Seeking Awakening: The Endless Search for What's Already Here

Many people who become interested in spirituality eventually find themselves searching for what is often called awakening or enlightenment.

It can be imagined in different ways: a profound realisation, the end of suffering, a state of peace, the disappearance of the separate self, or finally understanding what life is really about. Whatever form it takes, there's usually something compelling about the possibility.

But before going any further, there's a simpler question worth asking.

What are we really looking for when we seek awakening?

When we want something, we naturally tend to focus on the thing we want. But sometimes it's more revealing to ask what we imagine having it will give us.

If I want awakening, what do I expect to be different afterwards? Will I finally be at peace? Will fear disappear? Will I stop struggling with myself, feel whole, or find that the search is finally over?

There isn't a right answer. We can only look for ourselves.

Underneath the search for awakening, there may be a more familiar longing: the feeling that something is missing now, together with the hope that something in the future will finally resolve it.

Notice what happens when awakening becomes a destination.

Here I am.

There is awakening.

And between the two is a distance I need to cross.

I may feel I need to meditate more, understand more, find the right teacher, have the right experience, become more present or get rid of my ego. None of these things is necessarily a problem in itself, but what happens when we begin to question the search itself?

What tells me I'm not already where I need to be? What does that sense of distance actually consist of?

Is it a thought, an image of myself, a feeling in the body, or a comparison between what's happening and what I imagine should be happening?

Rather than trying to answer these questions, we can look at what's actually taking place.

Seeking isn't only an idea. It can be felt.

Take a moment and notice what happens when you imagine finally getting something you deeply want. There may be a reaching towards it, a sense of anticipation, a subtle tension, or a feeling that this moment is somehow insufficient and another one would be better.

Where do you experience that? What's happening in the body?

And what happens if, just for a moment, you don't try to change any of it?

There's no need to stop searching or tell yourself you shouldn't want anything. Just notice what seeking is actually like. The thoughts, the sensations, the expectation, and the one who seems to be waiting for something to happen.

This brings us to another question.

Who is the one who wants to awaken?

We can answer that very quickly. "Me."

But what does that mean? Rather than supplying a philosophical answer, can we explore the experience itself?

Where is this "me" that's going to become awakened? Is it found in thought, in the body, in a particular sensation, or somewhere behind the eyes? Is it something stable, or does the experience of being "me" change from moment to moment?

There's no conclusion we need to reach. We're looking at something we usually take for granted.

And then there's another possibility.

What if what we're ultimately searching for isn't something that can be produced by the search? What if peace, wholeness, or whatever word we give to our deepest longing isn't waiting at the end of a spiritual journey?

What if what we're looking for is, in some way, already here?

There's no need to accept that as an answer. We can look.

There's breathing, sensation, sound and thought. Whatever is happening in the body, whatever is happening around you, and the simple fact that all of this is already being experienced.

Nothing needs to be added to this moment for us to explore it.

Maybe we can begin by questioning the assumptions contained in the search itself, rather than trying to find the right answer.

What am I looking for? What do I believe it will give me? Who is the one who's looking?

And is what I'm looking for actually absent?