An experiential journey inspired by Alan Watts
You find yourself standing before three doors. Each represents a way of seeing the world.
You enter a room with intricate machinery. Everything seems designed to be operated, controlled, manipulated.
"Trying to control the world is like trying to flatten all the bumps out of a rug with your hand. When you push down in one place, bumps appear somewhere else."
You find yourself in a garden where plants grow in beautiful, wild patterns. Nothing here seems forced or contained.
"The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance."
This room contains only a mirror. But as you look closer, you notice that what you see isn't exactly your reflection—it's watching you as you watch it.
"Through our eyes, the universe is perceiving itself. Through our ears, the universe is listening to its harmonies."
The more you try to control the machinery, the more complex it becomes. New levers appear with each one you pull. New buttons emerge with each one you press.
"The desire for security and the feeling of insecurity are the same thing. To hold your breath is to lose your breath."
As you step back, you notice the space between yourself and the machinery. This space is neither you nor the machine, yet contains both.
"You are a function of what the whole universe is doing in the same way that a wave is a function of what the whole ocean is doing."
You begin to work with the garden, not imposing your will, but following its nature. The plants respond to your touch, growing in harmonious patterns.
"The meaning of life is just to be alive. It is so plain and so obvious and so simple."
As you sit quietly, the distinction between you and the garden begins to blur. You feel the growth of the plants as if it were your own.
"We do not 'come into' this world; we come out of it, as leaves from a tree."
Your finger meets the mirror, but instead of cold glass, it feels like touching water. Ripples spread from the point of contact.
"The feeling of being separate from the world is a contradiction to the physical fact of your total interdependence with it."
The longer you look, the more you realize: what you see isn't separate from you. It's not even a reflection—it's your true nature looking back at itself.
"The real you is not a puppet which life pushes around; the real, deep down you is the whole universe."
You're now surrounded by an infinite array of controls, each demanding attention. The burden feels overwhelming.
"In this life, we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love."
As you release your grip on the need to control, a curious lightness fills you. The machinery, the room, all seem less substantial now.
"To have faith is to trust yourself to the water. When you swim you don't grab hold of the water, because if you do you will sink and drown. Instead you relax, and float."
In this space between you and the world, you find neither control nor abandon, but a middle path—participation without attachment.
"The only Zen you find on the tops of mountains is the Zen you bring up there."
Your hands move with the garden, not against it. Work and play become indistinguishable as you participate in the unfolding of life.
"This is the real secret of life—to be completely engaged with what you are doing in the here and now."
Time seems to stop. There is only now, this garden, this breath, this moment of being which contains the entire universe.
"I have realized that the past and future are real illusions, that they exist in the present, which is what there is and all there is."
With eyes closed, you discover the garden exists within you just as you exist within it. The boundary dissolves entirely.
"You do not need any more experiences. You need to understand your experience."
You pass through the mirror to find... yourself, looking back at where you just were. There is no "other side"—just a shift in perspective.
"The most important question we must ask ourselves is, 'Is the universe a friendly place?'"
As you pull back, you realize even the act of withdrawal is part of the dance. You cannot truly separate from what you are.
"You cannot understand life and its mysteries as long as you try to grasp it."
The distinction between observer and observed vanishes completely. There is no mirror, no reflection—only awareness recognizing itself.
"The meaning of life is just to be alive. It is so plain and so obvious and so simple."
Breathe with the circle. Allow your awareness to rest in this moment.