introduction

Short version:

There’s just...

 this immediacy

Longer version:

All there is, is this immediacy. 

Theres no-one in this.

There is nothing else, nothing more, there is just what is. 

How could everything need more?

This is unquestionably enough, this is the fulfilment that is seemingly lost but never was. 

What is, isn't an object that can be grasped and so is timelessly free.

This can't even be described or understood, there is just an apparent returning to a sense of unknowing from an abstract impossibility called the "known". 

This could never be known or understood as there is nothing here that could ask the question "why?". 

"Why?" is a preposterous notion, a radical departure from what obviously is all there is.

 There are no opposites, neither fullness or emptiness, neither real or unreal, there is no need for any of this complex rhetoric. 

Zero can't be simpler, or have any hierarchy.

Theres no exclusivity or becoming, this is unconditionally neutral; that's love, intimately impersonal.

All there is, is what appears to be happen-ing, yet nothings happen-ing. There's no time, no continuity.

 There is no beyond this, no need for more, no boredom of this because nobody is attempting to escape.

There is just a hollowing-outness and a filled-upness by everything. 

A burn-out, dissolution and exhaustion of the apparently dense, tense me-state hallucination. A relaxation. 

A sigh of relief that knows no bounds. 

A total failure of ambition, a total loss of hopes and dreams.

An unveiling of the childlike senses of wonder, that never left.

A different kind of normal, where the aliveness of life is rediscovered in everything, without a trying to grasp it. 

A timeless freefall of unknowing is all that is left when the rocks at rock-bottom are enough once again.

The search is over. The war is over, like a faded dream. 

Everything is improvised, constantly and spontaneously new, expressed without the utter irrelevancies of meaning or purpose. 

A response without any idea of a separate "individual", and so without playing to one. 

There is no-one this is for and yet no-one sings anyway.  

All there is, is this immediacy.