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‘n’ – the ubiquitous dimension of ‘now-this-here’ – is not a thing; it could never be any kind of fixed object with independent existence.  It’s easy to understand that nothing perceived can ever be a solid separate ‘thing’:  in order for any ‘thing’ to be an object, it needs a subject.  And we cannot provide any subject without it turning likewise into an object.  So, what perceives ‘n’ and all its phenomenal contents?

When I stop and sit and shut up, the suchness of ‘n’ is simply apparent as ‘now-this-here’-i n g.

Try as I might, I cannot find a separate perceiver of this suchness.  If it has no subject how can it be an object?  It flies solo.  Yet – it is my source and substance.

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