昨天晚上我明白了，每次旅行时什么都不想 （或者即使在想，因为没有工作、没有日复一日的生活，念头来了就来，走了就走）这是一个清空的过程。所以每次旅行回来，回到日常环境，那个”新”的感觉会重新出现。
今天早上，冒出来两个过去的东西。
菜根谭里说，鸟语虫声，总是传心之诀；花英草色，无非见道之文。
这是同一种感觉，fully present。
如何做到这种感觉？Fully present, 天机清澈，胸次玲珑，触物皆有会心处。
任何人都可以。只有空了，这些才能进来，新的才能进来。
博尔赫斯在《博闻强记的富内斯》里写到伊雷内奥·富内斯，说他”毫不费力地学会了英语、法语、葡萄牙语和拉丁语。但我怀疑他并不太有思考的能力。思考，就是忘掉差异，进行概括，进行抽象。”
记得所有，忘不掉任何，反而失去了抽象的能力。那些抽象的连接，是在忘记之后才留下来的。这么看，忘记是一种天赋。
不想了，空了，新的才能进来。
检查方式
对我来说有一个检查方式，觉察自己有没有 fully present。这个很明显，不在状态时眼神会发直，不会打哈欠，脑子乱转。对我最有用的，是调整一下频率，不让眼睛愣神。比如旅行，停下来，没什么可想的，什么也不想。 日常生活里也需要这样的时间，20分钟，什么也不做，什么也不想，没有目的，就是存在。感受存在也不是目的。
什么是新的感觉？
“新”的感觉出现时是旷野感，清晰，看到生活以外的世界，无限的可能性，很宽。混沌时只看到面前十米以内的生活，很窄。
什么是混沌的感觉？
混沌时，身上的”噪音”太强，盖过了一切。比如当我觉察到累了，想连接大地，却连不上。那可能就不适合用”连接大地”这种需要能量去启动的方法。累的时候强行接地，反而更难进去。那种状态下的我，没有 brain power 再去想了。镜头自动缩到最近的十米。这不是我变窄了，是那时的我没能量了。 我一直在用意志力维持日常运转，但没有真正照顾自己。意志力不是能量来源，是能量消耗。对外维持着正常的状态，里面其实很疲惫。
从混沌状态到新状态的调整方法
所以我给自己的解决办法是在工作日留一个硬性的”不撑”时间。哪怕20分钟，不表现正常，不为任何人维持状态，就自己待着。不是冥想，不是去自然里，就是存在。 举几个反例。那20分钟我什么杂念都没有，专心工作，那不算。那是换了一种撑，不是停下的存在。真正的停，是什么都不产出，不思考，不解决。那20分钟我去公园放空，去了，但没充进去。问题不是有没有停，是停的时候身份没有切换。还是那个在撑的自己去的公园。没有哪一刻是完全忘记自己在”恢复”这件事的。我把”恢复”也变成了一个任务，所以去公园也是在撑，只是撑的内容变成了”我要恢复”。 真正的休息没有目的。 20分钟，什么目的也没有。不是为了恢复，不是为了充电，不是为任何事。就是在。
总结
旅行时脑子空，所以有空间。日常时念头太多，全堵着，空间没了，可能性也没了。 我发现，有目的地放下同样耗能。所以过去的冥想反而是另一种撑。有目的的一切都是在撑，包括有目的地放松。 如果可以每天给我自己20分钟，念头直接穿过，不拦不放，自己走。不是方法，是状态。没有目的的时候，念头自己会流动。 道理听了不算懂，身体感受到才是真的。
我猜你也感受过
这种感觉很美好，
看什么眼光都是温暖，满是阳光，清澈明亮，
对路过的人也可以分享一些爱给ta们，自然溢出的爱。
感受到花草树木，一切的生命，自然而然地展开，和它们一起真实地存在着。
To be added.
Every time I travel, my mind goes clear. So much clarity. Even when thoughts do come, they move through freely — no deadlines, no routines to maintain, nothing to hold onto. I didn’t realize it until recently, but this is a clearing process. That’s why coming home after a trip always brings a certain clarity and freshness. Something new gets in.
This morning, two things I’d read a long time ago came back to me.
The first is from Caigentan, a Ming dynasty collection of reflections: “The songs of birds and insects are all transmissions of the heart. The colors of flowers and grass are nothing but texts of the Way.” The idea is that when the mind is still, everything becomes so real. A bird call, a patch of light — all of it speaks.
This is what being fully present actually feels like.
There’s a line I love: “The scholar keeps the mind clear as sky, the chest open as a hollow — and in touching things, finds meaning everywhere.” You don’t have to be a scholar. Anyone can get there. But only when the mind is empty first. Only then does anything new come in.
Borges wrote in Funes the Memorious that a man named Funes who, after an accident, could forget nothing. He remembered every leaf on every tree, every time he had seen it. Borges wrote: “With no effort, he had learned English, French, Portuguese and Latin. I suspect, however, that he was not very capable of thought. To think is to forget differences, generalize, make abstractions. In the teeming world of Funes, there were only details, almost immediate in their presence.” Funes remembered everything and understood nothing. The connections we call insight — those only form in the space that forgetting creates.
Forgetting is a gift. Not thinking is a gift. Empty first, and then something real can enter.
I have a simple way of checking in with myself. When I’m not present, my eyes go flat. I stop blinking naturally. My thoughts loop without landing anywhere. It’s obvious once I notice it.
The most useful thing I’ve found is just to shift the frequency — interrupt the stare, break the loop. Travel does this for me automatically. So does stopping in the middle of the day and doing nothing for twenty minutes. Not meditating. Just existing without a purpose. And yes, “feeling your existence” is also a purpose — so not even that. You know what I mean.
When I’m in that open state, everything feels wide. I can see past the immediate ten meters of my life — past the tasks and the schedule and the noise. The world feels full of possibility.
When I’m not, it’s the opposite. I can only see what’s right in front of me. Not because I’ve become smaller, but because I’m running on empty.
For a long time I kept myself going through willpower. Maintaining a normal-looking exterior while quietly exhausted on the inside. The thing about willpower is that it’s not a source of energy — it’s a drain on it. The more you use it to hold yourself together, the less you actually have.
So there is a thing I can do. Everyday, twenty minutes that belong to no one and nothing. Not working. Not recovering. Not resetting. Not doing anything. Just being there — unoccupied.
A few things that don’t count: spending those twenty minutes focused on work with a clear head — that’s just a different kind of effort. Going to a park to release — if you go as the person who’s still holding everything together, you’re still holding everything together. The location changes; the tension doesn’t. I used to turn rest itself into a task. “I need to recover” is still a goal. Real rest has no goal.
20 minutes. No agenda. Not to recharge, not to feel better, not for anything. Just in.
What I’ve come to understand is that the problem was never a lack of energy. It was a blocked mind. Travel clears it because there’s nothing to think about. Daily life fills it back up because there’s always something. When there’s no space, there’s no possibility either.
And here’s the part that surprised me: deliberately trying to let go takes more energy than just being stuck. All those years of structured meditation — I was efforting my way through relaxation. Anything done with a goal is still effort, including effortful rest.
What’s different now is that thoughts just pass through. I don’t hold them and I don’t push them away. They move on their own. It’s not a technique. It’s a state. When there’s no purpose, the mind flows by itself.
You can hear this and nod along. But you only really know it when your body has felt it.
I think you’ve felt it too.
It’s a beautiful feeling.
That state where everything looks a little warmer, clear and bright.
For those passing by, there is some love that you may quietly share with them. Just warmth, spilling over naturally.
You feel the flowers, the grass, the trees, every living thing quietly unfolding — and you’re there with them, truly present, fully alive.