Great Completion (Tib. rdzogs chen, pron. dzogchen) is a tradition of meditation practices based on the principle that a timeless awareness is present in every moment of experience, or, to put it another way, that every moment of experience is simultaneously a moment of timeless awareness and that every such moment is complete in and of itself. Following a teaching from Garab Dorje (Tib. dga’ rab rdo rje,) the Indian progenitor of the Great Completion tradition, the task of the practitioner is threefold: to recognize timeless awareness in each and every experience; to be in touch with that timeless awareness whatever he or she is experiencing; and to trust that all thinking or confusion resolves itself in that timeless awareness.

Patterned experience is a free translation of samsara — how we experience the world when we are in the grip of emotional reactions. For instance, when we are angry, we see the world in terms of opposition. When we are greedy, we see the world as withholding what we need. Free experience is a similarly loose rendering of nirvana, those moments when we are not only free from the grip of emotional reaction, but our experience of life is so vivid and awake that the fullness of experience eliminates any sense of self or individuality. Ordinarily, we push away emotional reactions and hang on to those special moments, but the radical perspective of great completion is that each moment of experience, whether reactive or not, is complete in and of itself. In other words, everything we experience is just an experience. This is the ground of no ground in great completion, and it is the basis for the no-practice practice of doing nothing. Because all experience, patterned or free, is just experience, there is nothing to do to it — nothing to add, nothing to remove, nothing to increase, nothing to decrease, nothing to give up, nothing to attain.
Complete — all key instructions end up in utterly natural release.
As for path, it follows from the previous line about ground that the path of practice consists in not doing anything. If we do not do anything with or to thoughts when they arise — we do not follow them, we do not cut them off, we do not suppress them — they come and go on their own. For practice, then, we just allow experience to unfold on its own. Here is one way:
Put a cushion or a chair in the middle of a room or in a quiet place outdoors. Sit down and let your body settle comfortably. Then let your breath settle. If it helps, follow it carefully for a few breaths, but then just let it come and go on its own. Let your mind settle, too. One traditional instruction sums all this up as, “Body on the cushion, mind in the body, relaxation in the mind.”
Now just sit there and do nothing.
Thoughts arise, of course, and some of them will catch you. I use the word catch because, when thoughts arise, I do not decide which ones I will follow and which ones I will just experience coming and going. Some thoughts, feelings and sensations simply come and go on their own and cause no disturbance. Others catch me and I fall into distraction. Which does which is not something I control. As soon as I recognize that I have been distracted, I am already back. There is nothing more to do but start again. A puff of wind, the sound of a siren, the pattern of light and shadow in front of me — they catch me. When I recognize that I have been caught, I am back and start again. Last night’s dinner with friends, a harsh word to or from my partner, a mistake at work, a pat on the back — these also catch me. I come back and start again. I feel inadequate, that I should be doing more — I come back and start again. I am enjoying the feeling of peace — I come back and start again. Clarity or dullness, bliss or pain, no thoughts or madhouse, duality or non-duality, emptiness or fullness, whatever experience catches me, I come back and start again. Any feeling that I am finally getting somewhere, any feelings of pride, achievement, relief, joy, awe, or devotion — I come back and start again.
As my mind settles, something else begins to happen. I experience the play of emotional reactions — thoughts, feelings and associations — just coming and going. Specific thoughts, feelings and sensations catch me less frequently, even when they are powerful or intense. It is a bit strange to sit utterly at peace while my whole being seethes with anger, or to be completely at peace while I am feeling cut to the core by how someone has treated me. The intensity of the feeling suggests that there should be more disturbance, but the wonder is that it is possible to be completely at peace in powerful feelings and experiences, positive or negative, without being disturbed or distracted and without suppressing or controlling them. Bit by bit, I can let experiences of emptiness, transcendence or immanence come and go, too. They tend to catch me in a different way because, as Alexander Pope says, “Hope springs eternal in the human breast…”
Every experience lets itself go, whether it is pain in my leg, anger at an insult or slight, warmth for my family, rage at injustice, love for all who walk on this planet or the groundlessness of experience itself. Like the morning mist or a rainbow in the sky, every experience comes out of nothing and dissolves back into nothing.

It is hard to let go of words and concepts. It is hard to let go of ideas. When we consciously try to let go of an idea, it imprisons us. For example, I might say to you, “Don’t think of an elephant.” Now, how do you get rid of the elephant?
In this context, then, how do we practice an outlook in which there is nothing to hold on to without being trapped by our own words and ideas?
It all comes down to this: as soon as I recognize that I am engaged in thinking, I have already returned. Now all I need to do is rest right there. Some people find that pausing for a breath helps to break the momentum of the train of thinking. Others find that focusing on the breath is more of an interruption. The key point is just to recognize and rest.
In the same way, as soon as I recognize that I am explaining or describing to myself what I am experiencing, I rest.
When I become aware of that I am hoping, fearing or dreading, I return and rest.
If I think that I see, understand, feel or know something, I return and rest.
Whenever I notice that I am bored, elated, depressed or flooded with feelings of well-being, I return and rest.
And if I find that I am wondering about where all this is going, I return and rest.

To repeat an important point: what is recognized here is that there is no ‘thing’ to recognize. Nondual awareness is not a thing that can be identified or pinpointed. This is most essential, because without recogniz-ing that there is no thing to recognize, you will always hold onto some idea about the awakened state. Clinging to subject and object in the recognition is none other than a dualistic frame of mind. Recognize that there is no thing to recognize, and then totally let go. Remain without observer and observed. Someone may ignore this and instead think, “The meditation master told me there is self-existing awareness. I must see it! I must recognize it! I must keep it in mind!” These are all concepts. As long as there is something to identify or think about there is still concept. It is this dualistic mind of continually affirming or denying that is exhausting.
Awakened mind is the primordially free naked state called dharmakaya.

So, sustain that with natural mindfulness, without fabricating a subject and object. To have one thing looking at another only creates more thought.
As for the true view, it is incorrect to claim that there must be some-thing that is recognized and that there has to be a recognizer. This duality is a subtle state of conceptual mind. As long as you do not cut the string of subtle concepts, there is no liberation from samsara because there is always something sustained and someone who sustains it. There may be no coarse subject and object fixation, but a very subtle fixation is still present. As long as there is a faint observer and observed, then the subject-object fixation has not yet been totally abandoned. As long as this is not abandoned, samsara is not left behind.
Do you know how a cat sometimes lies in ambush at a mouse hole?
Some types of meditation are said to be like that. Whenever the mouse sticks its head out, the cat is waiting to pounce. He is waiting there tied up in hope and fear, hoping the mouse will appear and fearing that it will not.
In the same way, in some meditation practices one sits and waits for the awakened state to take place. As soon as rigpa manifests, one immediately catches on to it: “I need to recognize rigpa! Aha! There it is, now I’ve got it!” Trying to catch the natural state is tiring! It is much better to rest in a totally carefree state without attachment.
Not attaching importance to anything is like an old person watching children play. Children talk, “Today I will be a minister, tomorrow I will be a king.” The old person will not attach any reality to it. He will think whatever they do let them do it; it does not matter. In the same way, the old person that is nondual awareness completely lets go of attaching any importance to the arising and ceasing of thoughts. It is very exhausting if you have to keep track of the awakened state, thinking, “Now I recognize it. Now I’m distracted. Now I got it back again. Now I lost it!” This proc-ess is simply adding another thought to each moment. Just relax. Lean back and rest freely in the openness of basic space. Keeping track of every moment it is very tiring; anyone, no matter who, would become tired of doing that.