Most of us walk around assuming we’re in here, looking out there. Body here. World there. Other people? Deeply inconvenient or mysteriously lovely, depending on the day.
It feels obvious. So obvious, no one thinks to question it.
And slightly exhausting.
Because once there’s an outside, everything becomes a negotiation. Me or you. Here or there. Included or excluded. Enlightened enough or still eating olives straight from the jar in a mildly chaotic kitchen.
The trap is in believing separation is a fact, rather than something thought keeps drawing on the glass.
The escape is in noticing.
The idea of “me” cracks a little.
The body is still here.
The world is still here.
But the outside isn’t quite where I left it.
In the dust of that crumbling, there’s no need to become one with everything.
There’s only the ridiculous discovery that, despite my best efforts, maybe I never managed to be truly separate in the first place.
TL;DR:
Separation looks obvious until the thought of “me in here, you out there” starts to crumble.
What might collapse if you stopped assuming life was happening outside of yourself?
Sara
