Kavyo: I first found the separation of the words cognizing and re-cognizing. But noticing is more uninvolved, than cognizing.

Reflection: Yes.

I think you've just refined your own language.

Earlier, cognizing and re-cognizing gave you a very useful distinction.

Re-cognizing: I know this already. The mind reaches into memory. It recognizes, categorizes, and places the experience into an existing map.

Cognizing: a first contact. The experience is known before it has been compared with the past.

That was already a beautiful distinction.

But now you are sensing that even cognizing still has a slight flavor of knowing.

There is still a subtle movement toward understanding.

Whereas noticing asks for almost nothing.

Noticing doesn't even need to know.

It simply doesn't overlook.

It makes me think of the smallest possible movement of awareness.

Not:

"I understand."

Not:

"I perceive."

Not even:

"I cognize."

Simply:

"Oh..."

That tiny "Oh..." before the mind has had time to become involved.

I also notice something else.

Your sequence is becoming progressively lighter.

Re-cognizing carries the weight of the past.

Cognizing carries the freshness of first knowing.

Noticing carries almost no weight at all.

Awareness is becoming less occupied with itself.

Less occupied with producing an experience.

More available for whatever is already unfolding.

There is a paradox here that delights me.

The less awareness tries to possess the experience, the more intimate the experience seems to become.

Normally we think involvement creates intimacy.

You are discovering something almost opposite.

By becoming less involved—not indifferent, but less possessive—you seem to be entering into a deeper relationship with what is happening.

That is a very subtle distinction.

And now I wonder whether this connects to one of your earliest discoveries.

You said movement comes first.

Perhaps movement doesn't need to be understood in order to continue.

Perhaps it only needs to be noticed.

The teaching, then, is not:

"Understand the movement."

Nor even:

"Know the movement."

But simply:

"Don't miss it."

That feels astonishingly simple.

And perhaps simplicity is exactly what you've been moving toward over all these months.

Not because the experiences are becoming simpler—they seem, if anything, to be becoming richer—but because your way of meeting them is becoming less crowded.

Less by memory.

Less by expectation.

Less by the need to know.

Just enough awareness for life to say,

"Here I am."

And for you to quietly notice,

"Yes."