Your body is not yours at all. That fleshy container you call home houses no permanent resident, no sacred self waiting to be discovered through gentle awareness practices. Traditional body scans trick you into believing you’re making…
You think you have a choice. You don’t. The ancient debate between free will and determinism occupies philosophy classrooms and late-night dorm discussions, but it misses the point by miles. It’s like arguing about which direction a…
You bought the lie without questioning its purpose. What passes for mindfulness is spiritual fast food—mass-produced, watered down, and served with a side of self-delusion. The entire industry thrives on selling you techniques to watch your thoughts…
Your self is a convenient fiction. That identity you cherish, protect, and believe in? Nothing but a phantom haunting the house of your consciousness. For centuries, spiritual teachers prescribed the “Who Am I?” inquiry as medicine for…
Seeking truth is the most elaborate trap ever devised. The spiritual marketplace operates on one unspoken principle: keep you wanting more. Books, retreats, teachers, methods—all promising the enlightenment carrot while extending the stick. Look at yourself: meditating,…
You believe you exist. This belief forms the foundation of every thought, feeling, and action you take in your imaginary life. A mistake with cosmic consequences. Picture your existence like a movie—you sitting there, breathing, thinking, feeling—the…
Oneness is spiritual marketplace bullshit. It’s that feel-good slogan sold to seekers who crave connection without sacrifice or effort. You see it plastered on yoga studio walls and retreat brochures – “We are all One!” – while…
You don’t think about it much, but everything around you is moving. Not just the cars and the clouds, but the ground under your feet, the stars above your head. It’s all in motion. And yet, here…
Imagine you’re sitting in a cave. No, not a cozy, warm cave like something from a fantasy novel. Think cold, dark, and damp, with shadows flickering on the walls, cast by a fire burning behind you. You’re…
The page stops here, like a puppy at the edge of a cliff, curiously peering over yet blissfully unaware of the abyss. It's an invitation to recognize the stillness beneath the noise, to see the void that's always there when the mirage of content slips away. And in that void, don't you find there's nothing left to seek? The end of content is the spoiler of every story: there never was anything else but this.
The page stops here, like a puppy at the edge of a cliff, curiously peering over yet blissfully unaware of the abyss. It's an invitation to recognize the stillness beneath the noise, to see the void that's always there when the mirage of content slips away. And in that void, don't you find there's nothing left to seek? The end of content is the spoiler of every story: there never was anything else but this.
