Touching Reality

Life in the in-between

Dec 16, 2023

Hello everyone. As I mentioned in my previous post, I’ve just relocated to India from Singapore. I’m currently writing to you from my new room in Bangalore, using my blanket as a floor mat and my suitcase as a desk. (The state of the house at the moment takes ‘furniture-free’ to a whole new level.) The past few weeks have been full of intensity, surprises and rollercoaster emotions. But whenever I found space, some kind of wisdom emerged that guided me through—and now here I am (isn’t it always a surprise to remember that?)

The place I’m in feels liminal; not quite done with the past and not yet having created a new life here. When I was imagining this transition, my mind always skipped over this in-between zone—perhaps rightly so, because I couldn’t conceive of what it would be like. It’s a place of contrasts and serendipity, of discovering the gentle tug of desire amidst the noise of unpredictable circumstances, and of taking life one moment at a time, not because I want to but because that’s all I can handle right now. In living it, I discover that it’s more true, closer to reality, than ordinary experience. The constant unknowns and the blasting open of my daily life into something unrecognizable—all of it points me back to the foundation of reality that underlies everything, and for which I have no words.

And yet, in writing about it I begin to see the beauty and the majesty of what I’m going through; the myriad ways in which my body and heart and spirit are supporting me and carrying me onward, if only I can take the time to listen. I feel help coming from so many other forces too: particularly from friends; from the trees, the waters and the land I’m on; from the movement of the stars reminding me of deep time and space. In honour of that ever-present helpfulness, this post (and the next) will contain distilled reflections and bite-sized perspectives that are getting me through this big change, along with images from my travels. This will also be my last post of 2023, so I wish you a happy new year and thank you for being here with me this year. If you haven’t yet, please subscribe to stay in touch.

the disorientation of ideas

The 'paradox' is only a conflict between reality and your feeling of what reality 'ought to be'.
―Richard Feynman

When I first arrived in India a month ago, it was simultaneously familiar and nothing like I expected. Despite my intentions to keep my mind open and free of preconceptions, I soon realised I had inherited and absorbed an idea of India from the experiences of others: my parents principally, but also friends and my own vague memories from childhood trips. All of these notions were (and still are) knocking around in my head, taking up space and disrupting my ability to see what is in the here and now. For example, I still can’t wrap my head around the ubiquity of online and phone-based payment here. It doesn’t fit my idea of India as an antiquated, underdeveloped place.

A couple of weeks ago, my aunt and cousin took me to a mall. When we exited the parking lot into the atrium, I had a moment of total disorientation, because the inside of the space looked exactly like any mall in Singapore. All the brands were the same, the layout was basically the same, the lighting was the same—the only difference was the faces and the lack of music. For a microsecond, I stood still and frozen, thinking I had gone back home, or that I was dreaming… until reality caught up with me and I realised where I was (and promptly felt intensely homesick, of course. At least now I know where to go when I miss Singapore.)

That moment of disorientation, or unknowing, is a well-known gateway into the meditative state. The corresponding instruction is often rendered throw your mind into the gap, the gap being the space between (opposing) ideas and thoughts. Surrendering to confusion births higher forms of knowing.

Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment. Cleverness is mere opinion, bewilderment intuition.
—Rumi, Masnavi Book IV, Story II, trans. Edward Whinfield

At the same time, I recognize that some of these second-hand ideas are providing helpful context and giving me a sense of safety and familiarity that I desperately need. It’s nice to know that you’re still supposed to bargain with the auto-rickshaw driver, to hear the call to prayer at regular times of day, and to be able to at least minimally understand—even if not tolerate—the types of food available here.

I find myself in the perplexing state of needing to hold onto ideas and drop them at the same time. Isn’t that a paradox? From a spiritual perspective, the easy answer is to let go of all preconceived notions and just be. But from a practical perspective, I’m finding it takes my (imperfect, human) mind time to assimilate and process, to discern what to keep and what to let go of, and to mold my thinking creatively around new pathways and experiences. And maybe it is healthier to be adaptive—able to respond fluidly to novelty—rather than completely empty? In this I take my cues from my body, which knows that some structures, some ideas, and some boundaries are necessary to be well.

Oddly enough the paradox is one of our most valuable spiritual possessions, while uniformity of meaning is a sign of weakness… Only the paradox comes anywhere near to comprehending the fullness of life. Non-ambiguity and non-contradiction are one-sided and thus unsuited to express the incomprehensible.
—Carl Jung, Jung on Christianity, p. 192

top row: Government Museum, Chennai | bottom row: a fiercely windy day at Marina Beach, Chennai

this is the path

At my lowest point a couple of weeks ago, I came up with a mantra to soothe myself: this is the path. ‘This’ was whatever word captured my experience in the moment—anxiety, frustration, setbacks, heartbreak, longing, freedom, danger. Or, when I didn’t have the brain power to name what I was feeling, it would just be ‘this’ or ‘this right here’. It became a litany I would repeat to myself: anxiety is the path. fear is the path. not knowing anything is the path. being overwhelmed is the path. losing yourself is the path. taking a risk is the path. feeling alone is the path…and so on.

This practice was my way of reminding myself not to shut down, judge or turn away from my own experience. As I wrote about in an earlier post, tantric spirituality is about radical acceptance of everything, because everything you experience is part of Life, a form of creation wanting to be witnessed and known. The easy thing, and the default mode, is to pick and choose, to decide that this part of my experience is worthy and valid while this other part isn’t, or shouldn’t be, or needs to stop. I’ll take the novelty and the adventure, but not the uneasiness or the jealousy—as if I was ordering from a menu. But how can I make that call? Experience, like reality, simply is. Like the air around us, we are immersed in it all the time, and accepting it is just as vital to us as breathing.

Aurobindo Center, Bangalore | we stumbled upon this place by accident while wandering along Ulsoor Lake—it was so serene and spacious, despite being in the center of the city

I’m still using this mantra every few days, when I need the reminder. It opens the door of my heart to reality, to the precious what is rather than the intangible and longed-for what could be. At the same time, it shows me how to cultivate a basic responsiveness to my circumstances, to act in ways that are grounded in reality rather than fantasy. Taking something as the path is the starting point to workability, a way of saying yes, okay, I’ll find a way with this. Ultimately, the path is not only the immediate way forward, or even the path of my life; it is also the Way, the unfolding of Life that we are all part of, and called to participate in.

The Wise Body

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