anatta

[Shrek]

When someone seeks true freedom, they often ask, "Where am I?" But if examined more deeply, this question is like asking where exactly fire exists within a burning log in the forest. Is the fire in the wood? In the air? In the spark that ignites? And when the wood is completely burned, where does the fire go?

We often feel that there is something called "I," but whenever we try to find it, it disappears. Is "I" in the body? But this body is always changing—from childhood to adulthood, then aging, and eventually dying. If this body is "I," then when a single hair falls out or a cell dies, does a part of "I" also disappear? Does a person become someone different just because their skin completely renews itself every few years?

Then, perhaps "I" exists in the mind. But the mind is an ever-flowing stream, never still. The thoughts that arose this morning have vanished before noon arrives, and the thoughts of this evening may not be the same as those now. If "I" is the mind, why does a person change just because they acquire new knowledge or experience shifting emotions?

Or maybe "I" exists in consciousness? But consciousness depends on many conditions. When the eyes see, there is visual consciousness. When the ears hear, there is auditory consciousness. If consciousness were truly "I," then when a person faints, does their "I" also disappear? When in deep, dreamless sleep, where does that consciousness go?

So, if the body is not "I," the mind is not "I," and even consciousness is not "I," then where is this "I" truly located? Upon deeper examination, one finds that "I" is merely a name given to a collection of interdependent events. It is like a wave in the ocean—it appears to exist, yet upon closer inspection, it is nothing more than water moving because of the wind. There is no single thing that can be called "the true wave."

Yet, many people still seek something to hold onto. They want to find something that remains unchanged. But like someone trying to grasp water, the tighter they clench their fist, the faster the water slips through their fingers. The more someone wants to possess "I," the more they become bound to something that never stays the same.

A person who understands this stops grasping. They no longer try to claim the body as "I," nor the mind, nor consciousness. They see that all of these are merely processes unfolding by themselves, without anything that can truly be called "theirs."

Those still attached may ask, "If there is no 'I,' then who suffers?" But this question is like asking, "If there is no owner of the wave, then who makes the wave rise and fall?" There is no one. The wave arises because the wind blows, and it disappears when the wind stops. Likewise, life arises due to causes, changes due to causes, and ends due to causes. There is no "I" possessing it—only a process unfolding on its own.

When someone no longer tries to grasp anything as "I," they are like a leaf falling from a tree. The leaf does not ask where it will land because it understands that there is no destination it must reach. Likewise, one who sees clearly no longer seeks something to cling to. There is nothing to add and nothing to remove—because from the beginning, nothing was ever truly possessed.

If nothing is grasped, then suffering cannot exist. If there is nothing to hold onto, there is nothing to lose. When there is no "I," where can suffering take root?

One who understands this no longer searches for something outside themselves, nor do they wait for something to happen. Freedom is not something to be attained—it is something that naturally appears when one stops chasing. It is like someone realizing that they are already in the very place they have been searching for all along—and upon realizing this, they laugh, because there was never a journey to be taken.

If one truly wishes to be free, they do not need to seek something new. They only need to see that there is nothing to cling to. And when there is no grasping, there are no chains.

[Shrek]

The Path Across

Step one: seeing that we are not yet across.
As long as there is attraction, attachment, or aversion toward what arises, we are still on this side, still caught in the stream of thoughts and identification.

Step two: understanding that all things arise due to causes.
Not a single experience, thought, or feeling arises without conditions. See this, reflect on it. Whatever is conditioned is impermanent, unsatisfactory, and not-self.

Step three: learning to let go.
Not rejecting or resisting anything, but recognizing that nothing can truly be held onto. Thoughts? They change. Emotions? They pass. The body? It ages. So what can truly be clung to?

Step four: be present, be still, and observe.
Train to be here, now, without judgment, without adding stories. Just know: this arises, this passes. Not me. Not mine. Not self.

Step five: walk without carrying anything.
No need to carry concepts, desires, or expectations. The path across is quiet and light. And there, true freedom does not need a name.