There is no liberation…
Liberation isn’t an outcome; it’s completely effortless. Let alone that it would be the outcome of some (self-)inquiry or any of that crap that is feeding and giving rise to just another real story for the individual.
In liberation, that apparent being is left completely empty-handed — in the literal way, because there isn’t even a thing left called a hand, or anything at all, that seemed so real and solid. The deeply rooted dreamed belief and felt contracted sense that there was a ‘you’ bounded by the skin dissolves completely into the boundlessness.
When it is seen that there never was a you, ‘I’, ‘me’, ‘we’, it is seen that there was never-ever any story that was real. So in that sense, there is no liberation — paradoxically that unknowing is absolutely liberating beyond any story. There is no knowing why this so-called writing or anything at all appears to happen, nor is there a need to. It doesn’t happen, nothing does, it only appears to. That doesn’t make any sense, and it doesn’t need to…
Much love, 🩶
N.R.
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