Earlier, I described timelessness as consciousness stripped bare—awareness without objects, unfettered by time’s constraints. This state marks the threshold between lower and higher modes of being in the world. Those trapped in Victim or Controller mindsets rarely encounter it, but when they do, something shifts. A door cracks open. Without fully understanding why, they begin incorporating elements of spiritual maturity into their lives. The journey toward becoming an Acceptor and Co-Creator has silently begun, carried forward by that first taste of the timeless.
When we see ourselves as victims or attempt to manage our problems through control, it’s because we view the world as a threat. This perception creates a sense of isolation, making us feel lonely, insignificant, and disconnected. Every anxious person experiences this sense of separation from the world. The dominant emotion in this situation is fear. We don’t understand “the other,” the world beyond ourselves. What we don’t understand feels threatening; its nature seems unpredictable, and its rules often appear illogical to us. Our response to this situation is either a sense of helplessness or a futile attempt to control “the other.” Seeing ourselves as separate from the world and experiencing this duality are key contributors to lower behavioral patterns. But is our perception accurate? Does it truly reflect reality?
The well-known quote from Thomas Aquinas states: “Quidquid recipitur, ad modum recipientis recipitur.” Translated, this means: “Whatever is received is received according to the mode of the receiver.” Our perception shapes how we see the world. If it appears divided between ourselves and the external, perhaps that division originates within us. The receiver’s perspective, regardless of reality’s true nature, shapes their own reality. This concept is also found in ancient Vedic texts. The Rg Veda (1:164:39) conveys: “richo akshare parame vyoman,” which can be freely translated as: “Knowledge varies according to different states of consciousness.”
What exactly constitutes this “mode of the receiver”? What state of consciousness creates the illusion of separation between self and world—a division that breeds fear and perceived threat?
To understand this, consider the three elements required for any cognitive experience: a perceiving subject, a perceived object, and the process of perception itself that connects them. These three components form the foundation of how we experience reality.
I am (the subject) experiencing (the process) the world (the object). These three components are present in every act of perceiving or experiencing.
In essence, both Thomas Aquinas and the ancient Vedic texts point to the same truth: our consciousness filters reality through its own unique lens. But what exactly are these filters that shape how we perceive the world around us?
We’re not concerned with how perception happens, but rather what the perceiver takes away from what is perceived. Consider a flower: one person might see its color, another might inhale its fragrance, while a third might feel its petals. These different approaches all generate unique experiences within the perceiver—what we might call knowledge. But when we talk about receiving “according to the mode of the receiver,” we’re pointing to something deeper. Even when two people use the same sense—say, both smelling the same rose—they create entirely different internal experiences. This diversity of interpretation, not the diversity of senses, is what truly matters.
At the heart of focus is the receiver, the individual experiencing the sensation. When two people smell a rose, each will form a unique experience and understanding. One person might find joy in the scent, while another might be moved to tears, reminded of a sorrowful memory. This is where, at the receiver’s level, lies the reason some individuals see the world as threatening and tailor their responses accordingly.
What makes us see the world as something that threatens our very being?
This goes deeper than the surface-level variations in perception caused by our individual histories. Whether you experienced childhood trauma or lived through devastating events matters less than you might think. What’s crucial is understanding the fundamental mechanism at work within our consciousness itself—a mechanism almost no one escapes. The process is straightforward yet profound: when we perceive anything, that perceived object temporarily “overlays” our pure awareness. The object doesn’t merely interact with our consciousness—it masks it, pressing its imprint onto the clean slate of our being.
Still struggling with this concept? Consider this: have you ever directly experienced your own consciousness, without any objects to perceive? Most people find this question perplexing. “Experience pure consciousness? That sounds paradoxical,” they might say. Yet it’s not only possible—it’s remarkably accessible. The subject (which is nothing but consciousness itself) can indeed be experienced directly. The tragedy is that most people remain unaware of both this possibility and the straightforward method to achieve it.
It shouldn’t happen this way, especially for those who are leaving or for those considering stepping down. The process of creating a sense of timelessness is crucial and cannot be ignored. Pure consciousness, free from any shadows, naturally provides a timeless experience because it lacks the boundaries imposed by objects. When consciousness contains anything other than itself, it becomes restricted by that content. It connects to something, an object or an experience, which is bound by time and defined by certain characteristics. This is true for any typical experience. Look around, and your senses fill your consciousness with information. Think about something, and your consciousness is again occupied, this time with content from your memory or newly created thoughts. Inevitably, you must position this content within the constructs of time and space.
Now imagine there is no content, but the consciousness stays awake. Like a vast, pristine mountain lake at dawn—perfectly still, reflecting nothing but clear sky, yet vibrantly alive with potential. No ripples of thought disturbing its surface, no images captured in its depths, just pure, luminous awareness extending in all directions. Neither sleeping nor dreaming, but alert and receptive. Can you imagine this boundless clarity that is both empty and completely full?
In theory, it’s possible, but the key lies in actually experiencing such a state. This is essential to complete your preparation for communicating with the Wholeness via synchronicity. Naturally, the freeing sensation of timelessness brings numerous other advantages. The most wonderful aspect is how effortlessly you can enter this state.
The timeless experience can be achieved through the proper practice of silent meditation. While the term “meditation” is widely recognized, few truly understand it. Many people have varying misconceptions about meditation, making it essential to focus on a genuine understanding of what it truly entails. I will outline some key aspects of this process. Although true meditation is best learned through personal interaction (and I will explain why), without grasping the process and having the experience necessary to achieve it, it’s impossible to truly alter the feeling of threat from a hostile universe. You can adjust your mindset or attempt to change the beliefs that govern your life, but only when you realize that absolutely nothing endangers the consciousness that defines you will you be genuinely open, allowing a connection with Wholeness through synchronicity to be possible.
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Chapter from the book “Synchronicity – The Wholeness Awakening”.
Also read the following chapter: “The East and the West: The Origin of Meditation”
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