Although I am at the center of my life, being in this center doesn't interest me. Something seems to be missing right here, so I'm interested in searching for the missing part. I wander out from the center, as the rays of a wheel do. First I go out here, then I go out there. I try this, I reject that. This looks favorable. That doesn't. I'm searching, searching, searching. Perhaps I'm looking for the right partner: "Well, she has some qualities, but she certainly falls short in some areas." Depending how uneasy we are, we search, and we search, and we search. We may feel we never have the right job. So we search and fuss. We're either going to improve the job we have or we think, "I may not tell anybody, but I'm not going to be here that long!" And in a sense, that's OK. I'm not saying to stay forever with a particular job. It's not the impatient action that is invalid, it's the fact that we think the searching itself is valid.

If we cease looking, searching what are we left with? We're left with what's been right there at the center all the time. Underneath all that searching there is distress. There is unease. The minute that we realize that, we see that the point isn't the search, but rather the distress and unease which motivate the search. That's the magic moment— when we realize that searching outside of ourselves is not the way. At first it dawns on us just a little bit. And it gets clearer over time, as we continue to suffer. See, anything that we search for is going to disappoint us. Because there are no perfect beings, perfect jobs, perfect places to live. So the search ends exactly in one place, which is disappointment. A good place.

If we have any brains at all, it finally dawns on us: "I've done this before." And we begin to see that it isn't the searching that's at fault, but something about where we look. And we return more and more to the disappointment, which is always at the center. What's underneath all that search is what? Fear. Unease. Distress. Feeling miserable. We're in pain and we use the search to alleviate that pain. We begin to see that the pain comes because we are pinching ourselves. And just this knowledge is relief, even peace. The very peace we've been searching for so hard lies in recognizing this fact: I'm pinching myself. No one's doing it to me.

So the whole search begins to be abandoned and instead of searching, we begin to see that practice isn't a search. Practice is to be with that which motivates the search, which is unease, distress. And this is the turning around.

It never happens all at once. Our drive to go after things is so powerful it overwhelms us. No matter what I say, after we all leave here, in five minutes we'll all be looking around for something to save us. As the vow says, "Desires are inexhaustible." But you won't exhaust desires by searching; you will exhaust them by experiencing that which underlies them.