This is an AI-generated transcript from auto-generated subtitles for the video above. It likely contains inaccuracies, especially with speaker attribution if there are multiple speakers.

Guided Meditation: Doing Nothing

Greetings. Greetings to our morning meditation here in California and other time zones around the world. They say there's a time and season for everything, and there's a time and season for us to experience ourselves, bare in this life^[1], without needing to do anything, where nothing needs to be done.

One of the things we discover through meditation is how much the active mind^[2] operates with the idea that something needs to be done, or operates on the wanting of something. It's common in our thinking. Thinking is often about something, and it's about wanting something, having something, or even getting something. But thinking is not always about anything in particular. There might be a wanting to think—a wanting for the pleasure, the delight, or something about the experience of thinking.

There's often involvement with it; we are involved with our thinking. In meditation, as the mind gets quieter and quieter, we see how much there's a subtle involvement in most thinking. We're leaning into it. We're participating in it. There's a desire fueling it—a desire to get away, change something, or a desire for the pleasure of fantasy. Often there's a sense of self; there's "me" as the agent, as the doer operating with the thinking.

From time to time, it's possible to discover that the mind can think without any involvement on our part, and without anything needed. The mind doesn't need to have anything happen; it's just what it does, really. For some people, maybe a close example of such a thing is sometime when there's nothing needed of you, and you're content. Maybe it's time off. Maybe you've gone for a walk someplace and you're able to look at a nice creek or a river going by, or laying on the grass in a park and looking up at the sky and seeing the clouds go by. Looking at a fire—some people have it sitting around a campfire at night—there's something about watching the ripples of water flowing by, or the waves over and over again falling against the shore, or watching a fire. There are all the different patterns of the flames coming and going, arising and passing, that the mind can kind of let go and relax.

You may have an experience where the mind is not doing anything or trying to make anything happen. It's not focusing or fixating on anything it's looking at, but is allowed to just relax and flow with the flowing river, or just be at ease. There's a profound sense the mind doesn't need to do anything. Nothing to accomplish, nothing to pick up, nothing to name, nothing to describe, nothing to make into anything. The mind might still be thinking, but we're not really involved in thinking. Some people say they're daydreaming, but it might not even be involved in daydreams. It's in the background. Sometimes, just watching the river go by, maybe we don't even know that the mind is thinking. There is so little involved, and it's in the background. There's a deep sense that nothing needs to happen. Everything is safe, peaceful.

This is a profound discovery, to really appreciate this capacity of the mind, because it's possible to discover that this can be much more a part of everyday life than people allow it to be. The mind's natural capacity to think can operate just fine in many circumstances to take care of us, without us being involved with the thinking, without us picking it up, fixating on it, or focusing and trying to do something with it. Thinking can flow through and take care of everything that needs to be done in many circumstances, and the overall mind can stay in this place of peace—of not being involved actively, not being involved with the self.

This is one of the potentials of meditation, to work towards a time and place when nothing needs to happen. We don't have to be involved in our thinking. With that as the North Star, or the context of how we're practicing, maybe we won't invest so much importance in our thinking. We still think, but we might not believe in it so much, believing that this is where everything is going to be solved and fixed and worked out. We are willing to let the thinking recede in importance temporarily, so we can have a taste of a mind that operates where nothing needs to happen.

It's a process. We put ourselves into a meditation posture that begins that process of not doing much—a posture which allows not doing much, but still allows the system, body, and mind to be alert and sitting still. Meditation is symbolic of the movement towards this inner state where not much needs to happen. Maybe the mind realizes nothing needs to happen at some point, but in the beginning, we take a posture that begins putting the body at rest, closing the eyes.

There might be many different kinds of sensations in the body, and for a few moments here you might feel those sensations where the body feels still and stable. Where the body can begin to relax, there might be sensations that are on the edge of relaxing that you might feel in the shoulders. Maybe you don't have to do the relaxing, but you could feel those sensations that are on the edge of relaxing themselves. Maybe there are muscles in the belly that are on the edge of relaxing; feel the tension in the holding. It might feel like, without you relaxing, those muscles want to relax on their own, if you allow them.

There might be sensations in the face that are on the edge of softening. Simply, in a relaxed way, feel those sensations, and if they want to relax on their own, allow them to relax. Maybe there are sensations in your back that are on the edge of relaxing. Maybe they don't relax on their own, but it's okay just to feel them for a few moments.

Maybe there are sensations in your body or mind of pushing forward into the future, and those also can be felt on the edge of relaxing, if not pushing. There might be a holding in the whole body, bracing ourselves against life or something, and we can feel that bracing is also on the edge of relaxing. We're feeling it where you're at the edge of relaxation, of release. If it wants to relax, allow it.

And then with your breathing, are there any sensations in the whole process of breathing that also feel like they're on the edge of relaxing, that they would like to relax as well? Feel the rhythm of the body breathing in and breathing out. The sensations come into play in your body, and maybe those sensations are there to watch, to be aware of them. You can do so as if you're sitting on the riverbank watching the river flow down, watching all the little wavelets and currents flow by. Sitting on the riverbank of your breathing, watching the kaleidoscope of sensations, the river of sensations connected to breathing, the constant flow of breathing in and breathing out.

Maybe in your mind, as you do this, you feel there are also sensations of being on the edge of relaxing the mind. The mind, who doesn't want to work so much, or be involved so much in its thinking. Perhaps let go, relax the thinking mind, release it, and let go into the breathing.

Perhaps, if you can, be content to watch the river of breathing just flowing by. Watching that part of the river—our breathing—that flows by the present moment, this little phase of time of now, with no before and after. Just the sensations of breathing endlessly flowing by. In the mind, not much needs to happen. Moving towards the mind at rest, at ease. The self not involved, not picking anything up. Nothing needs to happen, but resting the mind with the experience of breathing, and flowing by.

Notice if your mind is involved in things, if you're participating, engaged, or wanting to be involved with your concerns and your thoughts. Notice how they are also where the edge of relaxing is, that edge where something wants to release. When things relax or release, there will be a place where nothing needs to happen here and now, at this moment. In the release is the ceasing of anything needing to happen. A willingness for the system, for a moment at least, to just be. Perhaps just being with the flow of breathing, allowing it, almost like the breathing massages you or calms you. Like receiving a gentle massage from the inside, or receiving a profound message for this moment: everything is okay. Sitting here and meditating, everything is okay for this moment here and now. It's okay just to sit here; nothing needs to happen.

As we come to the end of this sitting, maybe this idea that nothing needs to happen at this moment—for a few moments here, that there are no responsibilities, no requirements, no obligations to do anything—for a minute or two here, allow yourself, allow your heart to be at ease or be okay as it is.

In this okayness, with no obligation and nothing required, is there someplace that you can find within—maybe the edge of relaxation, the edge of tension, or the place of softness within—where there might be some kind of natural caring for anything that is tense, anything that is not relaxed, anything that is suffering? Maybe the sense of being on the edge of suffering, the edge of tension, the edge of hurt, that there might be a natural sense of care, or momentum of movement to be beyond the hurt, the tension, the suffering.

If we turn our relaxed gaze out upon the world, and are aware of the suffering of the world, looking upon the world, then also perhaps there's some small place that's a real place—no requirement, no duty, no obligation—but a very simple caring for the suffering of the world. Caring for the hurts that other people experience, the fear, the danger that people have, and what it's like to experience it. The suffering of the world. Is there a place inside, or the edge of a place inside, where it's not you caring, but a natural place, a place of not-self^[3] that cares for the world? It may be a place of love or compassion, or maybe a place that can feel the potential of freedom.

It's one of the profound aspects of a human being, that source within that can care for the world without it being a job or requirement, or something that evokes tension or stress itself, but a very simple, hopefully ordinary capacity to care. As we come out of this meditation, may this potential we have to care for the world in simple and easy ways become a force, a power of its own, to make this world a better place for all beings. May the deep feeling of okayness, that nothing needs to happen, allow a wellspring of selfless action, caring for the world.

[Music]