Ground State Training

(From my fav book & fav author - Pharmakognosis Dale Pendell RIP)
By ground state we do not mean the ordinary consciousness, nor the way people will say "I'm back to ground state" -that consciousness is just another part of the dream. Ordinary consciousness only seems like the ground state because it is so familiar. And since we communicate with others-we work, eat, ride in the subway, and so forth- we assume, one, that we and everyone else are in the same state of consciousness, and two, that it is some basic, normal, and fundamental condition. While ordinary consciousness, loosely, might legitimately be called "normal", in no way is normal consciousness either basic or fundamental.

You're dreaming again. Wake up.

By ground state, what we mean, on the poison path, is the part that IS fundamental—perhaps we could call it "fundamental mind." Who wouldn't like to know their own fundamental mind? Who wouldn't like to know, intimately, the part that is not mad, the part that is not boorish ego, the part that is not fearful or terrified?

The ground state is serene—what, after all, could perturb it? We say, "I feel grounded" when we are sure of ourselves, or when we have that feeling of solidity—that we are in a state where others' words won't lead us astray, where decisions and like situations won't confuse us. Sometimes we say, "I feel I'm in touch with myself." That is, you know what you feel, and you feel it. Ground state is not at all the same thing as "I," in the sense that "I am so-and-so," that so-and-so likes chocolate but not vanilla, so-and-so likes to wear brown but not green, or so-and-so can dance but not sing. The so-and-so world of ordinary consciousness is filled with grasping: I want that, I'll win this round, I own that, those people frighten me, that's good, that's bad.

Fundamental consciousness, or ground state, is not really different from the grass growing in the meadow, or the birds nesting in the eaves of the barn. It's here all the time, and if it's not the reason many of us started on the path in the first place, hints of the ground state that have been revealed by our poisonous tools have urged us to go further.

In the first place, there must be a keen and sincere desire to seek the Way. For example, someone who wishes to steal a precious jewel, to attack a formidable enemy, or to make the acquaintance of a beautiful woman must, at all times, watch intently for the opportunity, adjusting to changing events and shifting circumstances.

—Dōgen, Shōbōgenzō, in Foster

Ground state training is about discipline and attention. This is a skill we share with hunters—like cats, or maybe frogs. It is simply the power to focus on something for as long as you wish, without getting lost in internal dialog or fantasy. What could be simpler, more useful, or more fundamental? In ancient times the skill of attention was used to master swordsmanship, or archery, or painting. This is still true today.

Ground state training is not about trying to be "high, naturally," it's just about sitting, or walking, or lying down, about just doing that.

The real way circulates everywhere; how could it require practice or enlightenment? The essential teaching is fully available; how could effort be necessary? Furthermore the entire mirror is free of dust; why take steps to polish it? Nothing is separate from this very place; why journey away?

And yet, if you miss the mark even by a strand of hair, you are as distant as heaven from earth. If the slightest discrimination occurs, you will be lost in confusion. You could be proud of your understanding and have abundant realization, or acquire outstanding wisdom and attain the way by clarifying the mind. Still, if you are wandering about in your head, you may miss the vital path of letting your body leap.

—Dōgen, Recommending Zazen to All People, 1227, in Tanahashi

Expertise in this practice was formalized as a system of yogic training in the Indus Valley at least 4,000 years ago. A steatite seal from Mohenjo-Daro, dated 2000 BCE, depicts a cross-legged yogi, wearing horns and surrounded by animals, hinting at shamanic hunting practices of Paleolithic and Neolithic cultures.

So much of hunting is patience.

Yogic techniques developed to include a broad array of practices, from the subtle breath control of the pranayana schools to the bhaktic ganja smoking of the saddhus, from the alchemical energy transmutations of the sexual tantras to the bare-bones, stripped-down mindfulness practice of the Buddhists. Along with the Buddhists, Hindus, and Taoists, the Sufis and the other monotheists have all developed spiritual practices. For the poison path, the Shivaite lineage (which, ultimately, includes Zen) has a particular appeal. For one, we find Shiva adorned with a Datura flower, hinting at his archaic familiarity with plant poisons. Further, his ancient consort, the Shakti, was the Great Goddess herself, the Mistress of Wild Things. The practices of the Neolithic yogis, the "Forest Dwellers," out of which came both the Upanishads and Buddhism, echo the vision quest of indigenous peoples of both North and South America. In the forest they learned from the plants and they ate them, sometimes to the exclusion of meat.

In the West, along with his panther, Shiva joined with the tambourine women, the dancers, and was called Dionysus.

Grant us good luck, Eiraphiotes, maddener of women; we singers salute you at the beginning of our songs, and at the end. Anyone who forgets you forgets his songs also. Farewell, Dionysus Eiraphiotes, and your mother Semele, who is called Throne.

—Homeric Hymn to Dionysus BOEHME AT HIS WORKBENCH, EARLY DUTCH ENGRAVING
[https://latex.gg/share/Dmk5WZti.jpg]

Jacob Boehme, the cobbler, called the ground state "the Unground" (Ungrund), about as precise that way as one can get with a word. For Boehme, the world is a glyph, a signature—the invisible is discerned through the visible.

Thus we recognize the eternal Unground out of Nature to be like a mirror. For it is like an eye which sees, and yet conducts nothing in the seeing wherewith it sees; for seeing is without essence, although it is generated from essence, viz. from the essential life.

—Jacob Boehme, Six Theosophic Points

The visible world and all creation, and, in fact, the Creator, arise from the Unground. The Unground is a void, but not a vacuum. According to Boehme, there is Freedom there—in fact, the Unground seems to be the same thing as Freedom. And perhaps, in this freedom, there is a perturbation, a little twist of fluctuation—a desirous attraction between Nothing and Something. In desire, we can see the spark of Heraclitian fire, the eye of the primordial dragon that turns, trying to see itself.

Taken out of nature, God is a Mystery, that is, in Nothingness; for outside of nature there is Nothing—an eye of eternity, an unfathomable eye which resides in and looks into nothing, because it is the Unground; and this eye is a will, a desire of manifestation to find Nothingness.

—Jacob Boehme, De Signatura Rerum

The desire to come home.

Boehme experienced his first illumination while gazing into a pewter basin of water—what we might call elaeomancy, or scrying. What is important for us, is that his experience followed a long period of acedia, months of spiritual torment and doubt, a condition that teachers dub as "propitious." Boehme left his shop and walked out of town into the countryside. He claimed that the experience lasted no longer than half an hour, but it changed him completely and forever. He spent the rest of his life refining his insight, going deeper, and, in spite of persecution, sharing what he had glimpsed.

Students, even if you gain enlightenment, do not stop practicing, thinking that you have attained the ultimate. The Buddha Way is endless. Once enlightened you must practice all the more.

—Dōgen, in Masunaga