IV.

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DAY 11

Had my retreat gone as planned, I would be deeply settled and experiencing a great sense of peace and clarity by now. My breathing and movements would be much slower, and the deep creases between my brows would all be erased. I would be comfortably operating on much less sleep, perhaps only a few hours a night, and eating less. I would be living, for all practical purposes, in an altered state. But I have no regrets, as I am helping another being in need, and actually, I am enjoying playing the role of guru.

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Today, my objective was to show Hugh that he isn’t the intellect sheath, nor the subconscious/bliss sheath. With the mind sheath, we already covered that Hugh isn’t his thoughts, feelings, or emotions. As much as we would like to identify with our thoughts and emotions, in the end, they are simply objects on the screen of consciousness that come and go. Logic would tell us that we can’t be that which we know, because in the case of pure awareness, the subject can never be the object. This also applies to Hugh’s powers, which are known to him and therefore cannot be him.

Next, I explained to Hugh that the intellect is that apparent part of us that calculates, strategizes, and reveals solutions. That said, if we were the intellect, it would always remain sharp, regardless of the circumstances—meaning we would always make the right decisions. Alas, sometimes the intellect is sharp and we can see the solution right in front of us, and other times it’s dull—like when we’re tired, sick, or taken over by anger.

Hugh seemed to understand this last point well.

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Last, we discussed the subconscious sheath, also known as the causal or “seed” body. It’s where thoughts come from and where the mind-ego-intellect retreats to each night when we’re in deep sleep. This is the most subtle of the sheaths that conceal the Self, and it is inaccessible, meaning we cannot see it, because it’s more subtle than even the mind or intellect.

 

Once we had negated all the sheaths and concluded that Hugh is none of them, Hugh naturally asked, THEN WHAT AM I? (At least now, he was phrasing it correctly.) Concerned, he followed with AM I NOTHING? I told him, “You are both nothing and everything.” I didn’t expect a response, so I continued by explaining to him that we can take away everything in the universe, including this body-mind, using simple logic. Even science tells us that all objects are made up of other parts, and when reduced to their smallest divisible constituents, end up being just empty space. However, space isn’t no-thing. Space is still an object known by awareness—which, I reminded him, is his actual nature. AGAIN! was his response, and then later, MORE! I told him that there is no more, that that’s as far as it goes, that the essence of what he is, is non-dual awareness, full stop. I suggested we return to the topic again tomorrow. Hugh had more than enough to chew on—if not for today, then for eternity.

 

It is hard to know how much Hugh is actually taking in. Some rare individuals will immediately understand the truth regarding their actual identity upon hearing about the Self. Others—ninety-nine percent of us—will need to hear it over and over again until, like a seed provided just the right conditions, the knowledge begins to sprout and reveal its full splendor.

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It is said that there are four qualifications for entering into Self-inquiry: discrimination (between what’s true and not true), dispassion, discipline, and a burning desire for freedom. It is impossible to tell whether Hugh has the first three, but it is certain that he has the last. He is desperately looking for the key that will set him free.

 

DAY 12           

I find it odd to be preparing and eating food with the same utensils that Hugh uses to construct his form each afternoon. I haven’t been able to pick up the tongs for days without having the strange sensation that I am using Hugh’s “hand” to mix my greens. I have also been concerned that Hugh might show up at the wrong moment—perhaps when I’m boiling water for pasta, or washing the dishes I just dirtied with spaghetti sauce. Needless to say, I don’t want to have any more accidents. So, just to be safe, yesterday I went out and bought enough TV dinners and plastic utensils to last the rest of my stay.

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Today, Hugh wanted to choose the topic of discussion again, which was fine by me. It’s easier to answer questions than to have to devise a curriculum. After I sat down, he quickly wrote, DEFINE AWARENESS. Traditionally, this epithet for the Self, is described differently depending on the student and their degree of understanding. One normally begins by describing awareness as “the witness,” and then from there, it becomes more nuanced. But I didn’t have all the time in the world to spend with Hugh, so I just gave it to him straight-up. I told him, in very general terms, that awareness is the illuminating factor by which all objects are known, as well as the substrate upon which all of creation exists. That said, the nature of awareness is that it is unchanging, indivisible, and always present. Before he could write it himself, I quickly wrote it down for him: MORE!. He responded by drawing a crooked smiley face—the only time humor entered the conversation over the span of five days.

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This definition of awareness greatly perplexed him, as it does everyone who hears it for the first time. So, I provided more context. Let’s say that objects don’t exist “out there” in the world, but instead, only within pure awareness —that which we refer to as the Self. Now, if that’s the case, we can say that objects exist in me (the Self), but are not me. Why are objects not me? Because they are that which is known by me and are dependent on me for their existence. This, of course, requires a cognitive shift and a complete reversal of how we perceive the world. If the world resides in awareness and not the other way around, then I am not in the world. The world is in me! I asked Hugh if he was following, to which he replied, AGAIN!

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The fact that awareness is unchanging and always present sets it apart from objects. I asked Hugh if he could name an object that is unchanging and always present. He wrote, SPACE, to which I responded, “According to scientists, space is not a constant and actually tends to bend, flex, and undulate because of gravitational forces. Also, where is space when you’re sleeping?”

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Last, I reminded him again that unlike the sheaths and all objects, awareness is unique in that it can never be negated. It doesn’t take much effort to dismiss empirical reality, especially when one considers everything is really just a thought.

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If I look at a tree, the tree appears to be “out there,” but in reality, it exists in me as a tree-thought. The tree comes in as sense-object data—meaning it has a certain shape, color, smell, sound, and texture—that the mind then interprets as “tree” based on what it already knows. In most cases, we could argue that the world isn’t any more real than a dream! A dream seems real while you’re in it. It’s not until you awaken that you can say with conviction that it was just a dream. However, as easy as it is to dismiss objects, what we cannot ever deny is that we are having an experience—and experience requires awareness.

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Several times, I saw Hugh struggle to write something down in response, starting and then stopping, then starting again. The gears were turning, as were mine when I first began to learn of the Self. I wanted to share with Hugh all the scripture verses and metaphors that point to this very truth over and over, but time was short, and the only thing I could hope for was the grace needed to get him over the finish line. He seemed to fidget excessively, one moment dropping the pencil and the next picking it up again. Unexpectedly and without warning, he then put both arms on the table, and as if he had had enough, just dissolved. Once again, I was left to clean up the mess.

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End of conversation, I thought.

 

After yesterday’s session with Hugh, I am better able to understand the challenge that all teachers must have. All you can do is provide the right knowledge, the rest is up to the student. It’s up to the student afterward to make something of it, which usually includes much contemplation, followed by questions—lots of questions. Of course, the knowledge doesn’t always stick, especially this kind of knowledge, which is why scripture calls it “the secret knowledge.” Because even once told, most people won’t get it. It’s a paradox that the most valuable knowledge—“that which, when known, there remains nothing else to be known”—is the greatest open secret—the one that, once uncovered, remains safely and securely hidden away.

 

DAY 13

Hugh, once again, chose the topic. DEFINE FREEDOM, he wrote, emphasized with a sharp underline. We seemed to be narrowing it down to his main objective. I explained that freedom is the understanding that I am not bound, have never been bound, and will never be bound. It’s changing one’s identity from the limited body-mind to limitless non-dual awareness. Actually, freedom isn’t an understanding, I told him. It’s our very nature. It’s not to be found. It’s to be known!

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This seemed to have a visceral effect on him. A few spoons detached and fell to the ground. It was a rare show of emotion since the first night, when he smashed his left arm on the tabletop in utter frustration.

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Despite my self-restraint and desire to keep things impersonal, I felt that now was a good time to have everything I taught Hugh, hit home. The being called Hugh now needed to confront whatever was keeping him shackled.

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I asked, “Hugh, what is it that’s keeping you from ‘getting out’? Can you see that Hugh is just as real as the tree mentioned previously? …That all your thoughts and likes and dislikes belong to no one? …That you and a tree and the entire universe are just a projection on the screen of awareness?” I continued relentlessly, “The knowledge I just shared with you destroys whatever history you have. It’s the ultimate ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card.”

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Now referring to Hugh in the third-person, next I said, “I have no idea what Hugh did to deserve living in this current state, but I do know that it’s not real, if we define ‘real’ as that which never changes and is always present. I’ve already shown you that you’re not your powers, mind, intellect, or subconscious. Where does that leave ‘you’?” I asked rhetorically. “It leaves you as unborn, infinite, non-dual awareness—the very ‘light’ that vivifies the experience called Hugh!”

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I stood up to emphasize my next point, leaning slightly forward with hands on the table, my face now inches away from Hugh’s big blue vase head. “Can you see that, Hugh? Can you see that you’re not who you believe yourself to be, nor the history, nor the sad state of affairs you perceive?”

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I paused for a few seconds before bringing it full circle.

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“You are not Hugh. Hugh only exists within you as another object. You are the Self!” I pounded on the table with my fist, as if trying to break through the very confinements Hugh imagined himself in. The melodramatic approach seemed to have worked.

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A tremor overtook him, starting in his core—if a pile of kitchenware can have one. At first, it was just a shudder, like a breath caught in the throat. Then, chaos. Objects tumbled from his frame—an eggbeater clattered to the floor, a cookie sheet crashed, a roll of paper towels unfurled as it toppled. The shaking intensified, a silent storm of movement, until every last piece came loose.

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Some utensils rattled like possessed bones. Others twitched, as if trying to crawl back into place but failing. Then—without warning—the entire collection erupted. A rush of silverware flooded the kitchen drawers. Pots and pans soared soundlessly to their cabinets. The blue glass vase—Hugh’s head—drifted back to its perch on the bookshelf, settling as if nothing had ever happened.

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And then…silence.

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He was gone.

 

Afterward, I don’t know what to expect and am a little worried about Hugh. So, the next day, I just stay at home and wait patiently for another visit from my student. But the day comes and goes with no sign of Hugh. I write him a note but have no idea whether he’s read it. In the end, I figure that whatever happened to Hugh, he can’t be any worse off than before.

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I spend the last day of my retreat going for a bike ride and experimenting with a couple of new recipes I find in one of the cookbooks on the bookshelf (cooking once again appeals to me.) I am sad to leave the house the next day, especially without having a chance to say goodbye to Hugh. I cherished our strange encounter and already greatly miss him.

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I slowly gather all my belongings and put them in the car, doing one last check to make sure I’m not leaving anything behind. I lock the front door and take a deep breath before getting in the car to brave the outside world once again.

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I pull out my keys from my jacket pocket, stick them in the ignition, and just sit in the car for a few minutes with my eyes closed, taking in the last of the holy silence.

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I am just about to start the car when the flock of tiny, rosy-faced house finches I observed on my second day, land not twenty feet in front of the car on the gravel. At first, they appear to be just looking for seeds, and then something peculiar happens. They simultaneously elevate about four feet above the ground and pause in a sort of a holding pattern before forming a line. Next, the line becomes a circle, moving clockwise for a few rotations, and then counterclockwise. Afterward, the flock flies toward the center of the circle, only to flare out in a sort of undulating motion that repeats itself and looks like a giant pulsating mandala. And then, as quickly as it began, it stops and scatters to the heavens.

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It is the most amazing gift. One I shall never forget.

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Some years later, driving down from Mendocino, I stop by the house, just to reminisce about my time there with the only student I’ve ever had. But the house has changed—taken over by new owners, I guess. As I drive away, still pondering after all these years whether Hugh was a spirit, an alien, or a lucid dream, a flock of birds flies above the cypress trees and back out toward the infinite sea.

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