The man who wrote the following words was either wise or wacko. There’s no middle ground. You must make your choice. Without leaving your home, you can know the whole world. Without looking through the window, you can see the ways of heaven. The further you go, the less you know. Thus, the wise man knows without travelling, sees without looking, works without doing.
Sad to say but the senses are not the stairway to heaven. A devotion to sunsets, fine wines, great sex, 400-thread-count sheets, Michelin meals and kid leather slippers is more likely to take us down than up. In recognition of this, we have sensory deprivation tanks These are terrific but we can’t put them in the luggage compartment of our Lamborghinis. So, the answer is “No.” On the journey into the self, the senses do not avail.
We hop off the rat wheel of win/work/compete/control when we realize that more success has nothing to teach us, that our weaknesses are points of access to the mystery of who we are.
The outer journey has many steps. The inner journey has none.
The first two stages of life, that of student and householder, are for doing. The second two stages of life, that of hermit and renunciant, are for undoing. Adapted for the Western mind, per T.S. Eliot, we advance for a while and then we retreat, arriving where we started from and knowing the place for the first time.