I suppose all of these intuitions can be traced back to childhood when it was utterly obvious that any authority outside the bounds of my own perception was false and completely powerless over the content and direction of my thoughts. In this way, freedom was also a self evident fact of life which sprang directly from this exhilarating absence of other-ness, hierachy and the need for any particular becoming or achievement. And I can very well remember the experience of being exposed to different forms of authority, particularly those that seemed to want to direct my life in a certain way, and the joyful experience of watching each of these authoritarian ideas simply dissolve into nothingness in the light of this inner freedom.
There is nothing inside. There is nothing accumulated worth accumulating. There is nothing worth carrying over, continuing as a mental work of art. There is only death. This daylight, the walls, the sounds outside, occasional thoughts…nowhere to go at all except here. Nothing to think of, except about what is here. No life, no death, no universe, no time or space, no dimensions at all except those temporarily built by thought for thought to make sense of itself to itself. Here, just the barest of things with no tide.
To really speak, to really express oneself from the root of one’s being, it’s necessary to abandon this small locale of revolving thoughts and move beyond. To leave the map and compass behind and just walk off. Understanding does not lie at the end of some imagined path but rather, off to the sides along the way. There is no knowing through knowing, no understanding through understanding. Understanding is the death of understanding. Nothing is missing here so just go forth in peace and join the dance, join the song, join the delightful conversation of everything.