by Richard Dance

Created on: February 25, 2007   Last Updated: May 11, 2007

Two Worlds

If you stand on the banks of a river and step into the water, then step out, and step in again, have you stepped into the same river or a different river? In a wonderful line from his Fragments, Greek philosopher Heraclitus answers: "Into the same river we step and do not step. We are and we are not."

In these two obscure phrases Heraclitus equates the human being with a river. The river is an ever-changing body of moving water. At the same time it is a cohesive unity that is still there the next day when you return to stand on its banks. You too are an ever-changing plurality and an unchanging singularity.

Our bodies, feelings, and thoughts are the constantly changing waters of the river. Respectively, they constitute our physical, emotional, and thinking selves. Collectively, they could be called the object self. Hence, Heraclitus' statement, "We are." Yet there is a mysterious unity that resides within our particular combination of pluralities, that could generally be called the observing self, but even this term is misleading. It implies that the observing self is doing something, which it isn't.

Rather, the observing self is the blank movie screen on which the dramatic movie of the object self is displayed. Hence, Heraclitus' phrase, "we are not," which describes the observing self through negation. The Hindus say neti, neti, "not this, not this." Whatever this mystery is, it cannot be sensed or thought about. It is beyond categories and never affected by any phenomena. No matter what movie is playing, the screen remains untouched.

Thus the observing self is a field of featureless awareness in which all the contents of our consciousness play out. When we try to grasp this field, it jumps back a step. Zen philosopher Alan Watts said reaching it is like trying to bite your own teeth or grasping at smoke with your hand. An old Chinese saying: "When you speak, It is silent; when you are silent, It speaks."

There are methods of practice that allow one to discover it, such as mindfulness meditation or graceful martial arts like Tai chi. Such exercises eventually give one the intimate experience of merging actor and action into a singular process of acting. The musician understands this state when she is no longer a person playing the violin but has become violin playing.

We forget the field of featureless awareness when obsessed with its individual contents. Buddhist philosopher Ashvaghosha likened this to the relationship between wind and water. Completely still water, undisturbed by wind, perfectly reflects everything while remaining unaffected itself. This is the mind in its original nature (observing self). The wind represents obsession with all the sensory, feeling, and mental content (object self) that move across the water causing ripples and waves. The calmness disappears but is still hidden under the windswept surface. When the winds of obsession cease, stillness returns. Suffering dissolves.

The object and observing self are in reciprocal relationship. One rises as the other recedes. One might ask, "Must I then sacrifice the rich experiences of life in order to realize the observing self?" Definitely not. You simply shift from relating to your world as the object self to experiencing it as the observing self. It is not a matter of relinquishing the world of wonderful phenomena for some barren landscape. Rather, how you experience the same world changes. Richness is not lost but redefined. You see the singularity in diversity and vice versa. Plato understood this when he said, "And if I find any man who sees both a One and Many in nature, him I will follow, and walk in his footsteps as if he were a god."

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