‘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.