Here it is. This, here. Has it ever been anything else? There has only ever been what is. Can you find anything else? Have a go.
Find anything that isn't what is, here, this. Can you do it?
This you that is looking, what is that? Can you find it?
This me that is looking is also what is. It's the whole of life looking, the whole of life appearing as a me looking for itself.
This apparent me looking is the whole of life appearing as that, until it doesn't. At that point, what is will be just the same; whatever is appearing, but without a you.
It doesn't feel like freedom to the apparent you looking, that it itself, is wholeness. It's a trick, this me. A trick this appearance seems to play, appearing as a me. This me is like a dog chasing it's own tail, it only finds itself. It can only find itself. Again-- it's a trick, the trick of what is, appearing as a me.
This life also appears as what is without a me. There is no me. That’s the reality.
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