When we meet, something remarkably simple happens. Amid the busy noise of life - phones buzzing, thoughts racing, obligations looming - we pause. Without techniques or special preparations, we look directly at what's already here.

What we're discovering feels like a void - a spacious emptiness where all your usual reference points dissolve. But unlike the intimidating nothingness described in spiritual texts, this void is surprisingly ordinary. It reveals itself while you're on a conference call, buying groceries, or waiting for the elevator. It's the natural background of every experience, hiding in plain sight.

You've done it. I've done it. We turn every experience into evidence of spiritual progress or failure. A moment of peace becomes proof we're "getting somewhere." A flash of anger shows we're "not there yet." Even a sunset becomes a test - did we experience it "spiritually enough"?

Think about how many thoughts pass through your mind each day without taking root. Most dissolve on their own because you don't give them special importance. These questioning thoughts can do the same. They only seem significant because we've learned to treat them as meaningful markers on a spiritual path.

We see life as a timeline - a story of progress from past to future. Each achievement follows this pattern: set a goal, work toward it, reach the destination. It's how we approach everything, from learning a language to building a career. Then we bring this same thinking to spiritual seeking.

But chasing these peaks is just another form of addiction. You're not interested in what's actually here - you want the thrill of the extraordinary. The excitement of the shift becomes more important than what it's pointing to. It's like focusing on the fireworks instead of what you're actually celebrating.

I've been thinking about you lately. No, not the focused version of you that shows up for spiritual practice, but the everyday you. The one who wakes up groggy, already feeling the weight of responsibilities. The one who gets stressed about work, worried about health, agitated in traffic. We spend so much time hiding from what's obviously here, often without realizing it.

Think about it - your mind habitually creates problems to solve, stories to believe, states to achieve. After years of this pattern, even a clear moment of recognition often gets followed by an automatic return to seeking. It's like your brain has a default setting of "there must be more than this."

Most of us readily question surface-level beliefs, but spiritual ones feel different, essential. The idea of being on a path to something better, of eventual arrival at some amazing state - these notions seem too vital to abandon. Yet they're just more smoke in the room, obscuring what's already here.

People often tell me they've lost it. "I had it for a while, but now it's gone," they say. "I was there yesterday, but today I can't find my way back." It's a common experience - this sense of falling in and out of recognition.

Never settle on a word or a belief that claims to fully capture what this is. Don't call it "oneness" and think you've understood it all. Don't label it as "emptiness" and believe you've grasped its entirety. It's not even accurate to call it "nowhere," because it's somehow between nowhere and everywhere, inhabiting a space our minds struggle to comprehend, or at all access.

You probably started reading this blog looking for answers. Another stepping stone on your spiritual journey. Another framework to make sense of what you're seeking. Or maybe you're just curious who's behind these words, wondering if this is just another spiritual sales pitch. And is this guy even legit? Has he really 'got it'? I should warn you - you won't find what you expect here.