„Me“ always hears ‘this’ as a knowing and wants to know it too- that separation is an illusion. But that is just another attempt to sustain itself within the illusion of separation. The dream trying to keep itself alive. It’s simply what’s appearing, seemingly.
The paradox collapses into nothing, because the ‘me’ trying to know that it doesn’t exist is just another movement within the illusion of separation.
The me always turns what it hears into something to get, another piece of knowledge to add to its collection, another foothold to stand on. It hears “separation is an illusion” and immediately wants to know that as a fact, to possess it, to confirm it. But that very movement- this grasping for certainty- is just the me trying to survive, trying to sustain its own illusion.
Yet, the moment it tries to land on something solid, the ground disappears:
There is no reality apart from the concept of it.
The mind says “this is reality,” but without that concept, where is it? Reality isn’t something separate, something standing apart, waiting to be seen or understood- it only exists as an idea.
There is no knower apart from the thought of one.
The me believes itself to be the one who knows or doesn’t know. But without the thought “I know” or “I don’t know,” where is the knower? It’s just another label stuck onto what is, trying to create a center where there is none.
There is no truth apart from the claim of it.
Truth is only ever a statement, a declaration that something is or isn’t. But without those words, without the mind asserting “this is true,” where is truth? It’s just another mirage appearing within the dream.
So the whole paradox dissolves- not because something is figured out, but because there was never anything to figure out. No knower, no known, no deeper truth behind the appearance. Just this, raw, unfiltered, without meaning, without needing to be grasped.
And even this- just words appearing, dissolving, already gone.
The greatest paradox is… there is none.
Paradox always collapses into nothing. To the apparent individual, this may sound paradoxical, but in reality- there is no paradox at all. The me takes whatever it hears and turns it into something, even trying to make nothing into something,because the me thrives on duality- opposites, contrasts, concepts to balance. It grasps at emptiness, trying to hold onto the idea of no-separation, of nothing being everything. But even that is just another appearance in the dance. But when there is no one left to perceive paradox, it simply collapses into nothing. So all there is, is nothing- nothing appearing as everything. And in that, no separate things exist, no division, no opposites. No things. No separation. Just this- whole, boundless, a perfect, weightless symphony of what is. Just this, without needing to be resolved.
Nothing stands apart. Nothing to name, nothing to hold, nothing to figure out. Just this, effortless, untamed, unknowable- already free.
The me cannot function without opposites- it needs this and that, right and wrong, here and there. It hears “this is it” and immediately imagines an alternative- “but what about this suffering, this separation, this experience?” The mind splits reality in two, creating an imagined not-it where none exists. It cannot grasp boundlessness, so it carves out opposites- dividing what is whole into this and that, right and wrong, true and false. It turns this is it into a concept and immediately imagines an alternative- then there must also be something that isn’t it.
But there is no opposite to this. This isn’t it is also it.
There is no second thing, no hidden reality standing apart, waiting to be found. Even the sense of this isn’t it- the feeling of resistance, separation, suffering- is this too. There is nothing outside of it.
Just as there is no opposite to perfectness, there is no opposite to what is. Perfectness isn’t something measured against imperfection. It isn’t an ideal state where only peace, love, and stillness remain. It is everything, as it is- freely, unconditionally, uncompromisingly.
War, death, suffering, pain- there is no separate place where those things shouldn’t be. There is no separate standard by which they could be judged outside of what is. Even the most brutal, raw and chaotic appearances are uncompromisingly this.
War is it.
Death is it.
Suffering, confusion and fear- are completely, fully, already it.
Nothing stands apart. Nothing needs to be different. Nothing is waiting to become more complete.
This is it.
There is no escape from this, because there was never another place to escape to. No higher reality, no deeper truth, no better version of what is happening. This is all there is, effortlessly appearing as everything.
And even the mind’s protest, even the thought this isn’t it- is nothing but this, playing as the illusion of something missing. Thought “this isn’t it” is just another ripple in the same ocean.
“This” seemingly playing as the illusion of something missing.
The play of life- Maya, Lila- appearing as separation, as seeking, as the feeling of something missing. But nothing was ever missing, because there was never anything separate to lose or find.
There is no escape from this, because there is no one outside of this, nor inside. No separate self standing apart, looking in, searching for a way out. As there was never someone trapped in the first place. The mesearches for liberation as if it’s locked inside something, but the seeker itself is the illusion.
The one who wants to escape is just another appearance within the dream, another movement of this, pretending it isn’t whole.
Even longing, even seeking, even the desperate search for freedom- is just the play of this, unfolding as it does.
The illusion isn’t just that there’s no way out- it’s that:
-There was never a cage.
-There was never a prisoner.
-There was never a way out, because there was never a way in.
The dream of separation is this, appearing as the longing to escape. The me is just this, seemingly playing as the illusion of something missing. But nothing is missing, nothing was ever lost.
Nowhere to go.
No one to leave.
Nothing missing.
Just this- uncontained, already whole, already free.