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One must not try to discover where it comes from.
For there is not any “where.” It neither comes from
nor goes anywhere, it both appears and does not appear.
For this reason it is necessary to not pursue it,
but to remain in stillness, until it should appear,
preparing oneself to be a contemplator, just as the eye
awaits the rising sun.
If you cut off all thinking, you will see everything just as it is….
Clear mind has no I-my-me.
What follows is a disturbing essay. Allowing our imagination to wonder about what constitutes the most ominous inner experiences afflicting individuals who have been chronically abused, soul-murdered, and catastrophically neglected finds us in the realm of the unthinkable, the unspeakable, the execrable. It evokes repulsion. If we try to dwell a little in this repulsive arena, we are assailed by defensive psychotic thoughts (theirs, ours?), incongruous extreme feelings, senseless fragments of repetitions which, depending upon our length of stay, point to a desperate communication of the incommunicable — the death of the subject.