Awareness and the Illusion of the Self

Awareness is always of what has already happened.

I become aware of what I see only after the seeing has occurred.
I become aware of what I hear only after the hearing has happened.
I become aware of what I touch only after the touch has occurred.
I become aware of what I taste only after the tasting has happened.
I become aware of what I smell only after the smelling has happened.

I become aware of mental images and mental talk/sounds only after they’ve already appeared. I’ve been calling these thoughts all along, but they arise by themselves, not by my doing.

I become aware of my anger, sadness, dullness, joy and every other kind of emotion after they are already playing out.

I become aware of an intention or readiness to act only after it has already been set in motion.

It seems that almost everything I become aware of has already taken place.

It appears that “I” am not the driver. Instead, “I” seem to follow whatever is already happening, becoming aware of it after the fact. This awareness doesn’t seem to be “my doing” but more like something I happen to notice, similar to how I notice the actions of others. When looked at that way, the stuff that “I” happen to become aware of isn’t happening to me or is directed at me either.

If that’s true, then who is doing it? Who is driving this? For whom is this all happening?

What if there is no doer? What if there is no beer?

The Body-Mind System

Things on the material plane—sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell—happen all by themselves. Even complex tasks, like driving a car, unfold without my active control. Pause for a moment and notice: Is a “self” even necessary for driving? The body-mind system drives the vehicle on its own. We confuse the sensations and actions involved in the process as “me” or “my doing.” Did a toddler ever bother composing a sense of “self” while it figured out smiling, rolling over, or walking? Didn’t it all just happen, all on its own?

Similarly, mental phenomena just arise. Thoughts, feelings, and emotions—they appear by themselves. Sometimes they feel random, and sometimes, when I (whatever that is) am perfectly still, they appear to align in perfect harmony with the situation at hand. For example, the thought (as in mental image) of a dog barking immediately arises when I hear a dog barking. It’s as though everything is in sync.

Causes, conditions, and the laws of nature trigger these sensations, both physical and mental. They arise when needed and fade when no longer necessary.

This entire stream of physical and mental sensations is not “me,” nor is it “mine,” much less “my doing.” It unfolds according to the physics of the universe, like an intricate dance that can’t be controlled, much less be controlled by “me.” There seems to be no “doer.” Everything just happens on its own.

So, who am I?

The body does its own thing. I didn’t create it.

The mind does its own thing. I didn’t invent it either.

The feeling of sensation doesn’t happen “in here” (in my body or brain) but exists “out there,” wherever the object of experience is.

For instance, when I look out the window and see a tree, the experience of seeing the tree isn’t located inside my eyes, or my body, or my brain, or even my mind, but rather the experience of seeing the tree is “out there,” where the tree is. That is to say that the visual feeling of seeing the tree is exactly where the tree is. The same goes for sound, touch, taste, and smell. The feeling of these sensations seems to be spread out all over.

Thoughts about the past show up somewhere “out here.” Thoughts about the future show up somewhere else, but still “out here.”

Whatever I call “me” seems to be scattered across time and space. I’m not located in one place, and I certainly don’t seem to reside solely in my body, or my brain!

While the body might he “here”, other aspects of what I experience like the mind, the perceptions, feeling, and cognition of these, are scattered all over. So, I am not just “in here” – I am also “out all over there.”

So again, who am I?

Perhaps I Am the Space of Awareness

Maybe I am the space in which all of now, past, and future arise and disappear.

Maybe even that is not quite right.

Perhaps I am the quality of awareness itself, the very essence of perception—undivided and inseparable from everything I become aware of.

If I am not separate from all that I am aware of, then perhaps I am either all of it—or none of it.

This seems to be a far better position to take, than being a permanent-and-separate-Prashanth to whom this is all happening, or worse who is making it all happen.

So, what’s the point of this?

The sense of “self” is a constructed illusion. Our experiences unfold naturally, with no distinct doer orchestrating them. What we call “I” is nothing more than the fleeting, ever-changing stream of experiences, interconnected with everything around us.

In this realization, we may discover a freedom beyond personal identification, a liberation in simply being part of the unfolding dance of life.

Okay, so what?

By questioning the illusion of the separate self, we open ourselves to greater clarity, peace, and presence. If we’re not bound by the notion of a fixed “me,” we can experience life with less attachment, less resistance, and more openness to what is.

Let go of the illusory steering wheel; the vehicle is on auto-pilot.

The moment you let go, it feels exceedingly scary. But in time, you will see that you never were in control anyway. Just let the illusion go. The natural intelligence of the universe is doing its own thing; it probably just needed a way to watch that. Collectively, we are just that! The one space of awareness.