A second philosophical article, equally foundational to everything The Aligned Shift represents. A reflection on consciousness, language, and what remains when we stop searching. 2/4
Especially the image of the tree stayed with me. There is something profoundly reassuring in the idea that life does not need to force itself into becoming what it already carries within itself. It is a natural process, not forced.
Also your words about “zombie doing” I recognize. There is a way of living that many of us seem to fall into almost without noticing: waking up, working, consuming, sleeping, and starting again the next day. Life progresses, responsibilities are fulfilled, things get done, yet somehow we are not fully inhabiting the life we are living.
My own version of this zombie doing looked somewhat different, but perhaps belonged to the same family of zombies, let me explain via analogy:
In The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry there is a drawing from Expury as a child that adults see as a hat, while Expury sees what it really is: a snake that has swallowed an elephant. That image stayed with me because I saw something of my own way of living in it. It had a symbolical meaning:
For a long time, everything I experienced had to pass through my intellect. Thinking was not only something I used; it became the primary way in which I met the world. I understood before I felt. I analysed before I experienced. I searched for meaning before I allowed something simply to be. The intellect became my orientation system, my way of finding safety and coherence.
The snake represents this intellect. The elephant represents something deeper: the living impulse itself — feeling, intuition, spontaneity, creativity, the movement of life that does not first need an explanation.
The difficulty was not that the snake existed. The snake is a beautiful and necessary capacity. It gives language, insight and understanding.
The difficulty was that everything had to go through the snake. The elephant could not simply walk. It had to be explained, interpreted and understood before it was allowed to move.
Perhaps that was my own form of zombie doing: not living mechanically through work and routine, but living one step removed from life itself, through reflection.
The movement now for me is not to get rid of intellect, but to restore its place. The snake does not need to disappear. It needs to walk alongside the elephant. Thought can become a servant of life instead of the gatekeeper through which all of life must pass.
This is also why your image of the tree speaks to me so much. A tree does not think itself into growth. It participates in the conditions of life and responds. It grows from being.
Your notion of beingly living also reminds me strongly of the Taoist idea of wu wei: not non-action, but action without forcing. Doing that emerges naturally from alignment with what is.
There is also something in your sentence:
“I am consciousness of being.”
that makes me reflect.
For me, the “I” here is a necessary and beautiful construction. It is everybodies identity through which consciousness moves in the world: we need it to relate, choose and take responsibility.
But consciousness itself seems for me larger than this constructed “I”. The “I” is something that appears within consciousness, just as thoughts, emotions, memories and sensations appear within consciousness.
Everything that can be observed is not completely identical to the observer. So when I remove the word “I” for a moment, what remains is perhaps something much harder to name.
Not an object.
Not a thing. But also not construct “I”.
More like an open awareness in which life continuously appears.
And perhaps that is why presence is a keyword for me.
For me, presence is not only looking inward. It is being available to what emerges in the meeting itself: with another person, with nature, with beauty, with pain, with life.
This is where Buber speaks to me:
“All real living is meeting.”
To meet means to be present enough not to immediately reduce what appears to an explanation. But to stay with it. To feel what wants to emerge.
Your guiding question is:
“From where am I doing?”
And I notice that my own question has slowly become:
“What is trying to emerge here, and can I be present enough to meet it?”
Maybe these two questions, although they use different words, are pointing towards the same place. Perhaps this is one of those moments where I am reminded that the map is not the territory.
Because what I hear in your words, and what I recognize in my own experience, is a movement towards a way of living where doing and being are no longer separated, where action emerges from presence, and where we allow life to express itself through us rather than trying to stand in front of it.
Maybe that is what both of us, in our own language, are trying to point towards. So thanks again for your words… It helps me getting further.
Thank you for this!
Especially the image of the tree stayed with me. There is something profoundly reassuring in the idea that life does not need to force itself into becoming what it already carries within itself. It is a natural process, not forced.
Also your words about “zombie doing” I recognize. There is a way of living that many of us seem to fall into almost without noticing: waking up, working, consuming, sleeping, and starting again the next day. Life progresses, responsibilities are fulfilled, things get done, yet somehow we are not fully inhabiting the life we are living.
My own version of this zombie doing looked somewhat different, but perhaps belonged to the same family of zombies, let me explain via analogy:
In The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry there is a drawing from Expury as a child that adults see as a hat, while Expury sees what it really is: a snake that has swallowed an elephant. That image stayed with me because I saw something of my own way of living in it. It had a symbolical meaning:
For a long time, everything I experienced had to pass through my intellect. Thinking was not only something I used; it became the primary way in which I met the world. I understood before I felt. I analysed before I experienced. I searched for meaning before I allowed something simply to be. The intellect became my orientation system, my way of finding safety and coherence.
The snake represents this intellect. The elephant represents something deeper: the living impulse itself — feeling, intuition, spontaneity, creativity, the movement of life that does not first need an explanation.
The difficulty was not that the snake existed. The snake is a beautiful and necessary capacity. It gives language, insight and understanding.
The difficulty was that everything had to go through the snake. The elephant could not simply walk. It had to be explained, interpreted and understood before it was allowed to move.
Perhaps that was my own form of zombie doing: not living mechanically through work and routine, but living one step removed from life itself, through reflection.
The movement now for me is not to get rid of intellect, but to restore its place. The snake does not need to disappear. It needs to walk alongside the elephant. Thought can become a servant of life instead of the gatekeeper through which all of life must pass.
This is also why your image of the tree speaks to me so much. A tree does not think itself into growth. It participates in the conditions of life and responds. It grows from being.
Your notion of beingly living also reminds me strongly of the Taoist idea of wu wei: not non-action, but action without forcing. Doing that emerges naturally from alignment with what is.
There is also something in your sentence:
“I am consciousness of being.”
that makes me reflect.
For me, the “I” here is a necessary and beautiful construction. It is everybodies identity through which consciousness moves in the world: we need it to relate, choose and take responsibility.
But consciousness itself seems for me larger than this constructed “I”. The “I” is something that appears within consciousness, just as thoughts, emotions, memories and sensations appear within consciousness.
Everything that can be observed is not completely identical to the observer. So when I remove the word “I” for a moment, what remains is perhaps something much harder to name.
Not an object.
Not a thing. But also not construct “I”.
More like an open awareness in which life continuously appears.
And perhaps that is why presence is a keyword for me.
For me, presence is not only looking inward. It is being available to what emerges in the meeting itself: with another person, with nature, with beauty, with pain, with life.
This is where Buber speaks to me:
“All real living is meeting.”
To meet means to be present enough not to immediately reduce what appears to an explanation. But to stay with it. To feel what wants to emerge.
Your guiding question is:
“From where am I doing?”
And I notice that my own question has slowly become:
“What is trying to emerge here, and can I be present enough to meet it?”
Maybe these two questions, although they use different words, are pointing towards the same place. Perhaps this is one of those moments where I am reminded that the map is not the territory.
Because what I hear in your words, and what I recognize in my own experience, is a movement towards a way of living where doing and being are no longer separated, where action emerges from presence, and where we allow life to express itself through us rather than trying to stand in front of it.
Maybe that is what both of us, in our own language, are trying to point towards. So thanks again for your words… It helps me getting further.
Thank you for your reflection on these words of mine Felix! ✨🙏
Thank you for your reflection on this words of mine Felix 🙏✨
Thank you for your precious words Felix!
Your reflection on the article is profound and it is beautiful to see reflection in action. ❤️