This moment

“It begins as a whisper that does not come from outside.

At first, there is nothing spectacular or extraordinary. There are footsteps, breathing, a cup of tea, the wind brushing against your face, your back feeling the back of the chair. There is no sudden vision or fireworks. The morning is like any other. The body moves through the world like a fish in water: unaware of limits, never suspecting for a moment that what it seeks has always been and always will be here.

It is not a matter of searching or finding. Nor is it a matter of fleeing or escaping. The mistake is not in taking the wrong path, but in believing that somewhere the path ends. The real is not found in distance, nor is it revealed in accumulation. There is no accumulation that can hold what has never been separated.

A leaf falls without interrupting the silence. Thought moves, but without you moving with it.

Something begins to let go without needing to assert itself. There is no image to protect, no story to continue. A space begins to open up, not in the world, but in the gaze. Not toward something, but from everything.

Language is no longer enough; it proves insufficient. Categories slip away. What seemed solid becomes soft, without center, without outline. The boundaries between inside and outside, between the observer and the observed, between the thinker and the thought, dissolve. The moment expands. There is no time, no before, no after. Only that, breathing through you.

Then, effortlessly, without warning, without anyone provoking it, the knot dissolves. The horizon folds inward. The outside no longer demands conquest. The inside no longer demands defense. Everything that was two is recognized as one. Everything that was one dissolves into nothing. Everything that was nothing vibrates as totality.