Self-Inquiry with Hillary Rodrigues, May 17, 2026

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We met on the lawn at Swanwick Centre and began with the question: What is “what-is?” There seems to be different levels of “what-is?” What-is 1: The word, the reaction, the conditioning etc. What-is 2: Looking at the word/reaction choicelessly where “what-is” flowers and dies. What-is 3: Choiceless awareness of “what-is” new, and having an insight. Are there different levels of awareness?

“What-is” is often some aspect of conditioned consciousness. Krishnamurti says, start there. If there is an awareness choicelessly of that, it morphs, it doesn’t remain static. Thought introduces the idea that we need to be doing something other than being aware without conflict. Thought is itself conflict. Choicefulness introduces resistance. Why do we do that? So we can project an idea of what will make us happy in the future? The notion that if we don’t choose right I won’t be happy in the future creates tension and effort. The mind almost always has something to say about what comes in.

For example, looking at a tree with the past knowledge of the tree, we don’t see the tree. There is a subtle fear when looking at the tree through knowledge. The tree is unique in the moment but when we see our reaction to the tree, and then comment on that reaction, we are living in the past. We are naturally afraid because we can’t see the moment. Is this blindness part of fear? Are we afraid because we are missing out on the new? Yet, if we lost our vision suddenly, we would wish to see the tree, and see it afresh if we regained sight.

Can we bring this quality of freshness to the perception of a tree or a thought, a beautiful flower or a beautifully flowering thought? Can we enter a field of curiosity with what is around us? Why might we still think, “I don’t yet have the awareness that I need?” Do we need to have a quiet mind for choiceless awareness? Why the violence and conflict? If nature is so wow, what makes it interesting to attack others? If “what-is” is so cool, why are we moving away from it? Is it the fear of the unknown?

If we are thinking all the time, do we have the energy or space for awareness/insight? Does this wasting of energy in constant thought keep us stuck in conditioned thought, and is this stuckness part of fear? Why is the me there when it’s not needed? Are we caught in the thought-based “what-is” so that we are not sensitive to the “WHAT-IS?” Are we afraid of the unknown or is it that we are not sensitive to the unknown? “I need this thought to keep me comfortable because of fear of the unknown because I don’t know what is coming next.” Can we be afraid of the unknown when we don’t know what it is? Can we live with a quality of sensitivity? Can we ponder the fear of the self vanishing? If there was no more me, would we being doing something differently? What-is is that.

  • Andrea Grey

Self-Inquiry with Hillary Rodrigues, May 14, 2026

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We met at the Pavilion at Gorge Park for another open dialogue gathering with Hillary. After a short period of silence, he invited everyone to listen carefully to one another and also to observe their own inner reactions as the dialogue unfolded.

One participant brought up the question of seeking and change, as Krishnamurti suggested that people may not actually want fundamental change, even while seeking it through spiritual practices, books, retreats, or experiences. This opened a long inquiry into the nature of seeking itself. Are we genuinely searching for the unknown, or simply moving from one familiar comfort to another in the hope of feeling better? Krishnamurti’s invitation to “stay with what is” was mentioned again. As Hillary noted, “The moment you want to move towards better, you’re already caught in psychological time.”

One participant spoke openly about years of self-criticism and the painful inner voices that remained long after receiving judgments from family members. The dialogue then moved into questions of conditioning, self-image, and attack thoughts. The conversation explored the possibility of simply observing them as they appear, without resistance or condemnation, but rather with curiosity.

Several participants shared practical experiences of this kind of observation. One person described noticing an inner voice urging them to “focus” and “pull yourself together,” then suddenly asking, “Who is speaking?” In that brief moment, the usual psychological veil seemed to fall away, leaving only direct perception and a sense of spaciousness. Someone shared an experience from attending a silent Vipassana retreat and gradually seeing how thoughts, bodily sensations, judgments, and reactions are all interconnected. Through silent observation, irritation toward another retreat participant unexpectedly transformed into compassion.

Another participant reflected on time spent in Buddhist monasteries, noting that even spiritual environments are still deeply human, shaped by hierarchy, personality, and struggle. The image of enlightenment as a perfect or permanent state was questioned repeatedly throughout the afternoon.

Toward the end, the atmosphere became lighter again, moving between humour and reflection. There was discussion of impermanence on a cosmic scale — the eventual death of the sun, colliding galaxies, and the vastness of the universe — which brought laughter as well as perspective on the seriousness of our personal dramas.

The gathering closed warmly, with gratitude for the openness of the dialogue and encouragement to continue observing the movement of thought, feeling, and conditioning in daily life.

  • Anastasia Shtamina

Presentation and Inquiry with Hillary Rodrigues, May 10, 2026

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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