Welcome, friends.
A mystery at the heart of existence unfolds quietly across the vast space of earth, sky, and all that lies unseen between them. From the stillness of pure awareness, something begins to move. Like calm waters stirred by an unseen wind, consciousness forgets its source and takes shape, becoming thought, identity, and experience.
In this movement, the silent observer—formless, untouched—enters the dream of life. What was once still and whole becomes fragmented into stories, roles, and reactions. The eternal witness seems to disappear, but it’s never gone. It’s simply hidden beneath the ever-changing surface of the mind.
The mind is just a shadow that arises when consciousness is not present—not as the thought but as the one watching. It becomes absorbed in its projections like Narcissus, entranced by his reflection in the stream. Captivated by its own image, it can’t look away. The observer becomes the actor, caught in the script, and the dance of life begins.
The Bicycle of the Mind
Picture the mind as a finely crafted bicycle—precision, speed, and movement incarnate. It traverses the terrain of time and space, from memories to dreams, desires to doubts. It is always in motion: from point A to B, B to C, never pausing, never still.
Now, imagine the rider—consciousness itself—seated upon this vehicle. At first, it is aware of its own seat, the feel of the handlebars, and the path beneath. But soon, mesmerized by the motion, hypnotized by the rhythmic hum of thought, the rider forgets himself. It believes it is the bicycle. It no longer rides; it is being ridden.
The eternal, formless essence becomes bound by spokes and gears, lost in the pedaling, the pushing, the endless striving.
Ah, but there is a secret whispered by the sages and echoed in the silence of mountains:
Stop pedaling.
Yes—cease.
Let the wheels spin to stillness.
Let the momentum fade.
The mind is movement; it feeds on activity. Like a bicycle, it topples when not in motion. So, too, the ego—dependent on doing, addicted to becoming—fears stopping.
But to stop is not death. That stillness the ego fears is not the end but the return. The end of grasping, not the end of being. What the ego calls death is really the quiet undoing of the illusion. It is a homecoming, not a loss.
Perhaps when the rider dismounts and rests, something miraculous occurs:
The bicycle becomes once again what it always was—a tool, a servant. Not the master.
And the rider remembers: I am not the mind. I am the one who observes it.
"Consider the paradox: to become effortless, great effort is required. It's a truth that mirrors the perfect climb in the Tour de France—a defining feature of the spiritual path."
Great effort is needed to reach effortlessness.
Strain leads to surrender.
Discipline dissolves into grace.
It is not about forcing stillness but about preparing the ground where stillness can arrive. We practice not to attain something but to wear out the very idea of attainment. Slowly, the door tires, and in its exhaustion, something softer opens—what was always present, waiting in the quiet.
How do you reach this effortlessness?
By becoming deeply, radically aware—without attaching awareness to any object.
No scenes, no thoughts, no dramas to chase—just the clear, unclouded sky of witnessing.
Awareness that needs no anchor. Like a breeze that brushes across the skin and then leaves no trace.
Homecoming
Understand this: the bicycle has its place.
It is your chariot through the city streets of form and function—
to work, the market, the forest trails, and a Sunday morning stroll in the park.
But when the journey is done, when the destination is no longer a point on a map but a return to Being—it is time to dock the bicycle.
Time to remove the helmet, stretch your limbs, and return inward.
There is a home within you untouched by gears and chains.
There, the mind no longer roars like a storming ocean but rests as the sea rests when the winds subside.
There, the wave remembers it is water.
The rider remembers they are not the ride.
You are the master.
The mind, the bicycle, the wave—these are your instruments.
Play them. Ride them. But never forget: You are not them.
You are the stillness before motion, the silence beneath thought, the one who watches the world and remains unshaken.
Now, breathe.
Dismount.
And come home to yourself.
Visit nycfitliving.com to begin your journey toward a deeper understanding and to cultivate genuine happiness and well-being through fitness, mindfulness, and stress management.
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