It all comes
from what is sensed in the world around.
The world of sights, sounds, smells, tastes, touch, words and ideas.
But I am not any of these things.
They are not me or mine.
Am I the objects in the world?
Am I sense-impressions and words?
Dependently originated they do not last.
As conditions change so do they.
This body is not mine. It grew by itself.
A biological process I have no control over.
It changes whether I like it or not.
It ages, gets sick, will one day die.
If it was mine, I would be able to tell it to stop ageing, to not die.
To be handsome, not ugly.
But it changes regardless of what I say.
If I was to chop off a body part and lay it on the ground.
Is that body part the self?
Where is the self in these five streams?
These five aggregates of clinging:
body, feelings, perceptions, thoughts, sense-consciousness.
When one lets go of identifying with them
Filters out all that is not self.
A boundless emptiness not dependent on conditions
A state that isn’t born and doesn’t die
Relief from the pain of wanting.
Hard to put into words.
But I will keep trying.