“There are phenomena whose uniqueness lies precisely in their ability not to show themselves. They do not announce themselves with fanfare, they do not demand attention. Their appearance, if one can speak of appearance, does not obey the logic of the exceptional, but rather that of the unnoticed. They do not present themselves as experiences in the usual sense: they are not added to the repertoire of experiences that can be remembered, classified, or attributed to a subject. They are inscribed in another way. They do not add, they subtract. They do not illuminate, they extinguish what was superfluous. And in doing so, they reveal something that was not absent, but covered.

What is glimpsed in this descent does not have the texture of a declarative truth. It does not aspire to be proven, nor does it impose itself as evidence. Rather, it stands as a tenuous certainty that does not need to impose itself in order to remain. It appears without preamble, without announcement, without exaltation, without introduction, without frame. The most ordinary of days, the very normality of life, an involuntary suspension of internal discourse: in these tiny cracks, something presents itself. Something that does not change, that does not lose its eternal freshness, that has not been affected by the passage of time or by the self-construction work to which the self devotes itself with varying degrees of devotion. That something does not refer to an entity, to a “something” or “someone.” It cannot be thought of as a foundation, nor can it be thematized as a category. Any attempt to fix it within the usual frameworks of conceptual thought betrays its nature. There is no form, figure, name, or outline. There is no story to organize it. It does not assert itself, but neither does it withdraw. Without manifesting itself or hiding, it remains available without intention. Distance is not the obstacle; the difficulty does not lie in remoteness. The problem arises from the very disposition with which we relate to experience. We live under the unspoken premise that each moment must lead to another that is fuller, denser, more interesting, more meaningful, better, or superior in every way. Modern subjectivity is conceived as an unfinished task, as a figure in constant elaboration whose legitimacy depends on the horizon of its own overcoming. This establishes an economy of lack that demands of the subject a continuous effort to improve, to correct, to transform themselves into an ideal that is never fully attained.

Accepting that there is nothing to achieve—no self to realize, no ultimate meaning to fulfill—destabilizes that horizon. It deactivates the narrative tension that sustains experience as something with direction. Hence, it is so difficult to admit, even silently. Contemporary thought, shaped by the ethics of performance and the logic of improvement, distrusts any statement that does not imply progress, trajectory, goal. A way of being that does not depend on the promise of becoming something else has become almost unthinkable. And yet, when that machinery stops—even for a moment—what is revealed is not nothingness. Nor is it a sense of fulfillment as compensation. Instead, a way of being emerges that does not respond to any purpose, that does not require intention, that does not obey the logic of achievement. This is not an extraordinary experience, nor is it a sudden understanding. It is the interruption of the narrative of the self, the possibility of being without telling oneself.

The term “awakening” has been used so often—and with so many interests—that it no longer names anything without bringing with it a host of spiritual promises. There is no revelation here. There is no break with the past. There is no dividing line marking a before and after. There is nothing that is possessed or achieved. Only the impulse to sustain oneself through a constant narrative dissolves, without violence. Life ceases to be property, and with that it loses its weight. This cessation does not require resolution. It does not lead to final clarity. There is no meaning to be attained, no stabilizing answer. What is experienced, if that verb can still be used, is a form of lightness that does not come from a solution, but from the interruption of the need to resolve. It is not a matter of having arrived anywhere. Only the internal friction has stopped. Not as a conquest, but as a deactivation.

That kind of pause cannot be sought. It does not respond to a strategy, technique, or methodology. It is not produced by will. It arrives unannounced, sometimes in the most trivial gesture: a leisurely walk, an unintentional silence, a moment that does not demand interpretation. It is where thought has nothing to add, but is not perceived as absent either. What is there does not seek to be named. It does not demand translation. It does not point to another place. Its consistency lies in not needing to be integrated into any system. To speak of freedom in this context requires revisiting the concept itself. It is not about choosing or affirming something about oneself. It is not about having options. Freedom here is not possibility, but the cessation of compulsion. What liberates is not a decision, but the end of the need to decide. When the impulse to define oneself fades, what remains does not need a name.

The greatest obstacle, then, is not outside. It is not the world, nor language, nor the finitude of the body. It is that persistent conviction that life must be oriented toward an end. That impulse toward another place, toward a different state, interrupts the possibility of being with what is already given. The difficulty lies less in action than in pause. Less in movement than in functionless stillness.

What remains is not at the end of any journey. It does not dwell on the margins. It does not demand to be found. It is not lost, nor is it conquered. It is not related to will. It does not respond. It is, as it always has been, though not as an object, nor as a substance, nor as a certainty. It sustains without asserting itself. And when no demands are made of it, it simply allows itself to be.”