There is no where to run. wherever you are. You are here. There is no there. If you go to show me there it is always here. Any there is always still only This here. There is no there, there is no then. There is just this here and now. And even that is saying to much. It as close as words seem to get, but the words always objectify. As nouns ‘here’ and ‘now’ can never describe what I am, what you are, or what this is. Verbs would be closer perhaps…..’hereing’, ‘nowing’. These words sound strange because all language objectifies what is. ‘What is’, is never an object, or the multitude of objects that we describe it as. Even making ‘This’ all one object, as in ‘This’, or ‘It’, or ‘Now’ or ‘Here’ is missing the mystery. The ‘mystery’ is that there are no nouns for what This really is and what I really am. I say ‘the mystery’, and yet paradoxically in one way there is no mystery at all. In the realisation and seeing that there is only what I AM I don’t see another world, I don’t see what isn’t. The only thing that is seen as what isn’t is ‘me’. I don’t see the future, or the past that is what ‘me’ has always done. I just see This in all it’s wonderful ordinariness. I don’t know it, I don’t understand it. I don’t know what This is. I don’t know what I am. I don’t know what you are. Without referring to ‘me’ I don’t need to know. It is only ‘me’ that needs to know.
There is simply the seeing of This as it is; just what is. What is, is eternal movement that is eternally still. What is, is an eternal growth and decay that is never born and never dies. This has no form and is every form. I am This. And you are This. There is nothing special in This, because everything is It. When the sense of being a ‘me’ fades’ or is seen through then the extraordinary ordinariness of This can be seen, but never understood, never ‘got’, never ‘achieved’. There is no one to get it. It is already. There is nothing to get, there is nothing to be done, because it is already everything.