Presentation and Inquiry with Hillary Rodrigues, May 10, 2026

We met outside on the lawn at the Swanwick Centre, where Hillary opened the dialogue by exploring the relationship between Buddhism, Advaita Vedanta, and Krishnamurti’s teachings. The conversation moved naturally between philosophy, personal stories, conditioning, mystical insight, and the mystery of human transformation.

Hillary described Buddhism as a “highly realistic” teaching because it attempts to understand “what truly is, as opposed to what is not… your thoughts are something, but not necessarily referring to realities.” Suffering, he suggested, comes through grasping after ideas and illusions – especially permanence, certainty, and a fixed self. Both Buddhism and Advaita agree that the ordinary psychological self is conditioned and unstable, but Advaita proposes that beneath it lies a deeper reality – Atman or Brahman – while Buddhism generally avoids asserting any eternal essence. Hillary illustrated the Buddhist view with the image of a candle flame: “A candle flame looks like it’s an entity… but it really is more of a dynamic process.” Rebirth, can be seen not only as physical reincarnation, but as the constant psychological birth and death of identities within daily life.

The dialogue repeatedly returned to the paradox of awakening – that “nothing has changed, and everything has changed.” Enlightenment was described less as becoming special and more as the ending of psychological movement away from the present moment. Hillary suggested that mystical realization often feels more like grace than personal achievement, because “the ‘you’ striving for it is the very obstacle.”

The group also reflected on serendipity, karma, and interconnectedness. Hillary shared the story of his father observing a lone peach tree unexpectedly become pollinated by passing bees and later produce abundant fruit. Participants reflected on how many countless encounters and conditions are required for even one human life to exist. Human beings often feel isolated, yet our existence depends completely on everything around us – relationships, history, biology, nature, and invisible forces constantly interacting.

Another important theme was resonance and the role of spiritual teachings. One participant described reading Krishnamurti for the first time and feeling “a deep resonance.” Hillary suggested that a true teacher does not give followers a belief system, but points them toward something already alive within themselves: “A good teacher… points us toward that possibility.”

The dialogue ended not with conclusions, but with shared inquiry, humour, and wonder at the mystery of being alive.

 

  • Anastasia Shtamina

Presentation and Inquiry with Hillary Rodrigues, May 7, 2026

We met at the Gorge Park Pavilion, where Hilary Rodrigues gave an introductory talk on Advaita Vedanta that gradually unfolded into a shared discussion. The exploration focused on the similarities and differences between the teachings of Jiddu Krishnamurti and the non-dual traditions of Advaita, particularly the idea that beneath the apparent diversity of life there is “one underlying essence.”

Hilary shared several stories from the Upanishads, ancient Indian texts that form the basis of Vedanta philosophy. Through various metaphors, the ancient teachings point toward one indivisible reality – Brahman. One story described a father guiding his son toward understanding this through simple examples drawn from ordinary life. Salt dissolved in water could no longer be seen, yet its presence remained everywhere in the water. In the same way, the father suggests that the underlying essence of life may not be visible to the senses, yet it permeates everything. Hilary also spoke about the influence of the philosopher Shankara, whose Advaita interpretations emphasized that the apparent multiplicity of the world is ultimately an expression of one reality. The famous Advaita image of mistaking a rope for a snake in dim light was also explored as a way of understanding how thought and conditioning shape perception. What appears frightening or separate may in fact be projection, created by memory, fear, and conditioning.

While Advaita often points directly toward an ultimate oneness or absolute reality, Krishnamurti seemed more concerned with observing “what is” – the actual movement of conditioning as it arises in daily life. It was suggested that beginning with ideas about enlightenment or “the absolute” can easily become another form of spiritual ambition.

One participant reflected that hearing about enlightenment or permanent peace can create inner conflict, because the mind immediately wants to attain it. In contrast, Krishnamurti’s notion of “choiceless awareness” felt more accessible.

The theme of negation arose through the Advaita “neti, neti” – “not this, not this.” Anything you can perceive or think is not the ultimate Self . So you negate all objects of identification until only pure awareness remains. Even ideas such as “oneness” or “emptiness” may become obstacles if held psychologically.

At one point the discussion moved into the distinction between phenomenon and noumenon – between what can be perceived through the senses and something possibly beyond perception itself. The question arose whether Krishnamurti’s phrase “what is” refers only to observable experience, or whether it also points to something beyond thought and sensation. Hillary clarified that for most of us “what-is” is the movement of our conditioned consciousness.

Related to this was Krishnamurti’s statement that “the observer is the observed.” Hillary explained that the separation between “observer” and “observed” is not fixed or real in itself, but created through thought. Whenever the mind identifies something – for example, “I see a tree” – it automatically creates two things at once: a “tree” as something separate, and a “me” who is seeing it. In this movement of naming and conceptualizing, both the observer and the observed arise together as part of the same process. So “the observer is the observed” means that what we call the observer is not independent – it is shaped and constructed in relation to what is being perceived. The sense of a separate “me” exists only through this ongoing act of division created by thought.

Toward the end, participants reflected on moments of deep absorption playing music, creating art, or being fully attentive, where the sense of a separate self temporarily fades. In such moments, as one participant described, “there is simply the movement itself,” without division between observer and observed.

 

  • Anastasia Shtamina

Presentation and Inquiry with Hillary Rodrigues, May 3, 2026

We met at the Swanwick Centre, outside on the lawn. Hillary Rodrigues, our facilitator for May, began the gathering with a short talk on the similarities and differences between Krishnamurti’s teachings and those of the Buddha, setting the ground for a shared inquiry rather than a formal presentation. Hillary introduced the Four Noble Truths, beginning with the simple observation that “we all experience sorrow,” something inseparable from being alive. Similarly, Krishnamurti often spoke about the sorrow of humanity, asking, “Why is humanity in so much conflict?”

The reasons for suffering were explored through both perspectives. In the Buddha’s teaching, desire is central, while in Krishnamurti’s teaching, thought plays a key role. Hillary pointed to the movement of conflicting identities being constantly reborn in us. Simple examples revealed the subtlety of this process. The movement of saying, “I am impatient, I should be patient,” was seen as creating an inner division. Instead of observing what is present, there is an immediate movement toward becoming something else.

When it was said, “there is no now,” it pointed to how easily the mind turns concepts into something to grasp. Even phrases like “be here now” can become something we try to achieve. And so the question of a path to liberation then came into focus. Buddhism offers structured paths toward liberation, while Krishnamurti states that “truth is a pathless land.” This raised a natural tension. Is any path already based on the assumption of a self moving toward a goal? And yet, without a path, how do we proceed? It was observed that “a path implies movement away from what is,” while at the same time, even the idea of “no path” can become another concept to hold onto.

By the end, the sense remained that both the Buddha and Krishnamurti are pointing to something that cannot be approached through method or time, but only seen directly. Whether in silence or in dialogue, the question stayed alive: can there be a simple, choiceless awareness of what is, in which conflict naturally comes to an end?

  • Anastasia Shtamina

Online Workshop with Jackie McInley “Is there a new kind of learning?”, March 25-29, 2026

We began our 5-day workshop by asking what our motive is behind learning itself. We wondered whether we usually learn about ourselves and the world around us, in order to be secure, safe and in order to know how to behave, act, think or feel. Learning, we realised in our societies, is to know better and to understand more. In fact how much we learn – the group commented – is a proof of intelligence and an indication of recognition and status. We asked ourselves as the workshop progressed, whether there could be a conscious learning that does not involve an attachment to knowledge and the accumulation of memory.

We came to the question of whether there might be a new kind of learning that does not come to conclusions, but that stays open and discovers something new. Is there a learning in observation that realises that the mind is constantly seeking “to know”? Is there a state of mind that consciously notices choosing and identifying as part of its process? Is there a learning that questions the solid sense of “me” preceding experience? We were discovering in the workshop that there was a kind of listening to each other, that came to conclusions and confirmed what we already knew: that confirmed in fact, our very sense of self. We began experimenting in real time – a listening to one another – where learning was taking place in the listening itself. We wondered as our workshop drew to a close whether there is a learning that listens and observes directly: allowing whatever takes place now to unfold, inform and empty?

In this workshop we had not been pursuing an ideal of learning. We were not replacing the “old” learning with ideas of newness inspired by Krishnamurti, yet intrinsically emerging from the same “old” mind. We were discovering the nature and structure of this mind, as we were exchanging and inquiring in group dialogue. Whilst we were actually learning together.

  • Jackie McInley

Meditative Self-Inquiry with Oda Lindner, April 30, 2026

We met at the Gorge Park Pavilion and began in a simple and unstructured way: arriving, exchanging a few words, and then settling into a shared space of attention. Through gentle movement and awareness of the body, the group eased into a deeper inquiry with a central question: how does this exploration relate to our daily lives? Rather than treating meditation as something separate or reserved for quiet moments alone, the dialogue opened the possibility that meditation may be done with eyes open. “We live in this world with open eyes, why meditate with closed eyes?”

From there, the conversation moved into the nature of awareness itself. “When I know that I am aware, I become calmer.”

As the dialogue unfolded, the question of the language, communication and understanding the words differently was brought up. What does it mean to “think together”? Is it possible to listen with such intensity that there is a shared movement of attention, rather than individual interpretations shaped by the past?

The group explored how language both connects and limits us, and whether confusion, so often something we try to resolve quickly, can instead be held and observed without rushing to conclusions. In doing so, confusion itself became part of the inquiry, something alive and revealing rather than a problem to fix.

The conversation also touched on emotions like anger, fear, empathy, and compassion. Rather than judging or suppressing these states, what happens when a feeling is fully experienced without resistance or identification?

Some observed that when there is complete attention, the usual sense of “I am angry” gives way to simply “anger is present,” and in that directness, something shifts. This opened a broader reflection on relationship, whether seeing that we all share similar patterns of struggle and division can naturally bring about compassion.

By the end, the dialogue returned to the question of being together: what is the role of a group in this kind of exploration? Many felt that the shared space revealed aspects of themselves that might remain unseen alone, acting as a mirror through relationship. Yet the inquiry remained open: whether such dialogue can truly move beyond words into a direct perception of life as it is. We left not with answers, but with a sense that this attention, this questioning, is itself the essence of meditation in daily living.

  • Anastasia Shtamina

Meditative Self-Inquiry with Oda Lindner, April 26, 2026

We met at Swanwick Centre outside near the pool, with a couple of new people joining. After a short meditation, Oda introduced a central question for inquiry: What is relationship?

It quickly revealed a paradox: relationship seems to imply both separation and connection. If there were no distance, no distinction, would relationship even exist? Yet without some shared ground, connection would be impossible. This tension opened further inquiry into whether we relate to others directly, or primarily through images and memories. Can we truly relate to someone without the interference of thought? And if we cannot fully know another, or even ourselves, is there a way of relating that does not depend on knowledge?

The conversation deepened by distinguishing between sensing and thinking. Is it possible to be in direct communion with a daisy? If we sense it, can it sense us too?

A pivotal turn came with the question: What is the purpose of relationship? Many observed that relationships are often driven by motive, by seeking something. Can there be relationship without motive? The group explored whether psychological need shapes how we relate, and whether true relationship requires a certain inner wholeness or aloneness. It was suggested that without this, relationship may become transactional. At the same time, relationship itself acts as a mirror through which we come to know ourselves, as Krishnamurti repeatedly pointed out. Is self-understanding possible without relationship?

The inquiry returned to the body, where participants noticed areas of tension—in the chest, and elsewhere. Through attentive observation, there were moments where these tensions softened slightly, suggesting that awareness itself has a transformative quality. This mirrored the earlier question about the mind: can the mind see its own movement clearly enough to become quiet?

Rather than arriving at conclusions, the meeting ended with an open invitation—to remain with these questions, to sense rather than resolve, and to explore whether relationship can be discovered anew, beyond habit, motive, and thought.

To end, a reading from The Urgency of Change by J. Krishnamurti was suggested:

“Can there be relationship if there is no contact, not only physical but at every level of our being, with another? One may hold the hand of another and yet be miles away, wrapped in one’s own thoughts and problems. One may be in a group and yet be painfully alone. So one asks: can there be any kind of relationship with the tree, the flower, the human being, or with the skies and the lovely sunset, when the mind in its activities is isolating itself? And can there be any contact ever, with anything at all, even when the mind is not isolating itself?”

  • Anastasia Shtamina

Meditative Self-Inquiry with Oda Lindner, April 23, 2026

We met at the Pavilion in Victoria. There were two requests for this meeting: to dialogue about curiosity and about relationship.

As in the last few meetings we began with 10 minutes of Bodymeditation, connecting to the body and asking : “Can we feel where the body ends and the space around it begins?”

Exploring tingling and sensations in the body brought us to questions about pain and what it does to both body and awareness. Can we be curious about pain? Is it possible to expand the space around pain through curiosity? One of us was experiencing more severe pain and was pointing out that severe pain does not allow for space and curiosity.

Another then asked if it was possible to see the whole when there is pain. Can we be wit the pain?Can we watch the motives for moving away from pain? Can there be a completeness with the seeing and being with the whole process?

Opening everything up to curiosity, where possible, seems to increase space and awareness. Is it possible to see the whole without attachment or looking for results? At what point do we move away from the whole thing? Can awareness see the whole movement of shifting and changing? Can we stay even with the anger about pain? These all were questions that came up.

We also saw that life moves constantly and seems to be ungraspable. The mind tries to fix a point and grasp it, but it can’t be held down, so the mind begins to see the impossibility of fixing and grasping. It sees the futility of that. Does it then not become quiet, open and curious? Does life then not come from the unknown?

Tying it back to pain we asked: is there the openness even in chronic pain to see how that pain shifts and changes? Is there energy enough to keep up that curiosity?

Finally one of us pointed out that pain is a contraction or concentration of the free flow of life. There is a density of concentration. Can we see this in each other? We are all human and all know these contractions of the free flow of life. Can there come out of this a natural empathy and a way of being with each other?  

 

  • Oda Lindner

Meditative Self-Inquiry with Oda Lindner, April 19, 2026

We gathered on the lawn by the pool at Swanwick Centre, beginning with introductions and a gentle body meditation, feet on the ground, breath, small movements, arriving not only individually but together in a shared sense of aliveness.

From there, we continued from where we left off in the last dialogue, with the question: Can the quality of meditation we experience with life be shared in a group? What is it that keeps us separate?

As we explored, it became clear how easily thought divides through interpretation, memory, and the need to protect ourselves. We saw that analytical thinking can become a defense mechanism, a way to avoid direct contact with experience. This brought another question. What is our shared interest? Is it love and truth, and can it be approached at all through seeking?

The question arose: who is it that is seeing, hearing, or aware? Perhaps every attempt to identify a “who” may itself be another movement of thought. In trying to name or define it, we seem to create separation again. This led to the sense that the observer may not be separate from what is observed, but part of the same movement.

After some analytical explorations, Oda invited us to pause for a short experiment: sitting in silence for 5 minutes, listening and sensing without thought or want. In that stillness, something shifted. For many, there was a quiet clarity, a soft sense of connection with what is, the birds, the breath, the simple fact of being here. For some, unease or anxiety surfaced, as if silence revealed what is often kept at a distance.

Oda shared that a presence of love was felt in that quietness. Not as an idea, but as something directly felt. And perhaps in such moments, a different kind of togetherness appears, a shared presence and connection to all around us.

  • Anastasia Shtamina

Meditative Self-Inquiry with Oda Lindner, April 16, 2026

We met at Esquimalt Gorge Park Pavilion. The exploration began with the question, “Can there be an intent in meditation?” and whether meditation can be something we decide to do, or whether intention already introduces a goal that moves us away from what meditation actually is.

Very early in the dialogue, sport was used as an example: noticing how, in the middle of playing, one can become emotionally involved, caught in winning, losing, and reaction, and yet also be aware of it, and how that awareness changes the quality of the experience.

Participants were then guided through a short body meditation. Afterwards, one participant shared how thoughts were distracting him from simply being with the body, such as noticing the feet, breath, and other sensations.

From there, the dialogue looked at what happens when we say “I want to meditate” and whether that already introduces effort, direction, and a sense of doing. This led to the question, “What is it that we do not do?”

A central inquiry emerged: “Can awareness look at awareness?” and whether awareness can exist without an object of attention at all.

The discussion then turned to the sense of self: “Who is the me who wants to improve myself?” and whether this “me” is anything more than a thought attempting to reorganize itself. Earlier in the dialogue, a question, “What benefit is there in having a ‘me’?” was raised. It opened into the broader question of fragmentation as a possible source of suffering. Another key question was “Does awareness suffer?”, or whether suffering belongs to identification, memory, and fragmentation rather than awareness itself.

The dialogue closed with an open inquiry into whether such seeing, without the interference of the “I”, remains purely individual, or whether there is a possibility of a shared group awareness.

  • Anastasia Shtamina

Meditative Self-Inquiry with Oda Lindner, April 12, 2026

We met outside on the lawn near the pool at the Swanwick Centre to explore meditation together. One participant, deeply influenced by Jiddu Krishnamurti, shared his personal journey, describing meditation as moments of being fully present without thought, often supported by sensations such as sound, breath, and bodily awareness.

He felt he had learned to “stop thinking” at times and saw this as meditation, though he also noticed how frequently thought would return. He connected these experiences to broader ideas about vibration, consciousness, and occasional mystical impressions.

The facilitator gently questioned whether the very act of “trying to be empty” might itself be part of the problem. She invited the group into a simpler, shared exploration: sitting quietly, sensing the body, and observing without effort—allowing silence rather than attempting to produce it.

The dialogue then opened into key themes central to Krishnamurti’s teachings:

– Meditation is not a technique but part of daily living

– Thought is rooted in the past and can distort perception

– True stillness comes not from control, but from understanding the movement of thought

– Seeing the destructive nature of psychological patterns may itself bring about change

The group reflected on fear, responsibility, and whether real change begins within oneself rather than externally.

Overall, the conversation moved from personal experience and seeking toward a shared inquiry into whether meditation is an effortless awareness—free from trying, control, or accumulated knowledge.

 

  •  Anastasia Shtamina