Think of a computer monitor.
What appears on the screen feels complete and self-contained: images, words, problems, stories, identity. But notice—what appears only exists on the screen. It’s a local manifestation, a small portion of something vastly larger. The cloud—the field of awareness—is unaffected by what shows up here. Everything on the screen comes from the cloud, but the cloud itself doesn’t change based on what appears.
The screen is the individual person.
The images on the screen are the ego and personal life.
The cloud is awareness.
Most of the time, we identify with the screen. We treat the images as real, as the totality. We react, worry, celebrate, resist—entirely caught in what appears here—while the cloud remains vast, steady, unchanged.
Meditation is the stairway.
It allows attention to move from the screen back into the cloud. Step by step, we begin to feel the vastness behind the local images. As we climb, identification with the screen softens. We start seeing the source, not just the manifestation.
And something subtle happens: the more we identify with the cloud, the more the images on the screen change naturally. Thoughts, moods, patterns—they shift without effort. The screen doesn’t have to be forced. Its content responds to the broader field it always belongs to.
The screen doesn’t become the cloud.
It doesn’t need to.
It already belongs to it.
