These breaks in the mental loop cannot be willed into being recognized. However, we can train to become more sensitive to their presence, especially with regard to common occurrences—for example, sneezing. In many societies, responses to sneezes offer protection against the invasion of an evil spirit; or it’s believed that sneezing can eject the soul from the body, and that saying bless you helps the soul return to its internal place. In all of these responses a sneeze is identified—as it is in Tibetan training—as an interruption of habitual mind chatter, a gap. Aah choo! For a split second, the mind stream is cut. The muttering mind is silenced. It cannot coexist with a sneeze. This is the real blessing. To suddenly be startled, or see a wild animal, or trip and fall, or learn of a life-threatening diagnosis, or see a natural phenomenon or an exquisite work of art, or anything that makes our heart skip a beat functions the same way. Yet we tend to place the mind over there—on the projected source of our reaction—and not on the mind itself. Without looking directly at the mind, we cannot recognize its clear, empty nature at that moment. Still, it’s important to know that we all share these ordinary moments of naked mind. And we can learn to recognize them.
Once we begin to examine these moments, and to gain some acceptance of their common occurrence, we might be amazed to discover how frequently moments in daily life stop our minds. Then we can take advantage of these natural events to access remarkable information about the true nature of who we are. With these flashes of naked mind, a mini-death occurs. For an instant, the self that we identify as our very existence ceases. The me that defines our identity and directs our functioning temporarily dies. But we do not die into nothingness; we die into deathless awareness.
Mingyur Rinpoche. In Love with the World: A Monk's Journey Through the Bardos of Living and Dying (pp. 107-108).
On my first retreat, I had an interview with Michael Taft where I proceeded to question him regarding my conceptual understanding of no-self and free will, wondering whether I “got it”. Michael’s response was (gently) no, that I need to let go of the self that’s trying to understand something, that I was a “smart guy” who was going to “figure it out”. I replied, puzzled, wondering how exactly I was supposed to “let go” as he was suggesting. His answer was along the lines of “if we were in a Zen monastery this would be the moment where I would hit you over the head with a stick.” I started laughing and he said (paraphrasing) “I’m serious - and what hitting you over the head with a stick would hopefully accomplish is that for a split second, in your immediate startled reaction to being hit, you would no longer be constructing Paul. If, in that unconstructed moment, you could notice your direct experience, then you could have a glimpse of the nature of mind.” It was very memorable advice, though it took many more months before I could integrate it. This is a great pointing out instruction, but requires some shock / surprise and maybe a little bit of good fortune in order for it to work - so be open to surprise (no anticipating! no trying!) and when it happens take a look (don’t think!). What is it like?
The more intense/longer orgasms do the same thing, instead of an experiencing self there is only the experience. And I wonder if true flow states don't get part of the way there.
(I'm EXTREMELY non Buddhist about this, sorry)