Walk with me a while down this road and don’t look back. I promise you may return once our stroll is done, though I can’t promise you’ll want to. It’s a barren road, with little demarcation; its purpose is not to show you new things –nor things anew, but simply to put distance between you and all the baubles held invaluable, all the spectres you hold true; to shield your eyes so you might see, to cover your ears so you might hear. Breathe now, and cast aside all that you know –intrinsically know- is superfluous; keep only with you what is vital, essential, of the essence, the essence. Throw away all the baseless beliefs, feelings, ideas and identities; all the incidental, accidental ties, bonds and memories; all the baggage you were made to carry by the world and told they were ‘You’ –don’t worry, you can re-collect them upon your return should you choose to return. You know what they are, you’ve always suspected them; if you don’t – if you haven’t- turn around now, perhaps this road is not for you. Perhaps you are too sane, too clear minded. To be sure, this road’s side is littered with the mind remains of the insane and the clouded; so who is it that ought turn back? Too late for me I think, I have sought to build my home at the end of this road. If you are with me still, walking beside me still, you ought now have held on to the essence of all experience, you ought to be naked, ought only have your body, and an awareness of world synthesis through it. All else, all you have shed, is what could have been else wise - the permutations that were, the fractures in time expanding, the cascading cracks in the composition of all that could have been; perfectly logical, feasibly traceable, and entirely meaningless. You ought only have your body, and a sense of world synthesis through it. Be still there for a moment. You are rid of all the categories ‘You’ are said to be. You are free of ties and bonds. You are neurons and synapses, chemistry and biology; you are the experiencer and the arbiter, the process and the product. You are the thing through which reality is made, Actuality is hidden, meaning becomes. You are a livewire of Life, a conduit, but you are no longer a vessel; Life passes through but does not sediment, emotions and sentiments float by, but they are un-anchored. ‘You’ dies with every completed moment, at the synaptic event horizon of your Being. Be still for a moment and tell me –I implore you- what you’ve come to see; the vapid emptiness of it all, or the overbearing fullness? The static silence or fearsome cacophony? Did you find your unconditional and unconditioned sense of self, or hopelessly lose all traces of it? Do you mean to hold on to this moment for as long as your mind would let you, or burn away the faintest traces of its memory? Tell me, are you beside me still?
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