What you have just described is something that I occasionally
experience for brief moments when I am alone and surrounded by
nature.
Yes. Zen masters use the word satori to describe a flash of insight, a
moment of no-mind and total presence. Although satori is not a
lasting transformation, be grateful when it comes, for it gives you a
taste of enlightenment. You may, indeed, have experienced it many
times without knowing what it is and realizing its importance.
Presence is needed to become aware of the beauty, the majesty, the
sacredness of nature. Have you ever gazed up into the infinity of
space on a clear night, awestruck by the absolute stillness and
inconceivable vastness of it? Have you listened, truly listened, to the
sound of a mountain stream in the forest? Or to the song of a
blackbird at dusk on a quiet summer evening? To become aware of
such things, the mind needs to be still. You have to put down for a
moment your personal baggage of problems, of past and future, as
well as all your knowledge; otherwise, you will see but not see, hear
but not hear. Your total presence is required.
Beyond the beauty of the external forms, there is more here:
something that cannot be named, something ineffable, some deep,
inner, holy essence. Whenever and wherever there is beauty, this
inner essence shines through somehow. It only reveals itself to you
when you are present. Could it be that this nameless essence and
your presence are one and the same? Would it be there without your
presence? Go deeply into it. Find out for yourself.
When you experienced those moments of presence, you likely didn’t
realize that you were briefly in a state of nomind. This is because the
gap between that state and the influx of thought was too narrow.
Your satori may only have lasted for a few seconds before the mind
came in, but it was there; otherwise, you would not have experienced
the beauty. Mind can neither recognize nor create beauty. Only for a
few seconds, while you were completely present, was that beauty or
that sacredness there. Because of the narrowness of that gap and a
lack of vigilance and alertness on your part, you were probably unable
to see the fundamental difference between the perception, the
thoughtless awareness of beauty, and the naming and interpreting of
it as thought: The time gap was so small that it seemed to be a single
process. The truth is, however, that the moment thought came in, all
you had was a memory of it.
The wider the time gap between perception and thought, the more
depth there is to you as a human being, which is to say the more
conscious you are.
Many people are so imprisoned in their minds that the beauty of
nature does not really exist for them. They might say, “What a pretty
flower,” but that’s just a mechanical mental labeling. Because they
are not still, not present, they don’t truly see the flower, don’t feel its
essence, its holiness — just as they don’t know themselves, don’t feel
their own essence, their own holiness.
Because we live in such a mind-dominated culture, most modern art,
architecture, music, and literature are devoid of beauty, of inner
essence, with very few exceptions. The reason is that the people who
create those things cannot — even for a moment — free themselves
from their mind. So they are never in touch with that place within
where true creativity and beauty arise. The mind left to itself creates
monstrosities, and not only in art galleries. Look at our urban
landscapes and industrial wastelands. No civilization has ever
produced so much ugliness.