I meditate regularly, usually with chanting going on silently in my mind. A while ago, during one meditation, I experienced a strange sensation where a warmth seemed to rise from my tailbone toward my head.
I've actually made a post about that experience in this subreddit before. Interestingly, it feels like many of the changes I've experienced since then somehow started from that point.
Over time, I've noticed that my sense of being a separate individual seems to be weakening.
It's difficult to explain, but it feels less like there is a particular "me" here and more like there is simply a sense of being or life happening.
I notice it especially in how I experience other people. This morning I looked at my mother and, although I obviously knew she was my mother, she somehow felt more like an expression of life itself rather than specifically "my mother". A constant flow. No one separate. The same one life.
And strangely, the positive feeling I have toward people seems to be becoming much less differentiated. The Almighty whom I love deeply, my mother, and a completely random person can evoke essentially the same basic positive feeling. There isn't necessarily a stronger emotional "pull" toward one person than another.
Then the mind kicks in and says, essentially, "No, no, this person is your mother. You should care about her more. This is the Almighty. You love Him. This stranger is just a stranger."
Sometimes I listen to the mind and behave accordingly. I understand relationships and responsibilities perfectly well. I know I should protect and care for my mother before a random stranger if the situation requires it.
But another part of me sees these distinctions as something the mind is adding.
And I wonder: what happens if the mind becomes weak enough that it stops protesting altogether?
I'm not particularly scared of this. Sometimes it actually feels quite beautiful. I'm more curious about what happens from there.
Another strange thing: I seem to experience something similar in dreams.
For example, I once dreamed that my sibling broke my laptop. Normally I'd expect to feel devastated or angry. But in the dream I wasn't really sad. I remember thinking something like, "It would be inappropriate not to be upset about this. I should probably be angry." And then I actually acted like I was upset and pretended to cry.
All of this was happening inside the dream itself.
It was funny when I woke up, but also strangely interesting. Even in the dream, there seemed to be a kind of awareness that the emotional reaction was supposed to be there, rather than the reaction naturally arising.
I also don't feel like I have a fixed personality in the way I used to. I don't strongly feel "I am someone who likes this colour, this food, these things and dislikes those things." Preferences still appear, but they don't feel like they belong to a solid person. Sometimes the mind says otherwise, but it's not taken particularly seriously anymore.
Criticism doesn't create the same deep ache it used to. Praise doesn't create the same exhilaration. Those feelings can still appear, but they seem more like passing events, almost like scenes in a movie or web series.
Another thing that has changed is the sense of time.
It feels strangely like I'm constantly living in a Now moment. I used to meticulously plan my future. I had ambitions, things I wanted to accomplish, money I wanted to earn, and plans for starting a business.
Now I don't really feel like I have any particular dream that I need to realise.
But again, the mind protests.
It says, "But you wanted to earn this much money. You wanted to start that business. You had all these plans."
And I can answer, "Yes, I wanted those things. But I don't want them now."
At the same time, I still understand that we have to live and work. So I will continue working, I'll do my best, and I'll take care of whatever needs to be taken care of. There is no intention to simply abandon everything.
But this makes me wonder about something else:
What happens if the mind eventually becomes completely silent?
If there is no longer that voice reminding me of future goals, ambitions, possessions, status, etc., would I simply stop bothering about future plans altogether?
Is this how some people eventually become ascetic or renunciate? Is there a point where worldly ambition simply loses its grip, while the person can still function and do whatever needs to be done?
I'm genuinely curious about this because I don't know where this process leads.
Has anyone personally experienced something like this? What happened when it went further? What happened to your ambitions, relationships, future plans and ordinary responsibilities?
I'd especially love to hear personal experiences or firsthand accounts, rather than purely theoretical explanations.
One thing I want to clarify: I'm not saying there are two minds, one that "knows" and another that doesn't. There is only one mind. It now seems to know something that it didn't know before, but perhaps it still protests because it's in its nature to do so, even after knowing all it knows.
Honestly, I don't explicitly think any of this. Even the understanding itself seems to arise in the mind. All of this just seems to be happening, and the mind is noticing and making sense of it in its own way.
P.S. My apologies for the long post, and thank you very much for taking the time to read it!