Ep124: Art of Awakening - Rupert Spira

In this episode, I'm joined by Rupert Spira, a teacher of the direct path method of Advaita, and an internationally acclaimed ceramic artist. In this episode, Rupert discusses his childhood in British boarding school, his disenchantment with science, and his discovery of spirituality. Rupert explains how his decision to pursue a career in pottery caused a rift with his father, and reveals the profound significance of their subsequent reconciliation many years later. Rupert recounts his intensive apprenticeship with a Zen master-like British studio potter, Michael Cardew, and shares the essence of his artistic process as it expresses both in ceramics and in his work as a teacher of non-duality. Rupert also discusses personality cults in the arts and spirituality, the seductiveness of adulation as a spiritual teacher, the apparent conflict between beauty and truth, and why awakening so often stills the artistic impulse, but can also liberate it.

spirituality. Rupert explains how his decision to pursue a career in pottery caused a rift with his father, and reveals the profound significance of their subsequent reconciliation many years later. Rupert recounts his intensive apprenticeship with a Zen master-like British studio potter,

So, without further ado, Rupert Spira. Rupert Spira, welcome to the podcast. Thank you, Steve. Pleasure to be with you. Well, I'm very delighted to be interviewing you today. You've said from your mid-teens that the nature of reality became your main interest.

apparent conflict between beauty and truth, and why awakening so often stills the artistic impulse, but can also liberate it.

But, and I'd like to ask you a bit about that, but actually I'm wondering, can you go a bit before that and perhaps tell us a bit about your childhood, your upbringing, and also your education?

But and I'd like to ask you a bit about that, but actually I'm wondering, can you go a bit before that and perhaps tell us a bit about your childhood, your upbringing, and also your education?

Yes, in fact, my interest in these matters goes all the way back really as far as I can remember.

And not that I could say that I was interested in my childhood. However, I did always have a a deep feeling.

And not that I could say that I was interested in my childhood. However, I did always have a deep feeling.

articulated in in the Christian language because that was the tradition that I was brought up in, that that that reality was um the activity of God's mind.

And my mother regularly reminds me that aged seven, I apparently said to her, "I feel that everything is God's dream." And that our job is to make it as pleasant a dream as possible. So, I had this childish intuition

the the way I speak about it has evolved a great deal. So, I had a um My parents were were not not religious, but my mother certainly was interested in these matters. So, it was These ideas were around me in my

articulated in the Christian language because that was the tradition that I was brought up in, that reality was the activity of God's mind.

So, just rewind a little bit. So, from the age of seven, I I was I went to boarding school, and I was at boarding school for for 10 years.

And that our role as apparent individuals was somehow to bring the truth of that into existence, to share it in our lives. So, this was a very childish intuition, which actually hasn't evolved very much. Obviously, the

Perhaps not the the time to go into into detail about that. But, you know, such an education, it's a it's a mixed blessing. There are some wonderful It's a very good education, very classical education. There are some wonderful things that come with it, but

way I speak about it has evolved a great deal. So, I had a... My parents were not religious, but my mother certainly was interested in these matters. So, these ideas were around me in my

There is a price to be paid. So, um I I I was exposed to the the full range of the English public school system. Um As I say, fast forward 10 years, mid-teens, I came in contact with the

childhood as I was growing up, and they really were first formulated in me at the age of 15, 15, 16 when I discovered the poetry of Rumi, and soon after that I learned to meditate, mantra meditation in the Advaita Vedanta tradition.

abrupt um change. At that time, I also came across the um the work of Michael Cardew, one of the founding fathers of the British studio pottery movement. So, in my mid-teens, there was a there was a big really a big

So, just rewind a little bit. So, from the age of seven, I went to boarding school, and I was at boarding school for 10 years.

And I started I started meditating. I learned the Mevlevi turning. I learned Gurdjieff's movements. I started attending weekly meetings and and and so on. Very interesting. You've said that elsewhere that there was something in your studies as a biochemist or budding

Boys only English public school system with all the benefits and disadvantages that come with that.

contact or find what can we really know is true. Yes. Yes, you're right. And in fact, this this um intuition was precipitated on one particular occasion when when I was at school. It was actually after a physics lesson where where

Perhaps not the time to go into detail about that. But, you know, such an education, it's a mixed blessing. There are some wonderful... It's a very good education, very classical education. There are some wonderful things that come with it, but

One could never reach certainty in objective knowledge. There would always be something more to know. What what what what we know now objectively will always be replaced by something else.

there is a price to be paid for being taken away from one's parents at such a young age, to be in an all-male environment.

no finality there, no no certainty. So, so this this question formulated itself in my mind, what what what can we know for absolutely certain? What what is not dependent on um the limitations of the finite mind. Is there anything that can be we can know

There is a price to be paid. So, I was exposed to the full range of the English public school system. As I say, fast forward 10 years, mid-teens, I came in contact with the

it it kind of gripped me in a kind of visceral way. But later, I formulated it in in in this way, and I think this was largely responsible for my disenchantment with the scientific I I I can't even say that I had begun a

poetry of Rumi, the teaching of the classical Advaita Vedanta tradition, and up until that point, I had wanted to be a biochemist or to study medicine, but my kind of incipient career as a scientist took an

It would never satisfy those existential questions. Who am I really? What is the nature of reality?

abrupt change. At that time, I also came across the work of Michael Cardew, one of the founding fathers of the British studio pottery movement. So, in my mid-teens, there was a big, really a big

Yes. And I believe you It was an exhibition you saw of his that really revolutionized your life trajectory.

upheaval. I was introduced to the arts and to the spiritual tradition in the Sufi and Advaita traditions, and this really from then on really became the backbone, the foundation of my life.

It It was It was a a conflux of various influences. Within I don't know the exact chronology of it, but within a year 1975, I was 15.

And I started meditating. I learned the Mevlevi turning. I learned Gurdjieff's movements. I started attending weekly meetings and so on. Very interesting. You've said that elsewhere that there was something in your studies as a biochemist or budding

I was 15, he was 75. And within a year of that, I had also come across the poetry of Rumi, and shortly after that, I first saw the Mevlevi turning in London, and shortly after that, I learned mantra meditation and

biochemist, there was something about the scientific way of knowing that disturbed you and that you became disenchanted with eventually. Something about these are theories that are replaced by theories that are replaced by theories, and you had an urge to

the arts and spiritual understanding. And of course, it's no coincidence that that this happened at the same time in in in my life. They were really the same event. What one one through the faculty of perception and the other through thought and

contact or find what can we really know is true. Yes. Yes, you're right. And in fact, this intuition was precipitated on one particular occasion when I was at school. It was actually after a physics lesson where

During this very potent time in my mid-teens, I was I had this intuition of a reality that I had not up until then um known about or at least I had as a child, but I had forgotten about it in

it became clear to me that the way I formulated it to myself was there could be no end to objective knowledge.

And how was this uh reawakening and subsequent change of direction received by those around you?

One could never reach certainty in objective knowledge. There would always be something more to know. What we know now objectively will always be replaced by something else.

was horrified. His um his his father had been a well-known doctor in in London and he was very happy that for for several years his eldest son had had um intended to follow him and you know, he he had not um

And that's the nature of objective knowledge, but that I realized that objective knowledge was not the way to explore or recognize the nature of reality. That it would be endlessly frustrating, one horizon after another. That

um the education that I had. However, to be fair to him um he changed over the years.

there could be no finality there, no certainty. So, this question formulated itself in my mind, what can we know for absolutely certain? What is not dependent on the limitations of the finite mind? Is there anything that can be we can know

but it it if I had if he in his mid-teens had just on what at least appeared to be a a whim, just decided to to take off, to leave school, to take off, to to to do something which was so far

for certain beyond or prior to the limitations of the finite mind? Now, I didn't articulate to myself quite as clearly as I am doing now. It was more of an

response. He was afraid for me. You know, he was concerned as as all fathers are for their children. He wanted to make sure that I was going to be able to make it in the world. And this he thought that I was just dropping

intuition, and to begin with, it kind of gripped me in a kind of visceral way. But later, I formulated it in this way, and I think this was largely responsible for my disenchantment with the scientific... I can't even say that I had begun a

to art school. I did an apprenticeship with Michael Cardew. I set up my first studio in my early 20s, and he was very supportive. And it was 10 years later, beautiful uh turning point in our lives, when he

scientific career, but that was the direction I was heading in, and I think this intuition put an end to that. I realized another way of putting it would be I realized it could never be deeply satisfying.

you didn't follow me into the city. It's you you you you you you have a wonderful life. It's so fulfilling." By this time I was beginning to to be successful, having having exhibitions around the world. So, he no longer feared for my

It would never satisfy those existential questions. Who am I really? What is the nature of reality?

How did that land with you? Oh, my goodness. That it was that was a that was a a turning point in our lives. You know, most if not all um children, but maybe sons young men in particular uh want the

At what point did you turn towards ceramics as a possible outlet here or a possible expression? In 1975, you mentioned coming across the work of Michael Cardew.

felt his blessing since I was a since I was a young child. And it it it liberated me from from a kind of a heavy burden, the burden of not I I never doubted my father's love. That was never

Yes. And I believe you... It was an exhibition you saw of his that really revolutionized your life trajectory.

And um I although he was never um he never actually expressed it, but I could feel it that I didn't have his total approval. And this weighed on me.

You've described it in those sorts of terms. But, there seems to be... Is there a gap between that and the disenchantment with science as a path?

really know was there. And actually, our relationship, it was very healing in our relationship, too.

It was a conflux of various influences. Within I don't know the exact chronology of it, but within a year, 1975, I was 15.

Wonderful. And in addition to your father's blessing, as you pointed out um at that time you were beginning to achieve or attract international interest. And indeed, in your 30 years as as a potter, you were highly acclaimed and highly

Within a year, I had seen this exhibition of Michael Cardew's. It was an exhibition put on at the Camden Art Centre in London to commemorate his 75th birthday.

As you mentioned, you apprenticed with him for 2 years. And you said that that was in many ways a complete reeducation.

I was 15, he was 75. And within a year of that, I had also come across the poetry of Rumi, and shortly after that, I first saw the Mevlevi turning in London, and shortly after that, I learned mantra meditation and

For those who might not know, who was Michael Cardew? In your experience, what sort of a man was he? And how was it that you came to begin this apprenticeship relationship?

began to study the Advaita Vedanta teaching at Colet House in London. So, within a period of let's say a year or 18 months, these two very powerful influences, I was introduced to these two very, very powerful influences,

Um he was he was highly intelligent. He had studied classics at Oxford. Uh then he had he had dropped out and tried to revive the English slipware tradition, first of all in Gloucestershire. Then um the war came along. He went to to Africa uh

the arts and spiritual understanding. And of course, it's no coincidence that this happened at the same time in my life. They were really the same event. One through the faculty of perception and the other through thought and

Uh Michael was a he was a um a fierce irascible, unpredictable um highly intelligent and articulate uh but also he was very very soft, very tender um and you just never know what you were going to get from from one moment to

feeling. So, that if we can say that as human beings we think, we feel, and we perceive on all thr...

It seemed that most of our time was spent cooking and gardening and that we made pots in our spare time. But it was it was like a whole kind of it was like a reeducation.

Um he he was just just unlike he was like an old Zen master. Of course, I I I wouldn't I didn't even realize it at the time, but later looking back on him, I I realized he it's not like I don't think he was like

a Zen master. I think he was a Zen master. Although he would never speak directly of of any of these matters, but his whole approach to to to life, to the pottery um it was like living with a with a Zen

master. You had to be constantly on on on on on your toes, on on on high alert.

Um and nothing was said directly. Um give you an example. I I remember um I'd been making bowls. I'd been there for about 6 months. I'd been making bowls all day and was beginning to be a little you know, I thought I'm really beginning

to get I was feeling pleased with myself. And and Michael, it was um the workshop was a long was an old inn that he had converted. It was the skittle alley of the inn. So, it was a long,

narrow room. He walked into the room one end of the room and kind of made his way up through the through the workshop to where I was working at the other end. And then for a long time he

stood surveying these these lines of of of bowls. I'm sure he didn't do it on on purpose, but as he was doing so, I could feel my my pride kind of rising as as I presumed he he he was

you know, not noticing my progress. And I was a expecting to receive my first proper accolade from him. And I remember I can still I can close my eyes and see and hear him saying it now. He said,

"Rupert, you haven't begun to take this shape into yourself." And left. And that was that that that was how that was how the teaching worked. That was how the apprenticeship worked. There would be no more conversation about it. There'd be

no explanation. It would be up to you to take the medicine and find out what he he by it. And um make the necessary correction. On another occasion, I was um turning the foot rings on a bowl and he

came in and on a series of bowls he he came in and and he said um Look at these bowls. These bowls aren't like real people, they're like actors on a stage.

And then and then left and and you were just left just wanting the earth to swallow you up. It was just feeling completely completely crushed.

But also not knowing exactly what was meant. You had to find out then what was meant.

And then on another occasion uh we were packing the kiln. It was this huge wood-fired kiln and uh he had decorated a series of large dishes.

And I it was my job to to pack them all in the kiln. It was rather precarious. I had stacked them all up one on top of the another. There must have been 14, 15, or 16 of these big beautiful

painted dishes. And there were kind of bricks around they they were fired upside down on their unglazed rims and there were bricks around each one. Anyway, uh um I obviously didn't realize, but I one of the bricks at the bottom must

have been loose. Anyway, during the firing they collapsed. Of course, we we didn't know this because it's all sealed up and firing takes 36 hours. It's an old big huge wood-fired kiln. Then it takes a week to cool down. So,

uh after a after a week we came to unpack the kiln and and all the dishes had had collapsed onto each other. And then because it because the kiln's fired to 1,300°, they had all welded into a into this

ugly gnarled mass of of of split dishes with the glazes all kind of welded into each other. It was a it was a terrible sight and I I had to go and tell Michael who who at that time was writing

his autobiography. He used to have an uh I kind of office up above the the the stable.

And so I I remember going to him. I mean, I I was just in trepidation, shaking. I was so afraid.

I remember going to him, Mike Michael, and then I explained to him. Uh he just smiled at me so gently. He said, "Rupert, don't worry. It won't be the last time in your life that something like this happens." And

carried on writing. It was like no he couldn't have been no no never mentioned it again. It was just So, you you just you just never knew. It was it was an extraordinary You you learned by by observation, by

listening. It was never direct. It was you you just had to and and this is why you know, I lived with him. I I cooked for him. I gardened for him. It was like a total immersion experience.

Uh but it had a profound um effect on me. It was he introduced me to a way of life, a way of thinking that was so at odds with my education.

Um it was a real real privilege to to spend and then he died shortly after I left. So, I had the the last 2 years of his life with him.

What was that contrast then? What between your the education that you'd experienced and that had cost your father a great deal of money and what what you learned from Michael Cardew?

What you say I mean, you've described these moments of uh of Zen-like uh utterances.

Uh you know, you haven't begun to take this the shape inside of you, for example, or these pots these bowls are just uh actors on a stage, they're not real people, that sort of thing. Um I'm curious actually in those moments, did

you did you know what he meant? Did could you see what he was pointing to?

Uh and then it took time to understand how to make it not so? Or No, at the time I immediately I I I didn't see what he meant and and that was really part of the education. One one was

refining one's own um refining one's own way of seeing. And and that took time.

It it took time for one's own uh faults to become apparent. And he was not going to come up and describe them to me. He was just he was criticizing the bowls.

He wasn't saying anything about me, but my it was the bowls were an extension or an expression of my attitude. So, it you you had to go you had to go inside yourself. You had to find the place in

yourself from which your work was coming. That's where the adjustment it wasn't like just changing the shape of something on the outside cuz the outside was just corresponding with the attitude on the inside which had given rise to

it. So, it was a but you had to find that for yourself. And it was a process of of of uh combination of conversation, observation, trying over and over again.

Michael's son Seth worked in the in the studio and another another apprentice as well. So, it it was um it was a non-rational exploration. It it it these if I had asked Michael, "What what do you mean I

haven't taken this shape into myself?" Well, he was extremely articulate. He probably could have said something about it, but but he it The training took place below the threshold of the rational mind. Whereas much of my education up until that point

had been directed towards the rational mind. So, it kind of introduced me to a whole realm of experience that was so to speak just below the surface. Uh that um and he kind of opened opened me up to that

to that world. It it's really the world of the um the realm that the arts and and poetry and and and literature addresses. And I think that I had not that it was not available, to be fair, in in my education. It probably would

have been, but it's not if I had if I had perhaps gone more in that direction, maybe I would have found it there. But for whatever reason I I didn't. It took this this um uh this this meeting with Michael. He

was like a force of nature. It it it took it took this meeting with him to open me up to this whole new possibility. The possibility, for instance, of um really it's it's the experience of beauty, the power of beauty, the the

power of an object to somehow cut through the conceptual edifice through which we perceive reality and to take us directly to that experience. What what Cézanne said when he said that I want my I want my work to give people a taste of

nature's eternity. I don't want to describe nature's eternity to people. I want to get I want them I want it it's it's it's much more intimate than that.

I want them to have a taste of reality. Well Michael uh helped me initiated me really into into understanding that objects have this power.

It's not just words. Yes, the the understanding to a degree can be described in word words, but this was like a visceral transmission.

And it was something completely new in my life and and quite it was very powerful.

And um I was very very fortunate to to to to have met him early on in my in my life.

One last question on Michael Cardew then. Uh at that time, as you said, you were also heavily involved in various spiritual uh studies as you outlined previously.

Was Michael aware of that? Did you ever discuss that with him and what did he ever express an opinion on that?

Well um I don't know how aware it was rather strange rather a strange circumstance.

Michael's wife, Muriel, uh they they were um they were married, but they lived apart.

Michael lived at Wenford Bridge um just below the village of St Breward on the edge of Bodmin Moor in Cornwall. And Muriel lived in a flat overlooking overlooking the river Thames in Barnes in London. And Muriel used to um to come

down from time to time and and stay, which of course I I loved because she was a lovely feminine presence in an otherwise rather um male and monastic institution. Um Muriel went to Colet House where I had first gone as a 16-year-old

and had learned the Mevlevi turning, had learned mantra meditation, Gurdjieff's movements. And um she was very involved at Colet House from and and so I knew her independently of Michael through through uh um Colet House.

Michael didn't know this as far as I know. And for for a reason why I never really understood, Muriel wanted me to keep it quiet. She she she said, "Don't don't don't don't let on that we know know

each other." And I I I'm I'm not sure about this. Michael disapproved, I think, of um uh the the activities that went on at at Colet House. It was too um I always felt that he disapproved of any attempt

to articulate the nature of reality in the terms of the rational mind. He felt that it it belonged in a realm to which the rational mind has no access and of course he's quite right. And therefore, to which the rational mind

has no right to speak of. He felt his work spoke of it. And that one should not speak directly about it. So, I think for this reason he um I think he disapproved of Mario's activities. He he And I think that Mario

was concerned that if he knew that I was directly influ- interested in these matters that it might somehow um tarnish our relationship. I'm not sure that it would, but but um So, I definitely kept that side of my life

quiet. Um of course, in the evenings I would go up to my room and I was reading uh Ramana Maharshi and Rumi and and but I was I was I was very private.

I would I would never I would never mention that. And of course, when Mario came down occasionally, we would have conversations about it. But we carried on as if as if we we didn't let the shared interest um we didn't expose it to Michael. Mhm.

And perhaps the last question on pottery then on your career as a as a ceramic artist.

Uh You had a career of 30 30 years, over 30 years. And in that time, garnered international renown and um various techniques you were known for um uh as it was we need to necessarily go into them scra- sgraffito. Is that how you

pronounce it? Yes. Yes, sgraffito. Yes. Yes. Sgraffito, yeah. And things like this, marvelous uh work.

You talked there about some of the makings of a ceramic artist. But what does it take over a span of 30 years to continue to produce work, to continue to elaborate?

I don't suppose you can just repeat yourself. Uh what does it take uh in terms of um I don't know quite how to say it actually. Um the themes you've brought up here in terms of your initiation that Michael

Cardew provided you with, uh presumably those themes then un- un- unpack and elaborate or continue through throughout the arc of a 30-year career. Uh what what does it take to um produce that kind of art over that that

kind of uh sustained period of time? Uh I always felt that I was looking for something, wanting to express something.

Now I would I would call it beauty. I don't think I conceptualized it to myself in those terms at the time.

But there was always a certain quality that I was looking for in my work. When I went to the whenever I was in a foreign city, I'd always go to the national museum or the archaeological museums. And when I saw the collections

of the the ceramics particular- particularly of the of the um of particular- the Far Eastern traditions, the Chinese particularly, the Korean uh there there was a certain quality uh in these works and and I always had the the feeling I

I want that I want to make pots with that quality, that that expressive, that communicative.

And I always had the feeling that I was failing. So, there was always a feeling that I was approaching something, refining and refining and refining this um intangible quality which was nevertheless the most important thing ab- about about any object that one made

and was truly its its expressive power. And so I there was always this elusive and yet unformulated goal towards which I felt that I was approaching, always failing to a greater or lesser extent.

And it was this sense of always failing, always being dissatisfied that that kept me going.

So, there was always I always knew at least what the next step was. I always felt I was being pulled forward, so to speak. And all I needed to know was the next step, because you can only ever take the next step. There was

always this feeling. Soon as I'd uh I'd worked for two or three months, had a had a had a firing looked at the pots soon as they were out, I lost interest in them.

Now, you might think that's the interesting bit. No, no, no, no, that's not the interesting bit. As soon as you you look at them and you you immediately see what's lacking in them. I just wanted to put them on one side to to to to to get out

of my sight. I wanted to go back to my studio and start again. Try again. So, I'd make the same thing over I was making begin with tableware, but more and more uh latterly I was just making bowls. I

would just want to go back. I'd I'd make them over and over again. And then each time there would be this confrontation with the firing.

You'd see I I felt like like like the Zen master who said, "All I see are my mistakes." When you unpack a kiln, you know, if there was ever a visitor there, they are these marvelous things coming out of the

kiln. No, I never saw any marvelous things coming out of the kiln. All I could see were were the the the um the few the the the things that were wrong. All I could see were my mistakes.

And then there was this impulse to go straight back into the studio and rectify those mistakes, try to make something that was that was that that that appro- that approximated more and more closely as closely to this idea of

uh beauty for want of a better word. But then I noticed that towards the end of that 30 years uh um I that the next step ceased appearing.

I I felt at one stage I'd done all I can do. I I've refined this process. I've taken it as far and I began in the last couple of years I began to get this feeling uh there isn't a next step.

It doesn't mean to say that I felt that I had arrived. There was never the feeling of having arrived. But it was like I was no longer being pulled inexorably forward towards this this goal. It was as if it it kind of

petered out. I I I had the feeling a number of times in the last few years I I've done everything I can do in this medium.

There's and of course, it's no coincidence at all that at around that time I wrote Transparency of Things. I began to speak about these matters. And over a period of a couple of years I began using a different kind of

medium. As I said once, I started making bowls out of words instead of bowls out of clay. And that that was no that was no coincidence, of course, that that that my work as a potter just over a number of years it it it it just

came to an end as this new possibility opened up. And what's interesting and it's really uncanny is that I the trajectory of my life as a potter is almost identical to the trajectory as my life as uh um

uh what one who speaks and writes about about these matters. I started off with a uh I did my apprenticeship so to speak with Francis Lucia. And I was utterly devoted to him as I was to to um

to Michael Cardew. Uh you know, in both cases their words were gospel. Um I I surrendered myself to to use kind of traditional language. I I kind of surrendered myself to to both of them. I surrendered any desire or will that I

had. I just put myself it it under them to to to absorb and imbibe and learn what they had to give, because in both cases I recognized something that that's what I want.

And and and so there was this very there was this apprenticeship uh which lasted longer with Francis than it did with Michael. It was 13 or so years. And then uh um I I I uh um not I I never moved away in my heart,

but but I I I stopped attending meetings and retreats. I began was equivalent to starting my own studio. I left Michael Cardew's pottery. I started my own uh um started my own studio. I started making my own things. I I did the equivalent

wi- wi- wi- with Francis. I left. I started holding retreats at Church Farm. And just as I had done with Michael, the first bowls I made were very similar to Michael's. I remember the head of ceramics at Bonhams auction house said

to me once after a few years, "Rupert, when are you going to stop making pots like Michael Cardew's?" And it had never occurred to me to stop making pots like Michael Cardew. I was just just naturally doing what came

naturally to me. And I had trained with Michael. So, inevitably I had imbibed his language. And that was language was in it was evident in my own language. It took several years for for Michael's language to fade and for

my own voice to begin to express itself. And exactly the same happened with Francis. When I started giving my own retreats I've no doubt that my language, my my metaphors, my lines of reasoning were all uh um highly influenced by him, because I had

surrendered my mind so deeply to him. It was only over the years that slowly slowly slowly his voice faded.

And and and and my own voice began to to to take over. And so so the way I express myself now is almost unrecognizable from Francis. Just as the pots that I made towards the end of my career as a

ceramic artist were completely unrecognizable. You would never have known that I was a student of of Michael Cardew's. But it But it takes time. But I noticed it was the same process. Just that I was making this bowls over and over and over again,

refining and refining and refining and refining. It's exactly the same process. Speaking about these matters, which is really always the same matter, the nature of reality, the nature of the self and but but speaking about it, every time I

speak of it, it's a refinement. It becomes more economical, clearer, cleaner, more precise, more experiential, more efficient. And the same process is going on. And I sometimes wonder because of the the similarity of these two apprenticeships, these two um

careers for want of a better Well, not all I'd never suggest what I was doing now was a career, but look I sometimes wonder whether they will end in a similar way.

Remember I said about the pottery after 13 years, I I over the last couple of years, I thought a number of times I there's nothing else for me to say in this medium. I've said I've gone as far

as I can go. I've stretched the medium as far as I can go. This is no longer the right medium. And I sometimes wonder with my with my love my love of language, my desire to um express the non-dual

understanding with these clean, clear, efficient um pathways, lines of reasoning, and and and speaking about the same thing over and over again, refining my language. I sometimes wonder whether in a number of years time I'll feel I've done everything I can do in

words. That I now want to express myself in a different way. And what would that way be? I think it would go more towards silence.

I think that would be the the final medium. First of all, it was clay, and it was words.

So, there was a refinement from clay to words. And then I think the the natural refinement would be from words to silence. And in fact, I notice it now.

Not so much in my online meetings because it doesn't work so well online, but I certainly notice it in my live retreats.

I've been starting them again. There's more and more silence. There are less words, more silence. I think that's the way it's tending.

So, we'll see. We'll see. But I I wonder whether it it the the similarity between these two trajectories is so uncannily similar.

It's as if I'm kind of following an archetypal process that has been handed down in apprenticeships and and and with students and disciples and and for for centuries.

The similarities between those two arcs, uh if we could as another word than career, I suppose it was career, isn't it? Um was not lost on me, actually. And uh but you've drawn some other parallels there.

You know, one of my questions that I had planned to ask you a bit later was, you are quite prolific, actually. And you're in your retreats, you said now it's tending more and more towards silence. But in your retreats,

the format is very often dialogue uh with people uh as one of the main ways of um expounding on these the themes of your work.

And um I was going to ask you, from where does this energy come from?

Uh don't you ever uh get tired of striking striking that note? You've described your teaching as very simple teaching. And you said you've learned learned only very simple a very simple thing. And then it's just expressing that in all these different ways. I

wonder but that but now uh hearing you talk about your your relationship to uh your ceramic work, now I perhaps uh begin to understand a little bit more about that. I'm curious if you have the same relationship to your teachings as

you did to your pots when they came out of the kiln. Uh Perhaps I'll say one more thing about that. I remember I remember on one occasion I was uh I attended a talk of yours in San Jose.

And sitting next to me I was a friend of mine who's very um also a very claimed author.

And we were sitting there, and he was talking to me about what you were saying, but not the content of what you were saying. What he said, uh He said it was I can't quite replicate the tone. But he

said, "You know, the thing about Rupert is, he just speaks, and you could write it down, and it would be a book." He was commenting on on just what you said, the way you speak. And I know that, for

instance, your team sent me this book of yours, Being Myself. And it's more or less a transcription of what you say. And of course, maybe some edits here and there, but on the on the you do speak as if you're

reading from your book, which then comes from what you've spoken. So, anyway, I'm wondering um do you have the same relationship to your teachings like this book? Does this book look like one of your old pots to you?

Um In in a way it does. Uh um Uh actually to talk about the way the book looks, um Rob, my um who does all the design and everything on the book. He He and I spend a um

a ridiculous and embarrassing amount of time fussing over all the the the details, that the the size, the shape, the proportion, the color, the texture, the the because it it's always my intention that when you pick up a book, even before you

open it, it should convey subliminally its meaning. And in fact, the best compliment I've ever had from anyone about any of my books was an email I received from someone who I can't remember the I think it was the the one the book that

preceded Being Myself, Being Aware of Being Aware. He said, "I picked it up." He said, "I just held the book in my hand and looked at it and its cover.

And the experience took me the the the doing so took me to the experience of being aware of being aware." It was a beautiful I don't He didn't realize, I don't think, but to me that was like a

the highest compliment. The the the the the non-verbal experience of of just holding the book looking at it, it had conveyed its content.

And and of course, the the the same was true of my work as an artist. That's what I I wanted to subliminally convey in a pre-verbal way. I want I wanted I wanted my work to take like Cezanne

said, to give people a taste of nature's eternity. Um But to go back to what you said about being prolific, I was very prolific uh um as an artist. Not that I made a lot of pots, which actually I I I did do, but

but but it was it was my life. It was not It was never my work. It was never That's why my the word career that I used 5 minutes ago was inappropriate.

It was not a career, it was my life. It was I I lived it and breathed it. It was just an extension of my life. So, I was There was never any My my workshop was always at my home. And um

there was no distinction between my life as a work as an artist and my life at home. And really, the non-dual understanding is is the same. It's the it's my entire life. And now speaking about it, writing about it, expressing

itself, I don't it's something that's so integral to my life. And I have this great energy. I love to to communicate my understanding, such as it is, through writing, through words. So, there's nothing I enjoy more than being

with friends on a retreat, um exploring these matters. And I have And I mean this literally.

Um sometimes people ask me I'm not implying that you've asked me this. You haven't. But sometimes people ask me, "Don't you get bored always hearing the same question?" I've been asked that a couple of times recently. And and

I remember thinking, "But I've never been asked the same question." If I thought that I was being asked the same question, then yes, I would be bored.

But I have never heard the same question twice. If if If I ever did feel that, that would be the time to stop teaching.

Because I would be referring on hearing the question, I would be referring to my past. I would not be going to the the place in that person from which their question comes. And if you go to that place, it's fresh every single

time, simply by virtue of the fact that the person's question is their real question. It's coming from their from their understanding, from their feeling in that moment. And your your your job as a so-called teacher, for want of a better word, is is is to go to

that place in themselves, to find them there, to meet them there, and then to begin to walk with them. So, I I I never have the feeling of of being bored. Nor is it tiring. What I tend to

notice is that at the end of a of a week of retreat or two two weeks of retreat, I tend to notice then I'm tired.

Um but during during the event itself, um it's it's tiring in in a tremendous amount of energy. You're you're you're giving out a tremendous amount of energy, but it's not tiring in a in a draining or exhausting way. It's

it's tiring in in a actually in a very pleasant way. You just feel you're giving the whole of yourself to whatever is in front of you.

And if it's tiring, well, too bad. So what? You're just just giving yourself completely. What what else would one rather be doing?

And I think it was exactly the same in in the pottery. I was just giving myself 100% to to to to to to my life as a potter making making these things.

It seems like in art, for example, there are different ways to appreciate a piece of art.

One way is for art to strike you as it is. Like you said, you look at the book and it's just something about it or the whatever the piece of art might be. And on its own merit, if you'd like, or on

the way in which it impacts you, it's valued somehow. And that could be, if you have the eye for it, technical detail, for example, or it could just be something, you know, ineffable about it that just gets you. And then the other

way, of course, is to derive the value of a work inferentially by uh the value of the creator.

Uh it by in that sense, uh there can be um uh um perhaps this this is somewhat to do with marketing, but there can be a sense of a make making a something of the creator, creating a legend or making a

celebrity of them and so on. So, the piece, in a certain sense, becomes owning a a piece of them, or it becomes a proximity to that sort of legend, if you like.

And I wonder if uh maybe we're stretching the similarities or I'm stretching the similarities too much here. But I wonder your your work uh now constantly coming back to direct experience, direct experience, um always bring coming back to that.

I wonder also if this dynamic is possible in terms of spiritual teaching or whatever we could say that sort of cult of personality, if you like, um or to say it more psychologically projection.

Looking at you on the stage, or whoever it might be on the stage, and saying, "Wow, you know, this is the really enlightened person." And etc. etc.

Perhaps missing the point in that way. I'm wondering what you think about that idea um becoming as you have so well known all around the world now as a spiritual teacher.

Um I imagine uh you deal with a degree of that. People wanting you to be something or someone or something like that for them somehow. Uh do you experience that at all? And if so, how do how do you

navigate it? And is the comparison to the art world uh appropriate here? Huh, that's a very interesting question.

I think I think what you say is very true in in both worlds. Uh um Particularly nowadays, the of the two scenarios you described, you see much more of of of the latter, where the the work in itself,

uh um apart from its maker or creator, has no real intrinsic value. Uh and I don't mean intrinsic value. I mean has no real aesthetic uh or or even intellectual value. It's it's a symbol of the maker. And as you

rightly say, by owning a piece of the art, you feel that you somehow subs- if not own a part of the artist, you subscribe to a club that is run by the artist, and by doing so, your own sense of yourself is

aggrandized by association. I would say that accounts for a lot of today's art world.

Um Now, going on uh transferring that to the to the spiritual realm, I think a lot of that also takes place.

Um The as you say, the cult of the personality, um in which the um uh you you your affiliation with a particular person uh um is is uh cultivated uh and um promoted by the person, and in in a way that becomes the

it it the that becomes primary in in the relationship. You're and and or in in in ironically, one one's ego, one's sense of being a separate self, is aggrandized by association with a person who, in this particular field, is considered to

to to um uh have a certain stature. And and and ironically, in in this field particularly when so much of spirituality is about the diminishing of the sense of separation or the ego.

So, to what extent do I feel this takes place in in my life? Uh for the first couple of years, when I started um speaking about these matters, I was not aware of people's projection.

I was naive about this. And um but after a couple of years, it it I I couldn't help but notice it. And I also realized that it was uh um that it was that it was naive of me not to notice

it, but that also it was uh um it was not only naive of me, but but that it was my responsibility as a so-called teacher, by putting myself in the position that I was in, speaking, holding retreats, holding meetings, I had a responsibility

not to pretend that this projection was not taking place, but to see the projection, to understand it, and to learn to deal with it.

To uh to to turn the projection around, and and and hand it back. Now, it took me a couple of years to uh notice the projection.

If I think if I'm honest, I didn't really want to notice it. There was a degree of naivety in myself, and I think also a degree of denial.

In my I just didn't want to acknowledge that it was happening. And I I realized, as I said, that this was it was irresponsible of me not to acknowledge it. So, after a while, I began to to notice it, and I

began to to, I hope, develop um skillful ways of turning it around. But above all, being very careful not to buy it or pull for it in any way.

Uh because it's hugely seductive. Or at least if there is an ego present who uh requires other people's uh respect, adulation, admiration, if one's if one's sense of oneself needs to be enhanced by other people in this way,

then, you know, the the this it it um being a spiritual teacher is is is perfect for for such an ego. And and we see this so often.

Um So, uh I had to check um one, that there was nothing in myself that was uh uh subtly being enhanced or aggrandized by this by the increasing respect and admiration that I I was receiving.

Um I was very clear uh that there wasn't anything in me. But it's something that it's not just a a recognition I came to once. It's something that I've always been very vigilant about. And then I I took great

care to uh um to to find ways of turning the projection around. Of not of not um buying it. And I remember having a very interesting conversation with um my friend Bernardo Kastrup in in the early days, and he said, "Well, the

trouble is, Rupert, the more you do to throw yourself off the pedestal, the higher the pedestal becomes." And um I recognized that there is some some truth in that, that that I uh for instance, I I I recognize at least that one can seem

to try to throw oneself off the pedestal, whilst at the same time subtly pulling for people's attention.

Somebody asks you um this never happened to me, but but somebody asks a teacher, "Why do you continue to allow uh um your students to come and kiss your feet?" And and and and and you answer, "Oh, it

it's nothing to do with me. It's just I just leave them free to do whatever they like. It's a This this pretends that what is taking place is not being orchestrated by you.

To me is an example of someone who tries to take themselves off the pedestal but in the fact at the same time colludes with their being on the pedestal.

So um I'm I take a lot of care in my retreats not to send any message whatsoever that I'm different from anybody else.

And of course I No one would actually say that but there are ways that one can behave. One can behave in in such a way that you convey this attitude subliminally. For instance, I remember the first time I went to

Omega. And I was being at the first time I held a retreat there I was being shown around the the I think you've talked at Omega, haven't you? So you remember the big dining hall there where seats 400 people

and that so I was shown around and then the person showing me around said and then this little room here, this is where the teachers eat.

And I remember she took me into this miserable little room shut off from everywhere else where I was supposed to have lunch and dinner on my own. I looked at her and said you you've got to be joking. You

You expect me to have dinner in here on my own but what what about all my all my all the people that are attending the retreat? I want to to be Oh no no she said this is this is so that you can be

apart from them so that they won't bother you so so And and I realized so of course I I never used the room if if I um if I'm on a retreat I just sit down at the table like everybody else and and

and join in the the conversation and Actually actually it was on this last retreat on the West Coast of the Mercy Center I think I said during a meeting once we were talking about this and I said you know there's nothing I

like more than sitting down at a meal with a whole group of you around the table and to be completely ignored by you.

It's like nobody nobody stops talking and nobody turns to you in a differential way. No no no it's just like you sit down like everybody else. Yeah 10 minutes later your next to them might turn around and say something to you but I I

I I go out of my way to to to be exactly the same. And as as every in little details I sit in the same kind of chair.

I don't need to Why should I sit on a chair that's more comfortable than everybody else? Why should I sit on a chair that's bigger than anybody else's?

They've got to sit for 2 hours on a chair. Why shouldn't I? Um I don't expect people to stop talking when I come into a room. Well why why should people stop talking when I come into the room? I mean nobody stops

talking when anybody else walks into the room. It's I I And And And these are the little details but they're not little details. It's in these kind of behaviors where a sense of hierarchy is established. Um I could give you more examples but but

suffice to say that I'm I I I think I I've searched my heart. I think this is 100% genuine. I I do my my very best and I I say to people please do not think of me or refer to me as a

spiritual teacher. I do not consider myself a teacher. I like friendship. I I like I want to be your friend. I want to be I want you to be my friend.

It's a like a kind of spiritual friendship. That's the that's the quality of this relationship. There's absolutely no hierarchy in it. If you're asking me a question you temporarily become a student. I temporarily become a teacher but if I ask you a question then I

become your student and you become my teacher. And in the absence of any question or answer we're neither a teacher nor a student. We're just friends.

With no hierarchy at all. So I think that's very important and I think it's in these little details that the real teaching takes place.

I think this is where the the I think this is where you can really tell the quality of a teaching not just in the fine words that are used but but but in the actual quality of the relationship that takes place in the

community of people that that that gather around the teaching. Sorry that was rather a long-winded answer. I hope I've I've responded to your to your question. You have, yeah.

And you're right it's not only the grand grand behavior it's also the guru doth protest too much kind of behavior.

Absolutely and yes exactly and and that is more pernicious in a way because it it it it escapes on the whole it it remains below the the the radar of the rational mind so it escapes notice and and is the more dangerous for it. Yes.

Yeah. So when you're an artist working in ceramics with the sort of it's your life. You described it as your life and I would imagine that there's something about coming back to the workshop day after day that can

keep you honest. In the midst of acclaim or whatever else smoke might be blown in your direction.

Um I would imagine. I can't see a correlation with what you're doing now. I can't see many So I'm asking you I suppose is there a similar sort of is there a workshop that functions to keep you honest in some

sense? Um one of the things that I think can happen in both worlds that can be a sort of feedback loop.

Oh. They like it. I guess it must be good. I guess I must be good. I guess I must be a great artist or I guess I guess I must be you know enlightened. Gosh maybe these words which I hadn't really

thought that much about might have been responding very well. Gosh I guess I must be maybe I've got it. I guess I have it. Something like this. This sort of feedback loop anyway.

So I'm wondering if if there's a workshop for you in that same way. And also I'm wondering that um something that perhaps can happen is the artist or themselves can begin to confuse the acclaim with the value of what they're producing.

So therefore they can become artists of attracting acclaim. Yes. As via pots. Yes. As opposed to artists of you know ceramics who attracted you know which attracts acclaim via the ceramics.

Yes. Yes. Um So it seems that's harder to avoid in your current activities than your prior activities. Perhaps I'm wrong about that. You're right because as an artist it was my it was my work that went out into the world on my

behalf. I just spent 30 years in my studio. So the acclaim was indirect. Whereas what I'm doing now it's me as a person that goes out into the world and it is me as a person that that that

receives the acclaim. So it's um It's not true of all artists who become public figures but I was very private as an artist. I spent my life in my studio. I never went anywhere for 30 years except for you know when I was

having an exhibition or my family of course but um So I was never a personality as an artist.

I was rather actually rather reclusive. I just spent my life in my studio whereas now it's obviously I go as a person to speak at meetings and retreats so the the the acclaim is direct.

You know I I think that if one is relatively free of ego oneself I don't mean to say that one is perfect.

I don't think anyone is perfect but to the degree that one is free of ego oneself that message is subliminally conveyed without having to speak of it and it places the other in the correct relationship to us.

And that if we in turn are in the presence of someone with very little ego we are almost compelled at least those of us that are sensitive to these matters. It's not always the case but we are almost compelled by the way they

comport themselves to behave in a reciprocal way. So I feel that I get very little um adulation.

Um Yes people respect me but no more than I respect them. There's very little on my on my retreats if you didn't if you didn't have to attend one of the formal meetings themselves, you'd be hard-pressed to know who was in

charge. If you If you're walking around the the building, apart from informal meetings, obviously, because I'm sitting up front, but apart from that, you you wouldn't know who was who was in charge.

Um So, I don't I don't feel that that now I I feel people are I think the quality of people that come to my meetings and retreats is so is so high. They're such a refined group of people.

That they are not themselves people who need to make me into uh a a great personality, a great teacher. That that that they're because that's an ego that needs to do that.

Um And even if someone does come to begin with with that attitude, they get taken up by the by the group of friends, the people that have been around this teaching for a while, and they very quickly that that projection

is dropped. That they learn from the others, from the old-timers, very quickly that that this is just is we just don't do that cult personality thing. After a couple of days, people people get the hang of it. So, I

I don't really feel it's something I have to deal with very much now. Yeah, very fascinating. Thank you. So, we have only a little time left, and we haven't really talked much about your teachings themselves, but that's a

little bit deliberate. I think it's been so fascinating what you've said, and you've actually said an awful lot about about your approach. And of course, your I mentioned your prolific all over the internet. Just type in Rupert Spira on

YouTube, and many many interviews going into great depth, many many talks going into great depth. So, um that's all that's all readily available, and I'd encourage people to to check it out.

Well, couple of a couple of questions though in that area. Um You've said, and this is I think a great quote, "I modeled myself from Ramana Maharshi for 20 years, and failed spectacularly." That's very interesting. And you also

said, and now we're covering a lot of ground in in um in two statements, that your time with Francis Lucille uh helped you resolve an inner conflict you had between your love of truth and your love of beauty. Yes.

I'm wondering if you could explain those two statements. Yes, certainly. Well, when I was young, I had these these two loves. I I I loved these two overriding interests. I'm talking now kind of my my late teens through my 20s, when I had my

first studio, my first workshop. By day, I would be making objects, making pots. You could hardly get an earthier uh profession than making pots out of clay and water and fire and and by night, I was going back to my

to the converted barn where where I um lived, um practicing mantra meditation, studying Ramana Maharshi. I was passionately interested in in truth or reality, for want of a better word. So, I had these two loves.

And um Uh of course, I the third aspect of I also loved love itself. I loved relationship but um there were these two um two main interests, um truth and and and and beauty. But the um in the

classical uh system of Advaita Vedanta, the the um as you well know, the approach very often starts off with a negation of objective experience. I'm not my mind.

I'm that which is aware of my mind. I'm not the body. I'm that which knows the experience of the body. I'm not the world. I'm that which perceives the world. The the classic neti neti, I am not this,

not this, not this approach. And some traditional schools of Advaita Vedanta don't go further than that.

Uh and I don't mean any criticism by that. It's a valid path, but they they they uh they stop at what I call the inward-facing path. This turning of the attention away from the content of experience back towards the source of

attention, awareness itself. And that was um that was the path I was initially on. And so, in this in this approach, that there was um It was very mild in in in my case. There was no in in in the

teaching that I was studying, there was no rejection of the world and the body, but it was not really included in one's meditation, in one's exploration.

Uh um Now, uh um by day, I was making objects out of out of um clay, water, fire. So, there was a contradiction here for me. I loved making things, objects.

And yet, philosophically, I was always being I was always turning my attention away from the objective content. That the the world was considered a distraction.

Um objects were considered to be made out of stuff called matter, as opposed to one's true nature of pure consciousness. So, there was this tension, this conflict between in me, between my love of objects, and my interest in that

which knows the objective content of experience. And and this was a It was It was um It was a source of conflict for me. I felt that these two passions were somehow mutually exclusive.

And it was supported, at least subtly, by the the classical Advaita teaching. And it wasn't until I met Francis, and it was It's one of the things that I'm perhaps most grateful for, that I that that I realized that my

love of truth and my love of beauty are in fact They're They're not mutually exclusive. On the contrary, they are the same love.

That beauty is just the name we give to reality when we approach it through perception.

And truth is the name we give to reality when we approach it through thought. And love is the name we Well, happiness is the name we give to reality when we approach it through emotion.

But I had considered truth and beauty to be opposite, and therefore in conflict with each other.

And it wasn't until uh I met Francis that I realized that this was a misunderstanding, that they were in fact two facets of the same love. And really, that that reconciled something that had been really very troubling for me. And in fact, my career as an

artist kind of began to take off then, because it was no longer I was I no longer felt apologetic about it.

I had felt apologetic, at least to a degree, about it, because it somehow conflicted with my study of the Vedantic tradition. Now that this removed that conflict, and it was enable I It It enabled me to give myself 150%

to my work as an artist, without holding anything back for the sake of truth.

Yes, that's quite remarkable. That's quite remarkable, indeed. What did it do for your search for truth? Or your study of truth. That's what it did for your art. What did it do for your study of truth? Did it bring something

to that? Or open that up in a similar way that it opened up your ability to give yourself 150% to your work as an I Yes, I think up until that time, my my love of truth had been something that I

kind of explored in private, in my bedroom, early in the morning and late in the evening, when I wasn't at work, when I wasn't doing anything else. It was a I never spoke about it to anyone.

It was a private interior uh um exploration. And of course, it carried on during my day, but it was something inner, private, inner. I think this this removed And and of course, my my interest in beauty was to do with my

work in the world, objects, materials, activities. And this this I think it removed uh not only the conflict between my love of truth and my love of beauty, but it brought my love of truth out into the world. It It It ceased to be something

private. It integrated more with my everyday life. Uh the the the the this barrier between my internal life and my life out in the world, it it it began to diminish. Uh um I I I didn't feel there were there were two

camps in my life, two two two two different elements. That that they It It kind of unified my life.

Everything I was doing, it was all essentially about one thing. Marvelous. Now, perhaps one question to to end then on a little bit on this theme.

One often one sometimes hears of artists uh who are also involved in this I don't know, the study of truth, as you could say or religious or spiritual leanings, whatever we say. I know this is a horrible way of saying it, but in

the last There you go. I've said it that way. Um that as they go deeper into the so to say spiritual side actually that can eclipse the art.

And they in a certain sense they they can no longer produce the art because either something has been resolved uh in themselves that makes the the friction that seems necessary to to sort of um motivate art uh somehow that's been resolved or

quieted by the their spiritual quest or so. So, one sometimes hears that that I was a poet, I was a this, I was a that, and then X Y Z I I, you know, I had an experience or over time um

it the spiritual side just sort of subsumed the art somehow. And uh Yes. In your case it's very interesting that the deeper you went, it seems, at least through a lot of your career, actually liberated your art more.

Yes. That's very interesting. And it sounds like also you were saying there was a sense of complete of completion uh for want of a better word, in your artistic arc that happened to coincide with the beginning Yes. or overlap with

the beginning of your current arc of of the work you're doing now. And it wasn't necessarily that you had so many invitations to speak that you didn't have time to make pots anymore. Or that you uh were so became so uh absorbed in

the spiritual uh view that you no longer saw any uh value or motive uh to to continue art.

So, I suppose my question now is how do you see that relationship then between now between uh these uh different aspects of your life and that crossover period. Have I characterize it correct correctly? And if not, um where

have I where where I mischaracterized you? And what do you think of the the storyline of the artist being eclipsed by the spiritual uh impulse. Yes. Yes.

I think I think for many artists uh suffering is the fuel of their work.

And the their work is the means by which they explore that and um they seek refuge from their suffering in their work.

And it's for for some artists, it's only while they're working that they feel relief from the tyranny of their suffering. Now uh and and I'm I don't mean to imply in any way that that there's there's anything wrong with that or or

However if that is for those for whom that is the case if they become deeply interested in in spiritual matters and begin to find relief from their suffering through their spiritual inquiry then the motivation that previously underlay their art

will uh uh diminish and they may no longer feel any motive to work. As you say that that their impulse to to to work will be eclipsed by their interest in spiritual matters. However not all artists are motivated

by suffering. Uh It's quite possible that one would be uh motivated as an artist to to to um to penetrate through as for instance Cézanne was to to to penetrate through appearances to to to to somehow apprehend the reality that is appearing

to us as the world. And that one's art is the means by which one makes that exploration into the into the reality of the world that we perceive.

In in which case uh one's work as an artist it is of the highest spiritual order. It it is what a mystic is doing.

Um I don't penetrating deeply into themselves to know the essential nature of themselves or uh trying to penetrate through appearances to to see the the unity of being that lies behind the multiplicity. In which case the more deeply one goes into one's uh spiritual

inquiry or practice uh um uh the the the more deeply this informs your work as an artist. And your work as an artist will grow with as you mature spiritually. Now, I think I would I'm in the latter camp.

I'm not to say that I didn't have my fair share of suffering as I grew up, although I had basically a a happy childhood and a and a happy youth. But my I never uh approached the arts. I never had the

desire to become a potter in order to relieve suffering. On the contrary, when when I when I first saw that exhibition at the Candon Art Center of Michael's, I was I was blown away by the experience of beauty.

It was the first It wasn't the first time I'd experienced beauty, but it was the it was the most powerful experience of beauty I had ever had, and I just thought, I want to know what that is. I want to make things that

have that same power to to give people the taste of nature's eternity. Suffering didn't come into it.

Uh uh um So, I think that's why you you you very um astutely observe that that for me uh my my my work as an artist actually took off.

It was liberated. And and and and it followed it it just it became deeper and and deeper as my uh my exploration and investigation of of of the spiritual matters uh grew and became deeper. They went hand in hand.

Fascinating. Rupert Spira thank you very much. Thank you very much, Tim. It's been a pleasure speaking with you.

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