If you are lucky to watch a tree—its branches, the leaves—all moving in perfect harmony and be touched in your heart by this nameless beauty, you cannot avoid asking: what is the unique quality, for example, of the leaves as particles in the whole? Similarly, if you see sand flying in the wind and lying on a dune, or sparks of fire flying from the flames and disappearing in the sky—all those you can see, or you can understand in seeing, that there is no particle, there is no instant, standing on its own in that beauty. There is no one leaf, one fire spark, one particle of sand. There is the movement of the whole. You can call it harmony, you can call it flow, or you can live it without calling it anything and just be deeply moved by that unique quality of that beauty.
Now, the question that is there in front of us: why can’t we, human beings, be like that? Why, for us—no matter what we tell ourselves or consider ourselves—is the separated particle, starting with ourselves, and continuing to anything that we see, always more important, more distinguished, more in the front, or in the back front (but it’s the same), than the movement of the whole? How can the true beauty of humanity be revealed if any human in that humanity stands out of it? And the answer must be met within yourself, about yourself. You must come to see—must, in the sense that try as much to avoid it, it will still be there—that no matter how open you take yourself to be, and how free you believe your inquiry is, the possibility of your disappearance doesn’t exist in the field of your consciousness.
No matter if the nature of your inquiry is more universal, open, or very specific, dogmatic, anchored with your belief—no matter—there is one thing that you will not see there, and I challenge you to see for yourself, and that’s the genuine longing for your own disappearance. You as a particle, you as an instant, you as a distinguished, separated phenomenon, are always at the base of your inquiry. Basically, it is your inquiry, and you are inquiring, let’s say, for your freedom, based on your flow—all that—the possibility of all that to just vanish. Not vanish in order for something else to arise, just vanish as a separate movement that doesn’t exist. And that can tell you a lot about the nature of your inquiry, and the relevance or the futility of it.
And if you have the courage, and if you have the love of truth, it may shake you to the heart of your existence. And that’s as far as the words can get. But unless you are willing to be truly shaken by the truth of it, it is just a game without any meaning, any value.
