Meditative Self-Inquiry with Cynthia Overweg, September 21, 2025
It was a sunny, but windy afternoon. After some discussion about whether or not to gather indoors or outside on the lawn, we agreed to try outside. The meeting began with a few minutes of silence and a suggestion that as part of our inner silence, we give attention to the diversity of sounds that nature provides. As if on cue, a seagull’s repeated cawing filled the air, followed by the croaking of a raven. Then came a sudden gust of wind which caused significant rustling in the trees, sending leaves falling to the ground. Along with the leaves, a participant’s hat blew away in the wind, but was quickly recovered, and we all had a good laugh. Ten people were present.
It was noted that it’s nearly impossible not to name what we hear. Although listening with attention is different from our ordinary way of listening (or of not listening), the naming of what we hear is automatic. Is it possible, for instance, to listen to a raven or a seagull without thought and language interfering, if only for a second? Can we listen to a familiar sound without a name attached to it?
One participant felt that indeed it is possible to listen without naming, and that Krishnamurti pointed to it. But it can come about only with a totally silent mind in which the movement of thought has temporarily ceased and an image of what is heard does not arise from memory. It may be a rare occurrence, but possible nonetheless. It may also be possible that in silent listening the naming of what is heard may appear and then dissolves in the silence.
We then moved to a reading from The Book of Life, titled “Live the Four Seasons in a Day.” The main theme of the reading is the beauty of the present moment and the importance of observing the contents of one’s own mind. Quoted here is the last paragraph, which sums it up:
“We consider the present as a means to an end, so the present loses its immense significance. The present is the eternal. But how can a mind that is made up, put together, understand that which is not put together, which is beyond all value, the eternal? As each experience arises, live it out as fully and deeply as possible; think it out, feel it out extensively and profoundly; be aware of its pain and pleasure, of your judgments and identifications. Only when experience is completed is there a renewal. We must be capable of living the four seasons in a day; to be keenly aware, to experience, to understand and be free of the gatherings of each day.”
The group probed Krishnamurti’s metaphor of living the four seasons in one day and his suggestion that with inner awareness of the totality of an experience, whatever it may be, there can be self-understanding, and in that understanding, there is “renewal,” represented by spring. It suggests a flowering that makes living in the present moment possible, at least temporarily.
We then pivoted to what prevents us from living fully in the present moment. Yes, the conditioned mind, which is always thinking, planning, judging or strategizing is in the way, along with the many tiers of authority that run our lives. One participant noted the importance once again of self-observation, but wondered if there might be something hidden in our conditioning that we don’t see or don’t want to see?
There was some discussion about how so much of our day is filled with activity with very little room left for inner silence. A participant wondered if our daily busyness helps the mind to avoid or escape from “what is,” especially when “what is” happens to be discomfort, conflict or upheaval in one form or another. Few of us are willing to look into the depths of ourselves, another participant stated. Why? What holds us back?
As a way of exploring this, an insight of Krishnamurti’s was offered. He said: “Fear is what makes us accept our conditioning.” This prompted a lively exploration of the psychological fears that we all struggle with, such as our individual and collective desire to belong; to avoid loneliness; to be loved; to be part of a “tribe,” and the “othering” that is derived from that. The “us” against “them” contagion that constantly roils human affairs. We agreed that the shadow of fear, or what Krishnamurti called, “the worm of fear” is pervasive and not well understood.
Perhaps the biggest fear, it was offered, is the dissolution of the mind-made “me.” This ties-in with Krishnamurti’s profound insights about psychological death. It gave the group fertile ground for further exploration. The meeting ended with several minutes of silence.
By Cynthia Overweg
