Hi All,
Great discussion!
What I was originally interested in, when writing this post, was the
process of what causes/produces frequent versus infrequent 'scenery'. (Sorry, John, about the confusion re terminology!)
I threw out some questions, because I feel that the 'friction' explanation of scenery - while it might perfectly describe occasional experiences - does not adequately cover the kind of scenery which occurs to us daily. Please correct me, Yogani, if I've missed something, but in the books the emphasis is usually placed instead (and rightly so) on a general underlying infusion of divine love and inner silence as we progress along the path. Nevertheless, daily scenery can and will happen, and I don't remember a specific explanation for it in this respect.
So I have my own ideas and wanted to compare them with all of your own. I think VIL sums it up very nicely with:
VIL wrote:
quote:
So a person may reexperience these types of things over and over again, but it is order for a person to even experience this phenomenon they HAVE TO BE DETACHED.
Exactly:
detached.
That's why I was interested in pursuing examples of scenery first experienced as an isolated event, and then, after further purification of the nervous system, as a regular occurance. In both cases a certain element of
detachment occurs. We've all heard of beginner's luck, and it occurs because we begin as - for lack of a better word - idiots. Without practical experience or even perhaps full knowledge of the particular forces at work in a given practice (yogic or otherwise), we can much more easily enter into it without bias, without our conscious minds setting up barriers. You see the relationship here with
detachment? - In both cases the conscious mind is in the background. Anyway, poof!, we get scenery. From that first experience we lose, or begin to lose our innocence, our conscious mind inevitably setting up an expectation for further experiences, if only by innocuously comparing one sitting with another. (Which, by the way, highlights the need truly to live in the present
now, if we are to escape such pitfalls...) So for a while, perhaps a very long while, our ego prevents further scenery from happening. Then, when we really and truly are detached, we are free again to experience what was always there in the first place. Again and again.
Well, that's my take on it, anyway.