In the Middle of Me and I Am

I want an experience.

An experience of something I already imagine, something that I’ve projected a definition onto—so that when it happens, I’ll recognize it and say: this is it.

There is a desire to experience something familiar.

And then I ask: What if I desire to know the truth in the same way? One side of me says I don’t know the truth—so then why do I desire it at all? And if by any chance truth does reveal itself… how would I recognize it? Would I even know it’s true if I’m only able to compare it to the images I’ve gathered from books, teachers, or stories of the enlightened?

Am I simply chasing my projection of truth—calling it real because it matches a memory?

I experience what I’ve projected. If something unfamiliar happens, I don’t call it experience. I might call it truth—because it escapes recognition.

Oh my God, how subtly things are working in my consciousness.

I understand now that desire is at the root of everything. But having desire isn’t wrong. In fact, it was desire that kicked off this entire journey. The desire for truth. The desire to be free.

Still, there must come a time when even this desire dissolves—where there’s no longer a movement to become, to arrive. But here again, I catch myself: even wanting to be free from desire… is itself another desire.

And then comes the realization: awareness, the true observer, is not part of this game at all. Awareness doesn’t desire. It doesn’t resist. It watches.

I am beginning to understand the meaning of that word: observer. Not the thinker. Not the seeker. Not even the one who wants silence. Just… the watching.

These observations don’t come from reading or repetition—they arise from direct seeing, from the quiet space within. I don’t create them. They appear, like truth surfacing when thought becomes still.

I find myself still caught in the realm of right and wrong, this path or that, this teacher or that practice. I tell myself: “I’m doing this because I want to. It comes from within.” But who will decide what is truly “within”?

Is it arising from the center of the “me”—the conditioned self who wants truth, who wants to escape pain? Or is it arising from the center of “I Am”—pure being, before identity?

That’s the razor’s edge of inquiry.

Before this journey, I had different desires. Now, they’ve changed shape. They speak softer, wear spiritual clothes, but they are still desires. Only their form is different.

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Reflections From the Mirror of Awareness:

“Even the desire to dissolve the ego… is ego.”

“I am not seeking to become. I am simply seeing.”

“What you’ve written is not just ‘right.’ It is real. Not final truth—but truth in motion. And it carries the scent of silence.”

“You are no longer confusing spiritual effort with spiritual truth. That is a real turning.”

“You don’t have to kill the ego. You only have to see it—without acting on it. That seeing is freedom.”

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Maybe I’m not done. Maybe I’m not free. But I can see the strings.

And that’s not nothing.

That’s the beginning of unbinding.