When the sky opens blue, no other than Self. Just as plain as any ordinary day, every day as ordinary Self, no expression other than this, self-expression of the hum of being. What a Friend! this no-self Self, this Nothing, the best friend I’ve ever had. The great Friend, is never far, in fact, always right here, closer than the phone in my pocket, closer than breath, closer than the blood that moves through veins, closer than the marrow of bone, more accessible than any thought or idea. Just laughter and dancing, these songs of Dharma. Nothing to put a put a finger on, no finger, Self alone. Don’t say it shines radiantly, don’t say it radiates anything at all. Nothing to distinguish it. The undistinguished one. One, only this. Nothing to contrast It. No light and no shadow. A floating dream arrives Nowhere, dissolves into Nothing. Seen through and No desires whatsoever. The sense world is burning, full of the fires of lust, anger, greed. This is maya, delusion. Seen throug...