When an old indian first agreed to show me a few things about weather, about wind and plants and animals, he told me I needed to learn how to listen. He told me that people had such continually noisy minds that almost no one was
able to actually hear anything in the world. He didn't think people actually paid *attention* to each other, let alone anything else in the world around them. That they were even unable to spend many minutes alone in their own
minds ... preferring to have continual noise, TV, radio, stereo, anything in the background rather than be stuck in silence with themselves. That even when they were wide awake people existed in something resembling a dream
state.

 

So the actual way I was supposed to learn how to listen (and the idea appealed to me because it just sounded so damn creative) was to do what he called "hearing a day" - to go into the mountains, sit under a tree somewhere, and remain wide awake, and motionless, for 24 hours. He bet me I couldn't do it. He also told me not to bother trying to BS him - cause he'd
*know* if I managed to do it. Didn't know what he was talking about - how hard could such a thing be?

 

I started around noon one day ...  after little more than three hours I was almost going nuts. My mind was racing and I came up with a hundred excuses why what I was doing was stupid, and almost just got up and blew the whole thing off. After four or five hours though, things kinda settled down, and I started getting really - well, *quiet* inside. Started to get a little about what he was talking about. And once I was no longer blurred by my own thoughts, a sort of veil lifted - and I started really noticing the world. The immense number of subtle changes that were happening during the course
of the day. The way the plants changed mood as evening approached. Watched a hawk hunting field mice. After awhile I noticed that the place I was sitting had kind of accepted my presence ... and things that generally scatter and hide at the approach of humans started accepting me as no more important than part of the tree. Little animals scurried around. A small herd of deer crossed a path less than 50 feet away - noticing me, but not as a threat.

And then I hit the Zone - total silence inside - watched night descend with its own rhythym. Heard the huge transition between day-life and night-life.
The many animals that quieted down at night, and the many others that awoke.

I started feeling a whole global range of sensation - perception became three dimensional ... the sun didn't "rise and set" ... the *earth* revolved, and I swear I *felt* myself sitting on a round globe, and *felt* its rotation in almost a visceral way. I heard wind, but not as its *effects* .. the sound of rustling leaves, but rather felt it as masses of air moving through the thick atmosphere, like bubbles in a stream.

 

Almost fell asleep a few times, but managed to stay awake even in the dead of night. Noticed this one place, just before dawn's first approach, when even the night sounds had ceased - and it was totally silent, time seemed to stop. I could not tell where I stopped and the world started.  But there was
almost a palpable feeling of - well, of a new day *gathering* itself. And then, before the sky had even begun to lighten, I heard what had to be one of the most remarkable and beautiful sounds in the world: The first chirp of a morning bird. Just one single note in the center of a vast silence. And
then all hell broke loose - the next hour felt like someone had turned a computer on, and an immeasurably large operating system was initializing its systems and booting its kernel. Species after species woke up, started making noises, started interacting with others. The plants changed. The air
changed, and when the first ray of sunlight finally hit the side of my face I *felt* it as a physical object. By the time noon came around, as tired and hungry as I was, it was very difficult to leave. There was *so* much that was still revealing itself to me - *so* much about the world, and the life living on it, that I had been so totally unaware of. It felt like I could
sit there for days and still only be understanding but the barest bit of what I had always just taken for for granted. But that day permanently changed not only my relationship with the natural world - but, as I went about my life, changed how I heard people too.

 

In fact, the next day, going to work, going out with friends afterwards, I was almost stunned at how very much I had been oblivious to. Noticed that with just a little center of silence inside - the equivalent of an inner "ear" ... that people could not *help* but expose their entire selves, their true intentions, with every word they spoke - even if the words (as words so
often are) were spoken to deliberately mask those very things - from others as well as from themselves. Like there is some wholly different level of life and experience, hidden but very real, that is continually going on underneath modern civilization - indeed, that civilization floats on as a
small boat on a large ocean.

 

My entire judgement of people changed. Some that I had never noticed I suddenly discovered were *aware* of this layer. Some that looked wholly unremarkable, upon hearing their voices, I understood to be exceedingly rare and magnificent at heart. Some that seemed weak were suddenly understood to
be powerful - others that had great apparent power ... in business, in society ... exposed themselves as being almost hollow inside, like but a few simple words could collapse their entire foundations. Few understood themselves in either direction. There were many brilliant souls who had no
idea they were brilliant, and many who were empty and undeveloped inside who thought themselves the greatest thing on earth.

 

But a few ... a rare few ... were *really* remarkable. They *understood*. They knew and *acknowledged* where their stars shone, and knew and acknowledged where their gems still needed polishing. No one could convince them that they were more than they were - but no one could convince them
they were less. And this seemed to have nothing to do with age, class, race, social status or wealth. These few seem to be scattered  through the entire vast fabric of humanity, like gemstones sewn randomly into a large quilt.

 

The other thing that day gave me was an appreciation for religion and philosophy. At the root of all of it, I think, is a person or persons that entered the Silence, and heard the world - heard its enormity, its vastness, its diversity - and tried to put it into words, tried to name it, tried to
express it to those who had not heard it in a way that would allow them an entrance into it. Having myself heard but the barest fraction of it, I at least won the gift of being able to appreciate those whose listening had extended over years, who had entered it deeply and passed portal after
portal on that interior path, an appreciation for those centuries old traditions that had accumulated the work and insights of countless nameless adventurers in that amazing interiority - as someone who has tried to paint with oils ... even if they are not particularly good ... can understand the paintings of masters, the skill, the nuances, in an entirely different way.
While *followers* of traditions, *students* of those writings, focus heavily on the knowledge aspect of things ... the *founders* themselves would *never* say that the writing, the concepts, have any importance at all in and of themselves. They would never claim that they had done anything other
than faintly hint at the actuality of that immensity. Would never try to claim that what they wound up writing and saying was not miniscule in relation to what they did not, and *could not* say. And were you to ask them how *they* would want their writings used, I think that most of them would
say:

 

"Do not bother yourselves about understanding the *letter* of my words, for that is only my own small self, rather try, try with all your heart and soul, to catch the *spirit* behind them, for that is much bigger than I. Do not tell me you've memorized countless passages, do not think, with pride,
that *I* care, or would take sides in, some mindless battles over the "real" meaning of my words - my words have *no* meaning, they are solely intended to suggest an *entrance* to a world that is the *essence* of meaning. Do not tell me you've fully grasped my concepts, tell me you've entered the *world*
in which they were born. Do not put on a mask of humility in front of me - your humility is nothing but a cross-dressing arrogance. Do not look at me as a "Master" - I *loathe* such concepts - they are untrue ... I have seen but a small piece of the truth and immensity of this universe, and understand that I am *nothing* - but if you crystallize a concept of me as
"master" in your mind, that idea - and the entire context it is but a small part of - effectively bars the door to the ranges of your own inner awareness required to access the infinite layers of the Real. I am not a Master, and my writings are not the truth. I am a guy standing on the side of a road, pointing. Do not look at me. Look at the direction to which I
point. Do not waste time examining the clothes I'm dressed in, or the intricacies of the hand doing the pointing, rather, examine your backpack - make sure you have gathered what you need for the journey, and gotten rid of everything superfluous to it. Do not get down on your knees in front of me -
understanding and honoring *me* is not the point. Get up on your feet, and
walk."

When an old indian first agreed to show me a few things about weather, about wind and plants and animals, he told me I needed to learn how to listen. He told me that people had such continually noisy minds that almost no one was
able to actually hear anything in the world. He didn't think people actually paid *attention* to each other, let alone anything else in the world around them. That they were even unable to spend many minutes alone in their own
minds ... preferring to have continual noise, TV, radio, stereo, anything in the background rather than be stuck in silence with themselves. That even when they were wide awake people existed in something resembling a dream
state.

 

So the actual way I was supposed to learn how to listen (and the idea appealed to me because it just sounded so damn creative) was to do what he called "hearing a day" - to go into the mountains, sit under a tree somewhere, and remain wide awake, and motionless, for 24 hours. He bet me I couldn't do it. He also told me not to bother trying to BS him - cause he'd
*know* if I managed to do it. Didn't know what he was talking about - how hard could such a thing be?

 

I started around noon one day ...  after little more than three hours I was almost going nuts. My mind was racing and I came up with a hundred excuses why what I was doing was stupid, and almost just got up and blew the whole thing off. After four or five hours though, things kinda settled down, and I started getting really - well, *quiet* inside. Started to get a little about what he was talking about. And once I was no longer blurred by my own thoughts, a sort of veil lifted - and I started really noticing the world. The immense number of subtle changes that were happening during the course
of the day. The way the plants changed mood as evening approached. Watched a hawk hunting field mice. After awhile I noticed that the place I was sitting had kind of accepted my presence ... and things that generally scatter and hide at the approach of humans started accepting me as no more important than part of the tree. Little animals scurried around. A small herd of deer crossed a path less than 50 feet away - noticing me, but not as a threat.

And then I hit the Zone - total silence inside - watched night descend with its own rhythym. Heard the huge transition between day-life and night-life.
The many animals that quieted down at night, and the many others that awoke.

I started feeling a whole global range of sensation - perception became three dimensional ... the sun didn't "rise and set" ... the *earth* revolved, and I swear I *felt* myself sitting on a round globe, and *felt* its rotation in almost a visceral way. I heard wind, but not as its *effects* .. the sound of rustling leaves, but rather felt it as masses of air moving through the thick atmosphere, like bubbles in a stream.

 

Almost fell asleep a few times, but managed to stay awake even in the dead of night. Noticed this one place, just before dawn's first approach, when even the night sounds had ceased - and it was totally silent, time seemed to stop. I could not tell where I stopped and the world started.  But there was
almost a palpable feeling of - well, of a new day *gathering* itself. And then, before the sky had even begun to lighten, I heard what had to be one of the most remarkable and beautiful sounds in the world: The first chirp of a morning bird. Just one single note in the center of a vast silence. And
then all hell broke loose - the next hour felt like someone had turned a computer on, and an immeasurably large operating system was initializing its systems and booting its kernel. Species after species woke up, started making noises, started interacting with others. The plants changed. The air
changed, and when the first ray of sunlight finally hit the side of my face I *felt* it as a physical object. By the time noon came around, as tired and hungry as I was, it was very difficult to leave. There was *so* much that was still revealing itself to me - *so* much about the world, and the life living on it, that I had been so totally unaware of. It felt like I could
sit there for days and still only be understanding but the barest bit of what I had always just taken for for granted. But that day permanently changed not only my relationship with the natural world - but, as I went about my life, changed how I heard people too.

 

In fact, the next day, going to work, going out with friends afterwards, I was almost stunned at how very much I had been oblivious to. Noticed that with just a little center of silence inside - the equivalent of an inner "ear" ... that people could not *help* but expose their entire selves, their true intentions, with every word they spoke - even if the words (as words so
often are) were spoken to deliberately mask those very things - from others as well as from themselves. Like there is some wholly different level of life and experience, hidden but very real, that is continually going on underneath modern civilization - indeed, that civilization floats on as a
small boat on a large ocean.

 

My entire judgement of people changed. Some that I had never noticed I suddenly discovered were *aware* of this layer. Some that looked wholly unremarkable, upon hearing their voices, I understood to be exceedingly rare and magnificent at heart. Some that seemed weak were suddenly understood to
be powerful - others that had great apparent power ... in business, in society ... exposed themselves as being almost hollow inside, like but a few simple words could collapse their entire foundations. Few understood themselves in either direction. There were many brilliant souls who had no
idea they were brilliant, and many who were empty and undeveloped inside who thought themselves the greatest thing on earth.

 

But a few ... a rare few ... were *really* remarkable. They *understood*. They knew and *acknowledged* where their stars shone, and knew and acknowledged where their gems still needed polishing. No one could convince them that they were more than they were - but no one could convince them
they were less. And this seemed to have nothing to do with age, class, race, social status or wealth. These few seem to be scattered  through the entire vast fabric of humanity, like gemstones sewn randomly into a large quilt.

 

The other thing that day gave me was an appreciation for religion and philosophy. At the root of all of it, I think, is a person or persons that entered the Silence, and heard the world - heard its enormity, its vastness, its diversity - and tried to put it into words, tried to name it, tried to
express it to those who had not heard it in a way that would allow them an entrance into it. Having myself heard but the barest fraction of it, I at least won the gift of being able to appreciate those whose listening had extended over years, who had entered it deeply and passed portal after
portal on that interior path, an appreciation for those centuries old traditions that had accumulated the work and insights of countless nameless adventurers in that amazing interiority - as someone who has tried to paint with oils ... even if they are not particularly good ... can understand the paintings of masters, the skill, the nuances, in an entirely different way.
While *followers* of traditions, *students* of those writings, focus heavily on the knowledge aspect of things ... the *founders* themselves would *never* say that the writing, the concepts, have any importance at all in and of themselves. They would never claim that they had done anything other
than faintly hint at the actuality of that immensity. Would never try to claim that what they wound up writing and saying was not miniscule in relation to what they did not, and *could not* say. And were you to ask them how *they* would want their writings used, I think that most of them would
say:

 

"Do not bother yourselves about understanding the *letter* of my words, for that is only my own small self, rather try, try with all your heart and soul, to catch the *spirit* behind them, for that is much bigger than I. Do not tell me you've memorized countless passages, do not think, with pride,
that *I* care, or would take sides in, some mindless battles over the "real" meaning of my words - my words have *no* meaning, they are solely intended to suggest an *entrance* to a world that is the *essence* of meaning. Do not tell me you've fully grasped my concepts, tell me you've entered the *world*
in which they were born. Do not put on a mask of humility in front of me - your humility is nothing but a cross-dressing arrogance. Do not look at me as a "Master" - I *loathe* such concepts - they are untrue ... I have seen but a small piece of the truth and immensity of this universe, and understand that I am *nothing* - but if you crystallize a concept of me as
"master" in your mind, that idea - and the entire context it is but a small part of - effectively bars the door to the ranges of your own inner awareness required to access the infinite layers of the Real. I am not a Master, and my writings are not the truth. I am a guy standing on the side of a road, pointing. Do not look at me. Look at the direction to which I
point. Do not waste time examining the clothes I'm dressed in, or the intricacies of the hand doing the pointing, rather, examine your backpack - make sure you have gathered what you need for the journey, and gotten rid of everything superfluous to it. Do not get down on your knees in front of me -
understanding and honoring *me* is not the point. Get up on your feet, and
walk."