It was in Pemba, Mozambique.
2013.
That’s when I first encountered my own headlessness, even though I didn’t know what to call it at the time. I was far away from the practice of meditation or Douglas Harding’s life-changing little book, On Having No Head.
I was a Christian, firmly enmeshed in the so-called duality of good and evil, I and world, in here and out there.
I was sitting alone on the beach — the winking stars of the Milky Way reflecting off the Indian Ocean below.
One moment I was looking up at the night sky, and the next I was…nowhere. I wasn’t aware of myself — and I surely wasn’t aware of the cosmic lights flickering high up above.
It was a relief.
I wasn’t stressed. I wasn’t depressed. I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t worried.
I was, in that moment, the entire universe — existing as pure bliss.
Everything — me, the ocean, and the cosmos — had become one, unified whole. (Well, this isn’t strictly true. Everything has only ever been one unified whole, but so much of the time, we fail to see it that way.)
I had melted into the literal substance of reality. The ego had vanished like a mist. There was no longer some I looking or thinking or hearing. There was just…existence.
It was (and still is) one of the most profound moments in my life. However, I understand that not everyone has had this experience. Or, perhaps they have, but they just haven’t realized it.
Maybe you haven’t had a headless experience in Pemba, Mozambique, but perhaps you have had one in a movie theater.
Imagine you’re sitting in a large theater, watching an entertaining movie. You’re sitting in your comfy chair, throwing back popcorn, with this massive rectangular screen displayed in front of you, and the movie is so entertaining that you can’t seem to peel your eyes away.
This has probably happened to you.
Maybe you don’t realize it in the moment, but there was perhaps a point at which you forgot there was a giant, rectangular screen plastered right in front of your face. It was like you seeped right into the movie itself, soaking up the fictional events like a sponge.
Has this ever happened to you?
I bet it has.
This movie theater experience could be considered a headless moment. It’s the experience of being nowhere and everywhere all at once, of disappearing into experience itself.
But what good is this so-called headlessness if we’re not aware of it?
Well, not a whole lot.
Conversely, headlessness is of immense value if we can become aware of it. And it’s in practicing awareness of our headlessness that we can come to appreciate the treasures it has to offer.
The important underpinning of the awareness (or realization) of our own headlessness is that we soon conclude we are not some independent thing in the world.
There’s no duality; there’s only non-duality.
Douglas Harding — who I mentioned above — wrote many books on headlessness, as well as strategies to achieve the awareness of headlessness.
There’s also a gentleman named Richard Lang, who has made available a host of experiments to those who wish to investigate their own headlessness.
I should mention that headlessness — and the awareness of headlessness — is not New Age gobbledygook. It’s not religious in any way. It’s wholly empirical and rational.
There’s nothing woo-woo about it.
The whole practice is simply about sharpening our skills of awareness, and in doing so, we come to understand what we really are.
In fact, the truth behind headlessness has a long, decorated history.
The philosophy (or worldview) behind headlessness appears in Zen Buddhism, Dzogchen, Advaita Vedanta, and other philosophies not necessarily native to the average Westerner.
If you enjoyed this post, consider subscribing to this newsletter, checking out my YouTube channel, and following me on Instagram!