no doubt

Reading time...

This little book is an inquiry into the boundaries of knowing, knowledge, and belief. What can we truly know? What knowledge is valid? And what do we merely believe?

This is knowing:

The sound of the heater. My fingers on the keyboard. Outside, through the window in front of me, the sun shines. Attention shifts. One thing after another comes into focus. I feel a bit nauseous. There's a vague pain in my lower back. There's the heater again. My eyes move from screen to keyboard to window.

Knowing is simply experiencing life, our manifest reality, without comments, judgements and beliefs that appear to be "separate" from what is experienced. In stead of experiencing the tree and, next to that, commenting that the tree is beautiful, there is the experience of the tree, perhaps including the experience of commenting - as one flow. There appears to be no separation between the tree, the seeing and also the thoughts happening, all at once. Knowing and being are then one and the same. I am what's happening: colors, shapes, sounds, feelings and thoughts - one stream, one continuous experience.

By the way, knowing is here set in a different typeface to differentiate it with the "normal" knowing that results in what's called "knowledge", the things we "know" or think we know, like the knowledge of the natural world, of technology and science, and so on.

Knowing is a shift of attention toward what is directly present. The experience of THIS moment. My actual — mostly wordless — experience of this moment is the only thing I truly know. This, to me, is the truth Sengts'an speaks of, being (aware of) what I am: this experience.

I know it sounds like mumbo-jumbo. But that's just because language cannot ever convey what is meant here. And perhaps I shouldn't even try: “Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, darüber muss man schweigen” (however, it might resonate anyway).

As I use the term here, "knowing" is more closely related to seeing, insight, and clarity — a moment of pure presence. Knowing is direct and wordless. It doesn't generate knowledge and it leaves no memory behind — the moment, after all, is constantly changing.

English does not distinguish between knowing-the raw experience of this moment - and knowing as it is commonly used. In Dutch, I can use the distinction between "weten" and "kennen".

In English, I could use the word "seeing", which is often used in circles around what's known as the "Headless Way" (Douglas Harding, Richard Lang). J. Krishnamurti used the term "Choiceless Awareness". Other descriptions include "Being", "Presence" (often with a capital letter), or even "meditation". There's also "being in the zone", and "being in the space".

These words may sound mystical, but the experience is in fact very simple and ordinary. You're quiet (or not), you're consciously present, you observe, and there is knowing. There's a pause in the thinking mind. There's just experiencing. And everyone knows this, nothing special — no capitals needed. It's so natural, so everyday, that we mostly overlook it. But in truth, everyone 'knows' like this many times a day.

In knowing, I merge with the moment. This direct, immediate knowing and the moment itself are one and the same, indistinguishable — a seamless flow of experience. You could just as well say that the moment knows, or that the experience itself is knowing.

There's no separate "I" in this knowing. No me thinking (though thoughts may arise). Knowing is passive and yet utterly alive and vibrant. All living beings know like this — including newborn infants.

In this inquiry, "knowing" is contrasted with "Thought". Thought arises from interpreting direct observation. It covers the entire field of what we think we know, and includes what we call "knowledge" as well as "belief". These are the constructs of a mind-embedded human animal, living in a human society.

For example, I might have the idea that I am doing something called "seeing", and that I am seeing a tree. But "I", "seeing", and "tree" are all imagined constructs. The raw experience of seeing the tree doesn't distinguish between subject, action, and object. In knowing, there's no "I", no "tree", and no "seeing".

Thought consists of language — of naming, wording, and interpreting. It is always a step behind: a commentary.

Knowing is now. Immediate. Wordless.

THIS is it. Just that. And there's nothing I need to do. I can't even do anything about it. The world, this life, is already here. The clock ticks above the fireplace. I see my fingers tapping on the keys. Sometimes they pause for a moment, then go on. Oops, a spelling mistake. Tap, tap, tap.

Thought tries to capture experience in words — but words and concepts cannot contain experience. That doesn't mean they're useless — far from it. Our society would fall apart if words and concepts were to disappear. Without language, there would be no science, no technology, no culture, no communication.

Within the field of thought, we can distinguish between knowledge and belief. Simply put: knowledge comes with evidence, belief does not. Both are linguistic in nature, both can be put into words — unlike raw experience, unlike knowing.

Thought always relies on memory.
Knowing, on the other hand, leaves no trace.

Beware, knowing is not the same as what I call "Darkness". Knowing is seeing/being This, apparent Reality as it appears right now in experience. "Darkness" is a personal term I use for not-This, for the "Silence" that is experientially beyond/below/inside, even as This.

Darkness is not part of Reality. It does not exist. This exists - and is completely obvious and "in your face". Darkness can only be assumed. Experiencing is "infused" with Darkness. Knowing and Darkness are like two sides of the same coin: the Manifest and the Unmanifest. Being and Non-being. The particle and the field. Life and Death. It's there somehow, but you cannot know it.

"Darkness" is the subject of a separate part of this website.