Blah, Blah, Blah.

These words are unmitigated gobbledygook. All words are. The story can be very, very interesting. But the story is unnecessary. As tiny children, we were the story. Whatever it seemed to be. The tree was climbed, the wind was marveled at. When the one who seeks wholeness, the grown-up, drops away, it is seen that wholeness is all there ever was. So what, my mind chimed in for awhile. I have been in a desert, waiting to fall in love with it all. Now the unspeakable wonder of this becomes plain. There is no process, there is nothing happening to no one, but the story that seems to unfold is one of deepening. More and more personal identity falling away. It isn't more clearly seen, but it is more appreciated. There's no one here to stop it. The boundless wonder of this is clearer. And it's so normal, so obvious.

When this change in perception, or whatever we're calling it today, seemed to happen to "me", I was doing the washing up. I had a giant butcher knife in my hand. The knife seemed to change. It became utterly knifish, perfect in its knife-like-ness. I saw clearly that nothing exists. Just this ineffable absolute stillness and oneness, playing the game of seeing itself. Everything changed and nothing changed. I'm aware this sounds like complete nonsense, and so it is. Trying to talk about non-duality is exceptionally unrewarding. I don't expect anyone to "get" this, they are this. There is nobody that needs to "awaken," they are already "awake" but dream they are not. It's a difficult pill to swallow. Separate people will fight hard to deny that there is no one, no separate will, no responsibility, no process of becoming a whole and complete person. The neuroses, the addictions, the cruelties, however repugnant, are perfect just as they are. Astounding. Yet no one needs to do anything. There is no one who ever chose to do anything, there is just life, consciousness, whatever, seeing itself. It is amazing, and it never went away.