“Men seek retreats for themselves, houses in the country, sea-shores, and mountains.” — wrote Marcus Aurelius in his Meditations — “But this is altogether a mark of the most common sort of men, for it is in thy power whenever thou shalt choose to retire into thyself.”

Two millennia later, Fernando Pessoa (1888 – 1935) would echo the same sentiment in The Book of Disquiet when he wrote, “A man of true wisdom, with nothing but his senses and a soul that’s never sad, can enjoy the entire spectacle of the world from a chair, without knowing how to read and without talking to anyone.”

For Fernando Pessoa, the inner world was the pinnacle of felt experience as he compared himself to a scrupulous scholar of feeling hunched over the book of sensations, taking refuge there and exploring them like unknown countries.

And even though he struggled, like all of us, with questions about religion, the meaning of life, and nature of existence, from time to time, he had glimpses of true clarity, when all his doubts cleared away, and these instances shone the light of hope in the fog of disquiet and uncertainty.

Immersed in soulful reflections, he could see that everything has an inner essence that is not different from our own. This is how he described it in one of his notes:

“I love the stillness of early summer evenings downtown, and especially the stillness made more still by contrast, on the streets that seethe with activity by day. Rua do Arsenal, Rua da Alfandega, (…) the entire stretch along the quiet docks all of this comforts me with sadness when on these evenings I enter the solitude of their ensemble.
(…)
There is no difference between me and these streets, save they being streets and I a soul, which perhaps is irrelevant when we consider the essence of things. There is an equal, abstract destiny for men and for things; both have an equally indifferent designation in the algebra of the world’s mystery.”

Following these sonorous sentiments, he inevitably uncovers the false nature of our mind-made selves, our egos, that always seek something from the outside to fill the void of discontent and insecurity:

“All that I’ve done, thought or been is a series of submissions, either to a false self that I assumed belonged to me because I expressed myself through it to the outside, or to a weight of circumstances that I supposed was the air I breathed. In this moment of seeing, I suddenly find myself isolated, an exile where I’d always thought I was a citizen. At the heart of my thoughts I wasn’t I.”

Inspired by this insight, he observes how moments of serene presence unburdened by egoic thoughts lead to inner renunciation and a feeling of true liberation:

“To know nothing about yourself is to live. To know yourself badly is to think. To know yourself in a flash, as I did in this moment, is to have a fleeting notion of the intimate monad, the soul’s magic word. But that sudden light scorches everything, consumes everything. It strips us naked of even ourselves.
(…)
To imagine, without being, is the throne. To desire, without wanting, is the crown. We have what we renounce, for we conserve it eternally intact in our dreams, by the light of the sun that isn’t, or of the moon that cannot be.”

The Book of Disquiet in the phenomenal translation by Richard Zenith reads like meditation in prose or “lamentation on love, dreams, art, existence, possession, expression, fulfillment, discouragement, interiority, exteriority, politics, nature, life itself.” It’s a treasure chest of uncut gems of thoughts and dreams which can be arranged and rearranged in infinite combinations. Every time you’ll pick up the book from the shelf and read it, it will leave you with food for thought and deep reflection.

A letter from C.:

Hi Gavril,

I can relate to your story and the feeling of chronic background discontent.

I feel that every day because of my own inner struggle.

But I have also practiced mindfulness and meditation daily, off and on, for a very long time. I believe in it as a holistic approach.

I recently read The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle for the second time because it meant so much to me.

I have no problems grasping the concept intellectually and connecting to my inner body for mindfulness and presence practice.

Yet the sadness within feels like a bottomless pit. Not just my own but the state of the world.

I guess my question is if I deeply accept this reoccurring feeling and let it be, will it eventually disintegrate?

How do I accept it while disengaging in my mind? How to do both at once?

Kind regards,

C.

Hi C.,

During one of his retreats, Eckhart Tolle mentioned that sometimes he cries when he thinks about the state of the world and what humans do to each other and sentient beings on this planet.

He told that story when someone asked him if he still had a pain body or was completely free of it.

So everyone has a pain body, even spiritual teachers. And you’re not alone in feeling sad for the world.

Acceptance is only a temporary device that we can use while learning to live in a state of complete presence.

This means that you have to be careful and not let your mind use acceptance as an excuse to feel sad and unhappy all the time.

If that happens, then it’s not acceptance anymore. It becomes a mental abstraction that you add to your sense of unhappy self.

Yes, when you face difficult emotions, feelings, and thoughts, the first step is to accept them. It’s better than trying to push them away.

But the purpose of acceptance is to see that those feelings are not you, that the essence of your being is not affected by them. Feelings are just feelings. They come and go.

So to answer your question: the sadness you feel won’t disintegrate, but rather you will not be affected by that sadness.

And with time, you will stop creating the sadness, and so there won’t be a need to accept it anymore.

Regards,

Gavril

What is the first thought that goes through your mind in the morning?

Did you ever try to notice it?

Or does it get lost in the rush of your morning routine?

The way it usually happens is that we tend to get up very quickly. Or we slowly roll out of bed half asleep and crawl into the bathroom. Which one is typical for you?

Looking back, I used to feel terrible. Hearing the alarm clock was the most dreaded part of my day. I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t want to do all the stuff that I had to do.

After some time practicing meditation, I started to notice this thought every morning, “I don’t want to get up because I feel disconnected. I feel empty.”

And that thought was always there, but it was unconscious. I didn’t really notice it. I just felt it as stiffness in my body, bad mood, and low energy during the day.

And it was normal for me. This realization shocked me. It showed me how miserable and unhappy I was.

But at the same time, it was an important step in my spiritual growth as a meditator.

All the unconscious thoughts and patterns started to reveal themselves to me. And with that knowledge, I had a choice to take action and do something about it.

I’ve tried different ways to feel better in the morning and found these three things (besides meditation itself) give me the best results:

1. Body awareness. When I open my eyes, I don’t get up right away. I lie in bed for 10 or 20 seconds and reconnect with my body. A brief body scan helps to ground me in the present moment and reveal the state of my mind. What are the thoughts that are going through my head right now? Are they negative or positive? Am I welcoming this day or resisting it?

2. Silence. I intentionally don’t do any of these things: turn on the music, look at notifications on my phone, read the news, check social media. I found that these things never bring any value to my wellbeing, only agitate and provoke negative reactions.

3. Doing everything slowly. I noticed that if I do every morning activity even 10 or 20 percent slower, I become more aware and naturally focus on the action at hand. Washing up, brushing my teeth, doing exercise, eating breakfast. All of these activities become more meaningful and more relaxing.

How are your mornings these days? What are your thoughts? Do you have any favorite ways of adding more calm into your routine? Let me know, I would love to hear from you.