind of ideas are held together. Does that make sense? Does that sound too much of a stretch, or does it sound ...?

Yogi: No, it's not quite ...

Rob: It's not what you were talking about. [laughter] Okay. Try again.

Yogi: In your conception, what is self and what is other? If I see my self as the parts that I feel that I'm in control of ... yeah, there's lots of sort of back-and-forth between the two.

Rob: The nature of self is that it has no inherent existence. The nature of image is that it has no inherent existence. Rather than shutting things down, what that opens up is that all of this will feel different at different times. It feels like, "Oh, this is part of me that I'm in control of. That's got more autonomy. I'm merging. I'm that. Now I'm here and that's there." The very emptiness of it all allows this complete movement between different conceptual views, but also experiences of the relationship, and of what's here and what's there, and who's where, and all that. Does that ...? So that's actually part of the whole deal, that there's a real fluidity, and for me no real formula other than these things about divinity and stuff, which are more general things. But the actual experience of what belongs where, to me, that's open, and there's plenty of room for movement. It's all good to explore. Does that ...?

Yogi: Yeah.

Rob: You're just being polite. [laughter] Okay, good. We have a little time if there's more. Yeah, Laurence? [32:23]

Q4: dangers and shadow sides in any Dharma path; what's most important to you and your soul

Yogi: I'm finding all the material beautiful, and absorbing and opening, loving it. I'm also kind of haunted a little bit by this question. So, Ṭhānissaro Bhikkhu, in a talk, he described the difference between the Theravāda tradition and the Mahāyāna. He describes the difference between the Theravāda and the Mahāyāna as kind of understanding a magic show, and the Theravāda then kind of putting a stop to it, and in Mahāyāna, becoming a magician. This kind of feels a little bit like we're trying to become magicians. So my question's kind of ... is Ṭhānissaro Bhikkhu buying into the metaphysics presented at the time of the Buddha, rebirth and putting a stop to rebirth? I just kind of, I have this sense, like, is this, several lifetimes down the way, leading to a shedload of dukkha ... [laughter]

Rob: I wonder ... you know, in a way, underneath the question is some fear or anxiety, right? About what will be the outcome of this, right? And how would you know? Ṭhānissaro Bhikkhu would say -- I can't speak for him, obviously, but I think he would just say that he's very much in the Theravādan tradition. He's a staunch Theravādan, you know. But underneath your question, it's a question that's about what will happen.

Yogi: I suppose there is like a personal element to it. There's all this soulfulness, and when I look at the last six months of my life, the soulfulness has not been present. Doing this retreat, I see this sense of soulfulness and creativity, and I could be on an incredible adventure, and deeply meaningful. Where do we go with this? Is it kind of -- all these divine images that want to come through us, and you talk about them having unreasonable and impossible demands, and it's like, if you look at very conventional life in relation to being swept away with the characters that you describe ... It could be great material for writing a book, and I keep thinking, "Oh, yeah." [laughter] But then I look at my brother with a wife and a kid, a happy conventional life.

Rob: That could be very soulful for him.

Yogi: Sure, sure.

Rob: I think one of the key words there was "swept away," you know. There's a lot I could say; I'm just aware of time, but maybe just say some brief things and we can check in at some point. One thing is that "swept away." Actually, step back: I feel very strongly, and I think this is an important maturity for everyone to realize, that whatever path we choose, Theravāda, Mahāyāna, this tradition, that tradition, whatever, secular mindfulness, it's going to have a danger. There is no path, there is no practice, without a particular danger. If I think there is, I'm missing something. Sometimes people think secular mindfulness is really safe. Mm-mm. It may not drive you crazy, but it will do something else. Or rather, a danger in it is something else, a potential danger. Every path has a potential danger. What's part of maturity in practice is knowing what is the potential danger with this path I'm in. One of the things with purely secular mindfulness, one of the problems, is that it's not very soulful. One of the things with Theravādan Buddhism, again, is it's cutting off the world. Its aim is actually not to be reborn, the world is not sacred, it's a place to escape from and never to come back to. The danger with this, as you say, is one could get swept away or could over-reify these kind of things. Every path has its particular danger of reification, of what it reifies, and its particular effect on the soul, if you like.

So that's just something to really be aware of, you know. If I've chosen a certain path, if a certain path attracts me, then I really need to know what are the potential pitfalls of that path. You've put your finger on one -- getting swept away. You know you know that. This is why I say sensitive to the energy body, mindful, what are the resonances and all that, but also seeing image as image, like we talked the other day. That's one of the things that prevents getting swept away, as well as a whole bunch of other stuff like cultivation of good qualities, awareness of one's emotions, knowing when to back off -- all this stuff. So when that's all in place, then the path becomes less dangerous, because I'm aware, and part of my path is a sensitivity to all that. Does this make sense? So that's part of the path. Whatever path I do, it's a maturity to know that, to be on the lookout for it and asking, etc.

I can't remember if I said this to you, but this kind of thing, not quite, has come up with several people. The fact that you're asking the question reassures me. It's showing that your mind is alive to the potential pitfalls, interested, curious, alert, sensitive, healthy doubting -- all of that. If you weren't, and you were just like gung-ho, "I believe this. This is the reality now. Everyone should ..." [laughter] Then I would be like, "Whoa, okay." The question shows something already.

There's all that. I'm moving quite quickly because we have to end. I'll say one last thing, which I actually did in a talk for this retreat, but it's not part of this retreat. You have to decide, or your soul decides or feels what it really wants. Classical Dharma is premised on the Four Noble Truths, which originally contextualized it as an escape from the world, not being reborn again, but we could say more loosely are about freedom and suffering less. There are some souls that that is not the most important thing in their life. That is not the most important thing. Because we're surrounded by a Dharma that just day and night is about freedom from suffering, release, peace, equanimity, da-da-da, sometimes what happens is a person takes on that and almost just is indoctrinated a little bit to "that's what I really want." I would say, "Ask what you really want. Find out. If that is, go for it. And what does that mean to you?"

Because 'freedom' has a whole range of meanings and depths, and extents and breadths. What kind of freedom? What level of freedom are you talking about? What range of freedom are you talking about? What areas of freedom? But it also might be that you really look inside, and freedom is important, but it's not the thing that's most important. For some people, sense of sacredness is more important. For some people, this artistic -- art is more important. For some people, it's the sense of beauty, the infinite ranges of beauty. In the depths of their soul, that's actually what they care about more. Is that Dharma still or not? There's a soul-relationship with that question, how am I conceiving, how I stand in relation to what the Dharma is. Am I a soul that just steps right out of that, dares to step out of it, or not? Do I create a Dharma that actually incorporates ...?

There are whole levels and dimensions to this whole thing. But I think more important is: what do you really want? Beauty, sacredness doesn't mean swept away, being completely crazy. It's not like black or white, one or the other. But there's something here really important about being authentic, and just clearing away a lot of what we've been told and hear over and over. Every book you read, every Dharma talk, it's like, great, wonderful, and how much there is to discover about freedom, the depths of freedom, and the range of freedom. And, either at some point, or always from the beginning, something else was more important or becomes more important. So that's quite a radical question, but basically, am I going to live my life in contact with what I most want, or not in contact? Authentic or inauthentic? In touch, from that root, or not? We could talk much more, but there's a lot in what you're [asking]. Does that ...? Yeah? Very good. Let's have just a minute of silence together.