The Illusion of Closed Eyes: Why Truth Is Not Hidden
Photo: Royce Fonseca on Unsplash
We feed the strange fantasy that reality is a well-kept secret, a mystery reserved for initiates, or the ultimate prize of a long spiritual marathon. We project onto truth the need for effort, assuming that if we have not yet reached it, it is because it hides behind thick metaphysical veils. This insistence on seeking the extraordinary prevents us from noticing the obvious: reality is not hidden; we are simply too busy projecting who we should be to perceive it.
Egoism acts as a barrier between you and the truth. The truth is not veiled, it is not covered: it is always right in front of your eyes. If you miss it, it is not because of the truth, but because your eyes are closed.
— Osho, Before You Die - Ch. 5
The fundamental contradiction of the spiritual search lies in the fact that the seeker themselves is the obstacle. Egoism, or ahamkara, should not be understood here merely as moral selfishness or gross vanity, but as the basic mechanism of self-reference. It is the constant contraction of attention around an imaginary center that says "I exist separate from what I perceive." This center thrives on accumulating experiences, including so-called spiritual experiences. When we turn truth into an object to be achieved in the future, we close our eyes to the only space where reality presents itself: the immediate now.
The mind that seeks truth resembles someone wearing sunglasses at night and complaining about the lack of light. The problem does not lie in the physics of day and night, but in the filter we choose to keep before our vision. This filter is the unwavering belief in our isolated individuality. When we operate from this isolation, everything we perceive passes through the sieve of personal utility: "How does this affect me?", "What do I gain from this?", "How does this bring me closer to enlightenment?". This spiritual utilitarianism is the ultimate barrier.
This voluntary blindness manifests very concretely in our routine of expectations. We sit down to meditate demanding absolute silence, an absence of thoughts, or a state of ecstasy. In doing so, we reject the noise of the street, the discomfort in the body, and the very agitation of the mind. We judge these things to be distractions that cover up the truth. Yet, the truth of that moment includes the noise, the discomfort, and the agitation. By rejecting them in the name of an ideal of peace, we close our eyes to what actually is, in favor of a concept of what should be.
The intellect loves complexity because it gives it something to do. If truth were hidden behind complex rituals, indecipherable scriptures, or years of physical asceticism, the ego would be safe on its journey of self-improvement. It could take pride in every step taken toward the horizon. But the assertion that truth is "right in front of your eyes" is deeply threatening to this identity. If there is no distance to be traveled, the seeker loses their purpose. If truth is the simple fact of present existence, the search reveals itself as a futile movement of escape.
Ignorance, therefore, is not a lack of information that can be filled with more lectures, books, or philosophical concepts. In Advaita, essential ignorance is a distortion in perception. It is the act of looking at the infinite and seeing only one's own projections, fears, and desires for continuity. The ego functions like a dirty lens that insists on analyzing the dust upon itself, instead of simply allowing the light to pass through.
It is not about making a Herculean effort to open our eyes, for effort is just another attempt by the ego to control the process. It is about noticing the very activity of closing. What in us insists on rejecting the immediate? What in us needs truth to be difficult, distant, and special so that we can continue to feel important in our search?
