When I, the separate self, take an honest look at my makeup, I fall to pieces. All I see, all I find, are fragments. Nothing of any substance can I call my own.
It turns out that the I that I have always thought I am is the wrong I! It is not an individual I made up of passing thoughts, emotions, sensations, and perceptions. How mistaken could I be?
It’s the only I there is. The only I that can be. The I that knows all things, yet itself cannot be known. The I that cannot be found, yet is everywhere. The I that is beyond thought, beyond appearance.
This I cannot fall to pieces, cannot be divided in any way. It would be like trying to cut the sky in half.