The news that one exists only as a concept in consciousness is unacceptable for most folk.
Struggling so seriously, so arduously, to create a self (a whole self, a creative self, a healed self, a true self, a higher self), most refuse to contemplate the credentials of the crafty creator of the struggle.
This struggle is familiar to me; it used to be the story of my life. But one day the layer of stories holding together the self I took to be ‘me’ was subjected to a blow-torch – the choiceless, value-free Light of inquiry. Like tired old wallpaper it dried up, peeled back and fell off.
‘I’ is all that’s left and every-thing every-one every-where is this ‘I.’
I = Awareingness, intimate and inescapable
I = Consciousness, in which all concepts find their context
In this unknowable ‘I’-ness who needs a ‘me’?
‘I’ tells me who:
L I F E