What is left when my attention folds inward? I persist in seeking the one who is aware, yet awareness appears to flow in both directions—silence listening to itself.

At times, I believe I’ve discovered plain ground, only to realize that even “stability” is another movement. In the depths of that movement, something completely still shines through.

The observer and the observed switch roles, with each becoming the other. Am I looking at the world, or is the world looking through me? Every answer leads to more questions.

What does it see when it looks back at itself? What understands when it recognizes that it is understanding? Everything seems to come from this profound observation. But who is the observer? And what is being observed?

So I sat quietly, agreed politely; I guess that I forgot I had a choice.

The harder I grasp any perspective, the more it eludes me. Yet, something remains unshakeable in the constant slipping. Not a thing, place, or state.

Can presence ever confuse itself? Or does confusion merely drift? I continually seek the boundary where the subject meets the object, only to watch them dissolve into one another.

Perhaps proper stability isn’t found in anything but in seeing itself. Light illuminates itself through everything that it touches. Which precedes—seeing or what is seen? Knowing or what is known?

All these words aim at something somewhat slippery. Each description falls short, yet somehow, this absence of connection becomes the target itself. What if this flow has always been continuously created and dissolving just by observing? The final illusion—manifesting itself from itself.

Illusion never changed into something real…

I observe myself attempting to grasp this, but who is the observer? Each thought on the matter becomes another thing hidden within it. Even confusion operates within it. Perhaps when looking back to itself ultimately, it realizes it never departed. An eye striving to see itself seeing, only to uncover it has always just been seeing.

Everyone may already embody this—not as something to be achieved but as what is already perceived through every pair of eyes. The same knowing recognizes itself differently through each unique knower.

You are always welcome.