The Absence Of Name

It comes out of the stillness and silence. It grows around you as you sit, waiting for nothing to happen. There is a calm still centre that lies at the heart of your ever-turning world. It can be found if you only make a space where you can sit and wait for it to arrive. It has no name and it does not need one. It is the absence of name; it is the absence of everything, except stillness of thought. A place where your mind does not fall over itself or run itself in circles in some desperate need for diversion. It is the very thing that lies at the heart of all things, the place that diversion seeks to avoid.

You have to learn how to hold it, so its very elusiveness does not slip from the grasp. Too loose and it flies away, gyring in the empty air just out of reach of your reaching fingers. Too tight and you choke the breathing heart from it and you are left again with nothing but empty hands and nothing to show for it.

Although, paradoxically, having nothing is the ideal state, but it is not that nothing of loss, an absence, it is the presence of something real, the calmness of knowing.

It is something that has been stolen and distorted by religions, of course; but you do not need the false justification of the angry gods, no-one needs any god, once you find this place that religions both grope towards and try to deny to you, except through their own manipulations and control of your mind.

Religions only exist for you to break free of them and come to this place of real knowing.