rest-in-being

[rest-in-being]

[rest-in-being]

What’s truth? Look deeper and you might find that there is no such thing.

Truth is just another story to believed to be true.

The end of story 🙂

[rest-in-being]

[rest-in-being]

‘No me’ isn’t a new identity or refined belief.

It’s not a state, not a practice, not a perspective.

It’s the end of the one who would claim or maintain any of it.

The absence of the identifier, the end of the one who names, claims and becomes.

Not a new self. Not even a better story.

The ego can play dead, but the play is still happening to someone.

True freedom leaves no one behind.

Just this.

Play, without a center.

[rest-in-being]

You cannot observe or know life as an object.

Why? Because you are that very life.

The mind tries to step back to analyze, to accumulate knowledge and experience in hopes of gaining understanding or control. But all of that is part of the same illusion of separation. And that, too, is simply the seeming movement of life.

What appears as the seeker is already the movement itself. Trying to do something about life, to fix it, observe it, understand it, only reinforces the illusion of being apart from it. Knowledge can describe, but it can never be. Every description, concept, or image is just a snapshot, a frozen frame. Not the living, flowing movement itself.

There is no outside vantage point. You cannot step outside of life to look at life, just as you cannot step outside of yourself to truly see yourself. Because without separation how could you?

The “me” wants to observe, control, improve, awaken. But that very effort confirms and sustains the illusion of separation.

As U.G. said: “You are that movement.” So any attempt to grasp it, hold it, or do something about it... is already too late.

And yet, even that is just the seeming movement of life, seemingly. As there’s no actual movement from one moment to another, because there are no separate moments, no time, no continuity. Just this, appearing as movement.

And what we call the “flow of life” is also only seemingly a flow. It appears to move, but that movement is not happening in time, it’s a timeless appearing, like frames in a dream that only seem connected by continuity. There is no actual movement from past to future, no real progression, just this, appearing as motion, change, unfolding. Without time, there is no flow. And yet, the mind interprets it as such.

So the phrases "flow of life" or "movement of life" are just pointers, useful in language, but ultimately part of the illusion of linearity and separation. What appears as movement is simply this, endlessly unfolding, yet never going anywhere.

So even saying “you are the movement” (as U.G. does) is already too much, and yet, paradoxically, it still cuts through the illusion of trying to stand apart from life. You are it and there is no separate you in it.

[rest-in-being]

[rest-in-being]

[rest-in-being]

[rest-in-being]

“Nothing to lose”

Quit everything,

lose nothing.

Nothing was ever yours.

There is nothing truly held, owned, or possessed. No owner. No one to quit anything. Quitting happens not by doing, but by seeing: there’s nothing to quit. No ownership ever happened.

Losing would need something to have been possessed. Without possession, what is there to lose? Loss only exists in a dream of ownership, a dream of separation.

Nothing was ever yours.

Not your thoughts.

Not your feelings.

Not your breath.

Not your body.

Not your achievements.

Not your guilt.

Not your past.

Not even your seeking for freedom.

Everything comes and goes by itself. Everything appears and dissolves without belonging to anyone. The whole story of "me" is like a dream trying to wake itself.

When that’s seen (or even when it’s not seen, when it simply is so),

there’s nothing to quit,

nothing to lose,

nothing to hold,

nothing to protect,

nothing to find.

Not a doorway to go through, but quiet revelation: there was never a wall, never a door to pass.

It’s not advice.

It’s not even a suggestion.

It’s simply reflection of what already is.

Just this,

effortlessly,

already whole.

[rest-in-being]

Nothing needs to happen.

Nothing needs to change.

There’s no next step,

no deeper state,

no final understanding.

And yet,

here you are,

seemingly.

Not on the way,

not in-between,

not arriving,

but already home.

There really is

no door to enter.

No gate to pass.

No lesson to learn.

No path to walk.

No end to reach.

Just this step,

this stillness,

this ache,

this breath you didn’t choose.

Not a destination,

not a reward,

but life, simply being itself.

You’ve never been lost.

You’ve never left.

There’s no one returning.

Nothing to become,

no need to be ready.

So rest,

though there’s no one to rest.

Still, rest may happen.

And it’s enough.

Not because you’ve figured it out.

Not because you’ve arrived.

But because

there’s nowhere else.

There’s no distance.

There never was.

This is home.

It was always this.

Already.

[rest-in-being]

[rest-in-being]

[rest-in-being]

A paradox in motion.

Speaking the unspeakable.

Not to teach, but to play,

to sing the silence that’s already here.

A former seeker who burned the map and now giggles at the idea of a path.

A thousand conceptual deaths revealed

there was never anyone to die.

Only the illusion mourns its own end.

A walking contradiction.

Fierce and soft, grounded and dissolving,

nothing and everything.

And yet, nothing has changed.

Just this, as it always was.

[rest-in-being]

[rest-in-being]

[rest-in-being]

[rest-in-being]