5 weeks, one beach part 3/4: Can I trust my pure being and summoning dolphins without thinking about them? (December 2022)

Back in Bulgaria, I had the feeling that analyzing and trying to deeply understand the things that were going on in my mind would no longer be my way. The funny thing is, that about six years ago, I had felt something similar but different. Back then, I had been thinking a lot about things that had been bothering me. It had been like a whirlwind of analytical thoughts, dissatisfaction, and sometimes desperation.

At one point, I realized that there was no need for the strong dissatisfaction and desperation I had been feeling. I understood that I could change my perspective on the things that had been bothering me. This realization came to me as I was reading the book “Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind” by Yuval Noah Harari. In the book, he describes many interesting concepts, but the one that resonated with me the most was his explanation of how humans believe in a lot of things that we just made up, such as money, countries, and companies. These things don’t actually exist, yet most of us believe in them so strongly that they shape and dictate much of our lives. Furthermore, Harari describes how subjective, dynamic, and elusive the human perception of reality can be. I began to think that if I was already believing in so many things that were not real and these beliefs were having such a big impact on me, and if my perception of reality was not solid but could be changed, then I could create new beliefs and change my perspective in a way that would make me feel happier. This had been the starting point for a long process of change. Dissatisfaction and desperation became less and less important. I think that at this point, I had started to actively change my perspective on things by altering my thinking about them. It was a lot of thinking, but it felt good.

Around the same time, I had begun to meditate and study various literature on happiness, mindfulness, Buddhism, philosophy, and psychology. At that time, my primary motivation was to understand how the self within me worked. In retrospect, I realize that I had been approaching this desire on an intellectual level. I had believed that nearly everything could be explained in this way. However, over time, this perspective had begun to shift. My intellectual understanding became more and more supplemented by a deeper level of feelings and beliefs. Despite this, I still had changed the way I saw things by analyzing, understanding, and then altering my perspective.

At some point during my journey, which had begun about a year ago, I had started to feel that analyzing and understanding felt clunky and unnatural. I had realized that I didn’t need to understand everything. However, I was still very much in my thoughts. Then, back in Bulgaria, these active, analytical, and transformative thoughts started to become less important. I feel that the intense time I had spent with Artha, our love, mutual triggering and everything else, had the effect of a catalyst.

I felt that my perspective on my thoughts and the concepts they were following had changed. I got the impression that the relationship between feelings, beliefs, thinking and arising thoughts might be different than what I had believed. From that point on, I felt more open towards myself and started to be more honest with everything that came up inside of me. I felt a different kind of authenticity and naturalness, something I hadn’t experienced before. The feeling reminded me of sayings like “there are no wrong feelings.” I felt liberated from certain boundaries that I had applied to myself in order to be authentic, mindful and spiritual. After Istanbul, I found myself relying on analytical thinking again at times, but mostly I felt like I was starting to welcome all aspects of myself and observe the parts that irritated me. So, I guess that was more observing, welcoming, and letting go than thinking, analyzing, and actively transforming.

At one point on that beach in Turkey, I got the strong impression that I might be able to fully trust what felt like my pure being. By “pure being,” I mean “me” without the arising and commenting thoughts in my mind. In (Zen) Buddhism, there are the terms “small mind” and “big mind.” I read most about them in “Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind” by Shunryu Suzuki. It’s a deep topic, but I guess for now, it’s enough to say that the big mind seems to perceive everything as it is, while the small mind (as a part of the big mind) tends to add delusions in the form of stories to everything one perceives. So, with a calm small mind and fewer delusions, one might suffer less in life because one would judge life less in a dualistic way of good and bad. I felt that what I felt like my being was pretty well described as the big mind, and my thoughts as the small mind. I felt like that I might be able to trust my being completely at some point, and I felt like the journey there had already begun.

I continued to attend the Dharma talks of the Bright Way Zen community via Zoom, and I was reading the book “The Unborn – The Life and Teachings of Zen Master Bankei” translated by Norman Waddell. It felt like it came at just the right time and I connected strongly with it. From my understanding, Bankei’s teachings mostly revolve around the belief that one can fully trust in their pure being and that is all that is necessary to not suffer in life because that being will take care of everything that needs to be taken care of. He refers to this being as “the unborn Buddha mind.” My brief descriptions of the “big mind” and “small mind” and this one about the “unborn Buddha mind” are by no means adequate descriptions of the concepts that Suzuki and Bankei are offering, but I think it’s enough for this post. Reading that book and its constant repetition of trusting my being felt relieving, confirming, and very healthy for me. It felt like my belief in my pure being kept growing.

One day, while sitting in Rosinante, I looked at the switch for my charging booster. I had always wanted to drill a hole in the interior of Rosinante to properly install the switch, but I never got around to it because I couldn’t decide on the best way to do it. But on that day, I just did it. Afterwards, I fixed an electrical connection of one of the batteries that I had been meaning to fix for months, but didn’t know how. I also improved the routing of the cable from my power converter through the cabin. These tasks that I had been putting off for so long, ended up taking only a couple of minutes to complete. And after these, I found myself tackling a number of other things that seemed to just appear. I simply did what was next and didn’t give much thought to them. It felt like a chain of flow. I experienced this feeling on several days while I was on that beach.

On another day, I hiked to a small waterfall and meditated at a peaceful creek. On that day, there were even fewer distracting thoughts in my mind, and I felt easy, bright, and light. When I returned to my camper and was reading on the beach, I felt the urge to look out at the sea. I noticed a bird swimming on the waves in the distance and thought it was astonishing that my human visual system could see the bird so clearly from such a distance. I wondered if I could see dolphins, and as if on cue, two dolphin fins appeared not far from the bird. The bodies of the two dolphins partly emerged from the water, one bigger than the other. They dove, reemerged, and disappeared. I laughed wholeheartedly.

5 weeks, one beach part 2/4: Goodbye drone, goodbye deluge, and will I ever see Artha again? (December 2022)

When I first arrived at the magnificent beach on the Marmaris peninsula, surrounded by nature, I immediately knew it would be my home for a long time. Usually, when I fall in love with a place like this, I stay for one or two weeks, but at this beach, I ended up staying for five weeks. And during the last two weeks, as sometimes happens in life, everything came together and I had a lot to let go of.

After I left Bulgaria, Artha and I remained in close contact. This was different from being together in the same place, but I was fine with it. Even though our connection had changed, I still loved her in many profound ways. I thought about her, us, the time we had spent together, and how we had been together. Part of me craved the continuation of our romantic love, the feeling of being whole again, the deep love, warmth, and connection in all its glory. Another part of me tried to downplay the importance of this “glory of romantic love”. Over the weeks after I had left Bulgaria, I realized how much my romantic ego had influenced me when Artha and I were together in the same place. It felt like I had used her for my own happiness. I didn’t feel regret or guilt, but from a distance, I could see it clearly. And I felt that I wanted to maintain this level of awareness about that.

When Artha and I had seen each other for the last time in Bulgaria, we both had felt and said that we would love to see each other again after her training. But even though I still believe we had meant it at that time, I had the feeling that although we loved each other, we might not meet after her training. Shortly after I arrived at the nice beach in Turkey, Artha finished her yoga teacher training. She told me that she would be going to an ashram in Germany for an undefined period of time as soon as possible. She would stay for a month, or maybe longer than three months. Part of me felt like it had always known that we wouldn’t see each other after her training. I guessed this was a self-protection mechanism, something like keeping expectations low to avoid disappointment if they weren’t met. I would have loved to see and feel her again, but I didn’t feel angry, mad, or sad. I felt okay with how it was. Like back in Varna, I deeply felt what motivated her to go to the ashram, with all my heart and love. I felt reminded of myself when I had left Germany despite the deep love and connection to Cori. And I felt like something was pulling me to stay on the journey I was on and the life I was living. I did not know if I would have returned to Bulgaria if Artha had said she wanted to stay there. A part of me thought about what the next change in the romantic relationship between Artha and I would be, but for the moment, I managed to let go of meeting Artha soon.

Shortly after I arrived at that beautiful beach, my perspective on making music changed. Until a few months ago, I only sporadically produced songs that I would enjoy listening to after some time had passed since their creation. But that changed, and I increasingly loved a lot of the music I made, regardless of how much time had passed since I created it. It felt like I had found the kind of music I wanted to make. And making that music felt mostly easy and smooth. A couple of weeks ago, I had started delving deep into music production courses. I had learned a lot from free YouTube videos and articles before, but now I was working through long courses for hours a day. Furthermore, I thought it would be helpful to become clear about what my music was. I defined my main genre, style and characteristics. In short, the feeling that I had found the type of music I wanted to make, let me feel confident and good about having a structured approach to my music making. I wanted to try making it competitive and thought that this would maybe allow me to earn money from it at some point. But one day right after I finished a song that I felt was my favorite of all time, my whole perspective on making music switched. I felt like now that I had done this song, that I loved so much, I would not be able to make another song that I would love as much as this song. And at the same time, I felt like my creative freedom was gone. Like I was trapped in a cage. I no longer enjoyed making music, and when I tried, I felt that there was nothing inside me that could possibly become music, and it felt impossible to get really into it. It was no longer fun for me. I felt like I couldn’t let go of my anxiety about failing and not living up to my own expectations for my next song. This realization led me to quickly decide to take a break from making music until I could regain a positive and enjoyable feeling about it.

When I had been in Istanbul I had decided to sell my FPV drone. I had stopped using it for months and no longer felt connected to it. Neither the flying, capturing, nor the editing appealed to me anymore. I knew I wouldn’t get a good deal for it, but I didn’t want to carry around something I wasn’t using. All the stuff that I was not using added up to something that felt heavy. While I was at the beach, a nice guy contacted me about buying my drone. We had a nice conversation via text messages and I had a good feeling about the deal. Since he lived far away from my home beach, I proposed that he would pay half the money in advance and the other half after the drone would have arrived. Two Turkish guys I talked to about the deal thought I couldn’t do it that way and said I shouldn’t trust Turkish guys when it comes to money because they would always take advantage if they could. I understood what they were saying but it still felt unfair to me. They didn’t even have a single contact with the buyer. I still had a good feeling about him and even though we had difficulties with transferring the money, he paid everything as we had agreed. So, I let go of my drone.

At the same time, I was also selling my Deluge (a hardware groovebox, sequencer, and synthesizer) that I had once loved to use. However, at some point back in Bulgaria, I had noticed that I had stopped using it. Like with the drone, it didn’t feel good to keep the Deluge when I wasn’t using it anymore. Back in Bulgaria, I had given it to my friend Michele who took it with him to Germany. A nice guy bought it online and picked it up from Michele’s place. And with that, I let go of my Deluge.

To be continued…

A more natural approach, letting go and Zen (October 2022)

Continuation of the previous blog post.

When it came to spending time together and showing romantic love, I was all in. I did seek to be close to Artha and learned that she needed more space than my ego was feeling to give without struggling. I believed that the general circumstances put some pressure on our connection as well. I was in Varna because Artha was there. If we hadn’t met, I most likely wouldn’t have been there. We spoke about this, but I thought it was just something “hanging in the air”.

Sometimes Artha built up what felt to me like a heavy energy and it felt like the interaction from her side switched entirely. From what I felt was loveful, warm, and close, she switched to ignoring, cold and distant. Sometimes just from one hour to the next. That triggered a lot inside of me. In times like this, I felt like I was losing her and that unique connection between us. I could not get through to her and a part of our connection got interrupted. Fully connected we looked each other in the eyes for long moments and it felt like I could look right into her. Seeing her completely as she was. Feeling everything there was.

When our connection got interrupted like that, we did not look into each other’s eyes. It just did not happen. A part of me did not want to have this. It felt like a threat to me. I was struggling with this switching between us and with me getting triggered. And I realized that my perspective was at first very self-centered. These occasions let me think about how Cori may have felt when she had been visiting me back in Greece (open blog post “There is no love left”). It felt like I switched places in something very similar.

At first, I felt like I was responsible to help Artha, to heal her from having that heavy energy. That is a pattern I was feeling and following for a whole lot of my life and still, it is present inside of me. Maybe it’s one of the patterns that let me suffer in my life the most. Throughout my life, I felt so often responsible for the emotional states of others. That let me feel like I have to do something to help them. And I think that it was only to feel better for myself. I was mostly rejecting bad feelings and negative energies. I just did not want to have them around me. I started a long process of letting this pattern go long ago, but during that time with Artha, it felt like I profoundly experienced that I was really allowed to let it go, that it did not have to be a part of me. But even after realizing this, it was not easy to let it go and still it sticks with me. But I felt like I did a big step. And one thing that changed my perspective on that pattern was, experiencing that in the end, there was nothing that Artha would need any healing for. That I was thinking she needed to heal started to feel encroaching and self-centered. Partly I just wanted her to not have this strong energy to spend time with her and enjoy the light and deep energy between us. But the times when my pure and egoless compassion for her felt stronger than the cravings of my ego.

That time did let me experience and learn how much heavy energies can help and heal if I let them. How wonderful it is to welcome and accept these heavy energies and let them transform themself into something else.

Disregarding the healing that took place in me, I still felt the demanding romantic ego love inside of me and I was struggling a lot with how to deal with it. I thought letting it all out felt encroaching and self-centered and I thought suppressing it felt wrong and unnatural. I just thought so much…

During that time I was reading the book “Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind” by Shunryu Suzuki (via Google you’ll find a pdf of it). I had read it years ago but back then it did resonate with me at all. But at the time in Varna and on the beach, I connected very strongly with it. I loved how it was trying to describe the non-dualistic nature of “everything there is” and how straight, pure, and “Zen style” it was. And especially the repetitive style I liked. For me, it felt like this book was trying to help its readers to not think so much but instead trust in themselves and live more. What is more, it described a lot about the “big mind” and the “small mind”. Basically, I understood, that the big mind is living without adding stories to the things we are doing/ living and the small mind is the part of oneself, that tends to add thoughts and stories to everything we are doing/ living. So the big mind sees and lives things “as they are” and the small mind adds delusions to that. These delusions then are causing suffering. Although I had read similar things hundreds of times before, something inside of me started to change those days. Somehow a seed got planted in me at that time. From then to now, my perspective about all of this has already changed and at that time back in Bulgaria, I only got a glimpse of it. But that glimpse felt good and healthy.

It felt like I experienced seeing the concepts in my mind differently. But just a tiny bit. Like I was able to open a door just a tiny bit and got a tiny glimpse of what was behind it. I was aware of some of these patterns and concepts before but now my belief that they were ok and I did not have to suppress them. Instead of analyzing, trying to understand, and changing them as I had in the past (see the last post), I started to accept them more as what they were and live them.

This experience let me start to change how I dealt with whatever was arising from inside of me. I started to open up to myself. It felt liberating. I think, I always had been a very authentic and pure human. But the glimpse through that door let me see that the authenticity of my past was like an idea or a concept I had come up with and which I had been living and sticking to. Like I had been living in a frame made by myself.

I started to partly let go of some mental concepts that made me feel unnatural. Following them let me feel like I was holding back a part of myself. And this part was mostly the one that I was suppressing because it did not feel “right”, “mindful”, “spiritual”, or “healthy” to me. When these parts had arisen before, I was suppressing them with my thoughts in a compassionate way. I was thinking something like “nice that you are here mind pattern but I think you are quite unhealthy so please go to sleep or away”. Now I started something in the direction of acknowledging, respecting, and accepting them as they were. In a way, I tried to live all of myself and not only the parts I wanted to have. But it was just a tiny step and it was irritating, weird, and demanding.

Being as analytical as in the example of the last post felt unnatural as well. It felt like coming up with concepts to explain concepts. Like stacking up concepts of and for the small mind high in the sky. I felt like being more direct and more natural. Less analyzing, more living, trusting in myself and seeing what would happen.

When my ego was demanding things, I told Artha. I tried to do so with as much love and compassion for her and myself as I could. So I did not act like an unleashed “ego devil”. At least I think so. It felt good and healthy and like I really could have a look at what was coming up from inside of me. The holding back and thinking about these things which I had done before, started to feel more and more theoretical and unnatural. But at the same time, not holding back most of what was coming up felt self-centered and still like I was managing it with my thoughts.

A lot of the time, I was thinking a lot and still the romantic ego love felt partly unhealthy and I was struggling to accept it. But I felt that that glimpse through that door opened up a deeper, more healthy, more true, and more natural perspective on a lot of things. And the unconditional love and deep connection between Artha and me felt so strong and unique…