What is Awareness?

Awareness is often defined in psychology and philosophy as 'a knowledge and understanding that something is happening or exists' or 'a perception of a situation or fact.' Yet, in Eastern spiritual traditions—where the term holds central significance—its meaning extends far beyond these definitions.

In Dzogchen Buddhism, Awareness (Rigpa in Tibetan) is understood as an intrinsic, primordial state of consciousness—ever-present in every being, beyond conceptualization, untouched by dualistic thinking or mental distractions. Rigpa isn’t something to achieve or develop—it’s never absent. But habitual mental patterns can pull attention toward thoughts and perceptions, making this innate awareness seem obscured.

Enough with the big words—what about your own experience? Right now, in this very moment, what is Awareness to you in your innermost experiential knowing?

Since it might not be so easy to relate to Awareness when described in positive terms — as our looking for it might be just like a fish searching the ocean for water — perhaps a good starting point is to explore what it isn't.

Let’s begin with the body and its activities. When there is pain, we notice a sensation, label it as pain, and can often pinpoint its location—'My butt hurts from sitting too long' or 'My legs are killing me after all that dancing.'

Similarly, with our senses, we register and report experiences effortlessly: 'I felt such a gentle touch,' 'Did you see how beautiful the sunset was?' 'Did you hear the doorbell?' 'This food tastes delicious,' or 'What a sweet jasmine fragrance.'

Internal sensations can be more subtle, yet we still describe them: 'I felt butterflies in my stomach,' or 'There was a tightness in my chest.' In all these cases, we are aware of something—we perceive it. But what is the awareness itself?

Our internal world is equally rich in experience. The quieter we become, the easier it is to notice thoughts, judgments, concepts, memories, and emotions. These too are part of our experience, perceived just like external sensations.

It’s worth noting that Perception is how we make sense of the world—both the one outside us and the one within. It’s like a filter shaped by our past experiences, expectations, and emotions. It not only involves detecting stimuli but also the mental processes that interpret and give meaning to those sensory inputs, shaping our thoughts, emotions, and actions. Because it is influenced by past experiences, expectations, and emotions, perception is subjective—something that develops over time.

But if perception is conditioned and evolving, it cannot be Rigpa. So, back to our inquiry: What is that intrinsic awareness, fundamental and ever-present, untouched by conditioning and perception? That which is prior to subjectivity?

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Isaac Shapiro was once approached by someone who asked, 'I have a strange question: What is awareness? I hear people talk about it often, but I don’t really understand what it means.'

'I have a strange answer,’ he replied playfully. ‘No one can say!'

Though it may be impossible to put into words, awareness is something we all undeniably experience. Talking about it can make it seem distant or abstract, yet it is so intimately present that we cannot deny it, just like the air we breathe. After all, how else could we report anything—like the simple fact that we are aware of these very words being read right now?

A commonly used analogy to explore this is that of a cinema screen. No matter what is projected onto it—whether an action-packed scene, a raging fire, or a quiet and gentle rain—the screen itself remains unchanged. While the movie unfolds with all its drama and movement, the screen is never burnt by fire, never wet from rain, and never shaken by explosions. Everything simply appears and passes.

In the same way, awareness is like that screen—the ever-present background upon which the theater of life plays out, untouched by the content of experience.

Annamalai Swami once said, ‘While people see the names and forms that appear on the screen of consciousness, they ignore the screen itself. If they were to be aware of consciousness instead of the forms appearing within it, they would realize that all forms are mere appearances manifesting within the one indivisible consciousness.’

By now, we have hopefully moved beyond mere intellectual understanding and into direct experiential inquiry. With this shift, we can begin to make increasingly subtle distinctions. A particularly relevant question arises: Is there such a thing as my awareness or your awareness?

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If awareness is prior to what makes experience subjective—namely perception, memory, and interpretation—what remains that could make it mine? Do we have ownership papers? And if it is not subjective, can it truly belong to someone else? What do ‘internal’ and ‘external’ or ‘here’ and ‘there’ even mean in the absence of a fixed reference point we call me?

Let’s pause for a second and let the question settle. Looking deeply into that, does awareness belong to anyone? If so, to whom? And if an answer arises… what or who is aware of that answer?

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Now, are there different qualities of awareness? We often say things like, “I am quite aware of…”—using the word in the sense of being conscious of something or acknowledging that something is included in our perception. This suggests a relative awareness, one that involves a subject perceiving an object.

But let’s take a closer look. Is there a quality of awareness that exists independent of this subject-object relationship? What happens if there is no object—does the subject remain? Or is there simply awareness? And if a sense of subject lingers, what are its qualities?

Throughout time, many voices of wisdom have pointed to something intrinsic in us—our very nature—as unbound and independent of a subject-object framework. Often described as pure consciousness, timeless awareness, or the absolute, this has been at the heart of countless contemplative traditions. So, here we are—venturing into the very nature of existence itself. No pressure, right?

Here’s the challenge: What if there is only awareness? No particular object of attention—just awareness itself? A way to explore this, as Nisargadatta Maharaj suggests, is through the simple yet radical shift in reference:

‘You are awareness itself, not what you are aware of.’

Or, put in another way:

‘Be aware of your awareness, and all confusion will dissolve.’

He invites us to direct our attention back to awareness itself—or even more precisely, to bring attention back to its source.

As that is no ordinary invitation, it might be a good time to pause again and dive deep into that thoughtless exploration before continuing.

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Finally, there’s one more assumption worth investigating: we often draw a distinction between awareness and its contents—what we are aware of. This distinction has been useful so far, but now that there is direct experience of Awareness itself, is there really a boundary? Is there any real separation between Awareness and the sensations of this very moment?

This question has the potential to profoundly shift how life is experienced. So, perhaps now is the perfect time to set this book aside and dive in. Not necessarily with our thinking or analyzing – but simply letting being reveal its secrets.

Enjoy the depths of your own experience!