The place of experience

There is a story I like very much.

A monk sits on a train and looks out of the window. Outside, a mountain comes into view – large, massive, in the distance. And in that moment, something dawns on him.

In the story, he discovers that the mountain is far away, but seeing the mountain is immediate. “Zero centimetres” could be an image for this closeness of experience. Not a measurement of the distance to the mountain.

Where is the world?

In everyday life, we usually direct our attention towards what we perceive. The tree stands ten metres away. The sky is above us. The other person is there – and I am here.

But we can also ask differently: How am I experiencing the tree right now? What do I notice of the sky? How do I hear the other person’s voice?

What interests me about these questions is the shift in attention: from the object to my current experience of it. Colours, sounds, sensations – and perhaps thoughts about them too. I do not have to decide whether the world is “inside me” or “outside me” to do this.

Distance and immediate experience

The tree has a location, and the bird sings some distance away. Nearness and distance can also be clear in perception. The exercise does not ask us to ignore this.

At the same time, I hear the bird now. The sound is part of my present experience. The smell of fresh bread has a source – and I can notice how I perceive it right now.

The phrase “Everything appears in awareness” can be read as a philosophical perspective. It does not prove that things or other people exist only in my imagination.

A small experiment

Go for a walk and try it. Look at a tree. Notice its shape, its colour and its distance. Then turn your attention for a moment to seeing itself: What do you notice before you name it?

Listen to a bird. What do you hear – and what thoughts arise alongside the sound?

Perhaps something changes. Perhaps the perception remains familiar, or the question feels unfamiliar. You do not have to find a particular experience. You can let your gaze wander again and carry on walking at any time.

Closeness

The story invites us to notice our own experience more closely. Perhaps the surroundings feel nearer or more alive as we do so. Perhaps not.

A feeling of connection does not erase differences and boundaries. The other person remains someone with their own experience, their own needs and their own no.

What draws me to the story, then, is less an answer to the question of what the world ultimately is. More the invitation to look a little more closely for a moment.

Sometimes a glance out of the window is enough for that.