8. The Experience of No "I Am"
When the “I” belief evaporates, the words “I Am” or “me” no longer have any resonance: all sense of existence and identity are gone forever. There also is no longer any sense of awareness, consciousness or “presence” which could be connected to or labelled as “I Am” by which the illusion could take hold. The very notion of “I Am” no longer arises, just as the notion that there is a separate ego or “self” no longer arises once the first step on the path is taken. Though prior to this transition it seemed as though the words “I Am”stated or referred to an incontrovertible fact, they quickly become as meaningless as did descriptions of the separate “self”.
As a result, phrases like “I Am Everything” or “I Am Nothing” no longer ring true or make any sense either. If someone still resonates with the idea that “I Am Everything”, or the notion that there is an “I” but it is empty, the “I Am” illusion is clearly still hanging on, and the exploration continues. Similarly, if there still seems to be something called “awareness”, “consciousness” or “presence”, the inquiry is obviously not complete.
Once the “I Am” is gone, there is still (for lack of a better word) “experience” or “life” that continues to happen - we eat, think, cross the street, talk with friends, and otherwise get on with life. It’s just that there is no longer any scent or sense of “me or “I”. What I tell people is that, in the end, everything and everyone else is still there, in whatever way they are, except for “me”. Going beyond “I Am” can be a bit disorienting at first: for example, many experience the sense of “looking for a place to land”, a purpose which the “me” once filled, and at first it feels like being untethered or ungrounded, rather than simply feeling free. Once this paradigm shift settles in, though, since nothing is created or added which must be integrated into life, “what’s left” simply becomes the new normal.
Though this transition is a fairly smooth one for most people, there are many who experience quite a bit of turbulence, and even intense suffering. This is because the illusion that “”I Am” can serve to stifle, reconcile, rationalize or otherwise manage trauma, particularly trauma from childhood. One way of describing it is that traumatic experiences are allowed to become part of “who I am”, by which they are no longer revisited, but instead incorporated, repressed or ignored. When all sense of “I” or “me” is gone, the trauma no longer has any illusory structure to contain it, and it simply comes out. This, for some, can be a very rocky experience, with various physical, mental and emotional manifestations. It can seem as though all of the ways in which trauma was dealt with are now gone, and to some extent that is true. And yet, everyone I know has come through that experience, and has a fuller understanding of what the unresolved trauma was.
In the fetters approach, the “I Am” is the eighth of ten fetters, thus there are two more steps to go prior to suffering finally ceasing. These steps might be described as finally coming to grips with why we created the illusion of a “me” or “I” in the first place, namely due to unrealistic expectations we have about the nature of experience and wanting it to be something other than it is. For example, we tend to want to have an essence or identity that can be definitively known, for there to be some aspect of experience that is owned, lasting, controllable or innate, and to know that we will always feel good regardless of what is happening. The “I Am” once seemed to fill those needs: there was a sense of irrefutably knowing “I Am That I Am”. It might be described as though there was an intimacy or inner life that seemed inherent or innate to existence.
Why that all seemed so real is often only seen in retrospect when inquiring into the ninth fetter, in that the restlessness and urge to compensate for those unrealistic beliefs can fully emerge once the “I Am” is gone. As one person describes it, “the sense of “I am” was created out of pure desperation, because there was nothing substantial and permanent to hold onto, and nothing that could make sure that I'd always feel good. That was what the restlessness was looking for. And so it simply created something - the sense of ‘I am’”.
As above, our unrealistic beliefs or assumptions might also be revealed by a tendency to see the state of "direct experience" as a more real or true description of what is happening, contrasted with what is presumed to be the illusion of the doorways and walls in everyday daily life. Temporary states of deep meditation, such as in the dhyanas or formless spheres, are also possible ways in which what we want to be the case in daily life leads to a preference to stay in those pleasant “states”.
If we drop all belief in some sort of identity or “I”, we can start to see that what is simply happening right now can be (and is!) fine. Daily life isn’t ever perfect or delightful, but there is no other deeper, more real or more meaningful version available either. It is essentially a matter of first realizing what our unrealistic expectations are and accepting that they are unrealistic, and then rooting them out so we no longer resist in any way what is simply happening. When all resistance ceases, suffering ceases as well. Simple, everyday experience, with all of its interpretations and representations, and its signs and symbols, is therefore the “place” to engage in spiritual practice, and also where we remain once fully awake.
As a result, phrases like “I Am Everything” or “I Am Nothing” no longer ring true or make any sense either. If someone still resonates with the idea that “I Am Everything”, or the notion that there is an “I” but it is empty, the “I Am” illusion is clearly still hanging on, and the exploration continues. Similarly, if there still seems to be something called “awareness”, “consciousness” or “presence”, the inquiry is obviously not complete.
Once the “I Am” is gone, there is still (for lack of a better word) “experience” or “life” that continues to happen - we eat, think, cross the street, talk with friends, and otherwise get on with life. It’s just that there is no longer any scent or sense of “me or “I”. What I tell people is that, in the end, everything and everyone else is still there, in whatever way they are, except for “me”. Going beyond “I Am” can be a bit disorienting at first: for example, many experience the sense of “looking for a place to land”, a purpose which the “me” once filled, and at first it feels like being untethered or ungrounded, rather than simply feeling free. Once this paradigm shift settles in, though, since nothing is created or added which must be integrated into life, “what’s left” simply becomes the new normal.
Though this transition is a fairly smooth one for most people, there are many who experience quite a bit of turbulence, and even intense suffering. This is because the illusion that “”I Am” can serve to stifle, reconcile, rationalize or otherwise manage trauma, particularly trauma from childhood. One way of describing it is that traumatic experiences are allowed to become part of “who I am”, by which they are no longer revisited, but instead incorporated, repressed or ignored. When all sense of “I” or “me” is gone, the trauma no longer has any illusory structure to contain it, and it simply comes out. This, for some, can be a very rocky experience, with various physical, mental and emotional manifestations. It can seem as though all of the ways in which trauma was dealt with are now gone, and to some extent that is true. And yet, everyone I know has come through that experience, and has a fuller understanding of what the unresolved trauma was.
In the fetters approach, the “I Am” is the eighth of ten fetters, thus there are two more steps to go prior to suffering finally ceasing. These steps might be described as finally coming to grips with why we created the illusion of a “me” or “I” in the first place, namely due to unrealistic expectations we have about the nature of experience and wanting it to be something other than it is. For example, we tend to want to have an essence or identity that can be definitively known, for there to be some aspect of experience that is owned, lasting, controllable or innate, and to know that we will always feel good regardless of what is happening. The “I Am” once seemed to fill those needs: there was a sense of irrefutably knowing “I Am That I Am”. It might be described as though there was an intimacy or inner life that seemed inherent or innate to existence.
Why that all seemed so real is often only seen in retrospect when inquiring into the ninth fetter, in that the restlessness and urge to compensate for those unrealistic beliefs can fully emerge once the “I Am” is gone. As one person describes it, “the sense of “I am” was created out of pure desperation, because there was nothing substantial and permanent to hold onto, and nothing that could make sure that I'd always feel good. That was what the restlessness was looking for. And so it simply created something - the sense of ‘I am’”.
As above, our unrealistic beliefs or assumptions might also be revealed by a tendency to see the state of "direct experience" as a more real or true description of what is happening, contrasted with what is presumed to be the illusion of the doorways and walls in everyday daily life. Temporary states of deep meditation, such as in the dhyanas or formless spheres, are also possible ways in which what we want to be the case in daily life leads to a preference to stay in those pleasant “states”.
If we drop all belief in some sort of identity or “I”, we can start to see that what is simply happening right now can be (and is!) fine. Daily life isn’t ever perfect or delightful, but there is no other deeper, more real or more meaningful version available either. It is essentially a matter of first realizing what our unrealistic expectations are and accepting that they are unrealistic, and then rooting them out so we no longer resist in any way what is simply happening. When all resistance ceases, suffering ceases as well. Simple, everyday experience, with all of its interpretations and representations, and its signs and symbols, is therefore the “place” to engage in spiritual practice, and also where we remain once fully awake.