The gaze follows a shadow, in diverse gray. It leads into a blurred memory, a presumed origin of existence. Long ago, the shadow was given a name. A name, full of expectation for an imaginary future. For an idea to manifest in flesh and blood. This idea, this name, this expectation became personality, identity.
Identity is made of belief and biology. It is profound identification with and attachment to beliefs and biology. Being a man or a woman, belonging to a race, a gender, a nation, a group, a tribe, a culture, a religion, a history.
None of this is choice nor innate. It is inherited and borrowed, be it beliefs and convictions, be it biology. It is a story rooted in the ideas of ancestors and cultural heritage, stored as memory in cells and subconscious mind. Identity is conditioned, a program, with an assumed beginning in birth and an assumed end in death. But none of this is what really is.
What really is, has no name and no affiliation. It knows nothing of me, you or the other, of tomorrow or yesterday, of superiority or inferiority, or right or wrong, of good nor bad. It needs no improvement, no tomorrow, no next, no better. It needs no healing. It is the epitome of completion, of peace, of liberation.
And while seeking what truly is, trying to overcome trauma/karma and finding the true nature, the true self, purpose, what it is supposedly meant to be – who really is does already exist beyond time and space. It has no beginning nor end, it knows neither birth nor death. It has no questions and no answers, no reason and no purpose.
The moment found out that identity and any affiliation are made up, a concept, an idea, a formation (in-formation), the war ends and becomes liberated from the collective heritage and trauma/karma that determined personality and subconscious. Identity becomes revealed as a phantom. There is nothing left to protect anymore, nothing left to defend, nothing to fight for, nothing to achieve, nothing to chase or seek. What really is is beyond vulnerability. It cannot be touched nor harmed. It is pure, unlimited and undefined awareness in which all experience, time, space, biology appear.
The nature of all that occurs, of all that manifests, is transient and temporary. There is no defined and segregated me, you nor any other. All experience happens to a mortal body, interpreted and operated via an organic processor, the brain, which by its mode of conditioned perception creates a “reality” of subject and object, a “reality” of separation.
The story of “me and you” is an invention, based on (cultural) conditioning. All narratives about me and the others are made up by the mind, and projected into what is named “the world”. All stories begin and end there, are attached to the “matrix”, a product of the (collective) mind.
The moment the chase on phantoms ends, internal peace and liberation emerge, independent from the temporary and ever-changing appearances of “the world”.