Do you remember when life became a problem?
Not a specific problem. Life itself. The feeling that something has to happen later before you can finally relax.
At some point, thought started running the show—planning, imagining, worrying, rehearsing. And the quiet hum of being alive got pushed into the background, like it was something you’d return to someday.
This is a return to that moment—without nostalgia, without fixing, without making “presence” into another goal. Just the direct recognition of what has never left.
Do You Remember When Life Became a Problem?
Do I remember when life became a problem?
At some point as a child, I started to become preoccupied with concerns about what would happen, the future, whether or not I’d get what I wanted.
I started to think abstractly.
I started to imagine things happening that weren’t happening—whether they were fantasy, imagining things I was hoping would happen, or whether they were rumination, thinking of things I didn’t want to happen so I could plan how to avoid them.
At some point, I started to think abstractly.
I started to think of myself in third person at times.
I started to imagine how I would look to others.
I started to think in terms of time.
And when I was very young, this would alternate with moments of presence—immersion, spontaneity, simplicity.
I probably didn’t even notice the transition between experiencing those thoughts and then becoming engulfed in the thoughts, and other moments of just presence, peace, enjoyment, naturalness, exploration, wonder.
When Thought Started Feeling Sticky
Now, for some of us, I was aware. I remember distinctly noticing thoughts and noticing that they had a kind of stickiness to them, that they could kind of suck me in, and that there was something uncomfortable about that whole process.
But at other times, I would be kind of a little lost in thought without realizing it.
Or other times, I would just be more present—playing, whatever I was doing, sitting, laying down—just kind of feeling the hum of presence, the hum of being alive.
And then at other times, I would notice the thoughts trying to suck me in, and I almost felt resistant, like I didn’t want to go there.
I couldn’t help it, and I would just get hypnotized by the thoughts.
So I personally had a lot of different experiences of thought.
I think other people, from what I gather, don’t always notice it as explicitly, but there certainly are times in childhood where there’s presence, and there are times when there’s abstract thought.
When Thought Became the Default
And then at some point, for most people, we find ourselves in this space where most of what’s happening is thought.
Most of what’s happening that we’re experiencing the world as is thought—time—what’s gonna happen later, what happened before, who I am in relation to others, what my problems are.
And we get identified with problems as well, such that we forget that we had a problem, but now we’re just kind of hypnotized with the thoughts about solving it.
So it starts to feel like seeking.
It starts to feel like future orientation.
It can even be framed as something sort of positive—like law of attraction, or a kind of systematized seeking.
Manifestation.
But all this is thought.
By this time, we’re hypnotized all day long with thought.
The Part That Never Left
And the fascinating thing about this is: even as all of this is happening, the part of us, so to speak—the dimension of our experience that is always present—just like when we were a child and we would be in that presence and wonder and exploration and timelessness—that’s been here the whole time.
It’s still here.
In fact, the illusion of time overlaid it—overlaying it.
The illusion of time has distracted our attention.
But that eternal presence is here, always here.
Simple Inquiries That Don’t Add Anything
And just turning my attention to it momentarily—letting my attention rest back in it momentarily—can be enough.
Or I can inquire a bit:
What is it that is always at rest?
What is it that doesn’t move in thought?
What is it that cannot be formulated in thought?
What is it that’s not in time?
What is it that’s right here that doesn’t need to be discovered, that’s not apart from the one contemplating?
What is it that’s right here that’s not even a millimeter away from that which is aware of it?
What’s the one thing I don’t have to find?
Where’s the one place I don’t have to go to because it’s already here?
Without thinking about it.
This is not conceptual. This is experiential.
Before the First Thought, Before the First Time
Where am I before I move anywhere?
Who am I before I entertain a thought about myself?
What am I before I imagine a single shred of time, before I entertain a single thought about time?
Do I feel the presence of that?
Do I notice that that presence—that experience of just this—stands on its own?
It doesn’t require a thought to confirm it.
It doesn’t require another person to confirm it.
It doesn’t require an awakening to confirm it.
It’s self-confirming, self-apparent, self-obvious right now.
Do I see how this that has always been there—this that could never not be there—is my birthright?
It’s my birthright because I was literally born with it, and it has been there since my birth.
The Illusion of Time and the Feeling of Contact
And when we drop the illusion of time, even my birth is right here—because this now, this truth, is eternal.
It’s not subject to time.
So time collapses.
So all times are here.
All times are now.
All iterations are here.
So I’m in contact already.
No matter what I imagine that I’m out of contact with, those thoughts are inaccurate because the contact is complete.
Only thought seems to break the contact into fractured pieces—moments, points in time.
All of that is thought.
It’s all imaginary.
And yet, here this is.
No Labels Needed
And this requires no labeling at all.
If I’m imagining it as some background or space, notice that’s just subtle thought sneaking in.
I don’t need to do that.
That’s thought.
What’s here is not space or awareness or consciousness or presence or Buddha nature.
Those are all just words. So many words.
What is here is what’s here.
And it comes before all labels.
And it will be here eons after all of the thinking apparatus that can label anything is completely obliterated.
Just touch in, and then just stay here.
But not by trying to be static.
Simply honoring what has never been apart from me.
Honoring what has never been enclosed in time.
Honoring what has never been enclosed in space.
This is my true nature.