The self that longs to be free is the same self that can only be free by freeing itself of itself and then being no self. Its freedom is inherent in its extinction.

Centreless empty space is freedom, rest in peace—but right now. When else can there be peace, other than reposing in peace right now?  If there is a centre in the space there is a self, and the centre has a boundary, a within and without, and this implies potential conflict. Centre is self. Left to itself, self will appear—until it doesn’t.

Self-less centre-less space is not even space, it is the void. The void is all and nothing, is space for all, and nothing takes any space in the infinite void. It is utterly empty and entirely full—another paradox. Truly the human condition is at the very bottom edge of reality and realisation, so apparent paradox is inherent.

So to the meaning of the maxim, “die before you die”—die, self, before physical death—when the self will die anyway; you can do it yourself, or it is done for you, it’s your (apparent) choice; be you free.

But self must die of itself—self can’t kill itself. Self when desperate ends up with the notion of sui-cide, which is the death of the body by the cause of the self, not the death of the self by the cause of residing in being in the body. The prefix Sui here is not self-reflexive, self seen as self as-it-is; but is rather self projected out as an object in the world, an objective to kill.

Suicide has the death wish, the self-hatred, of the self in it; so to that small extent the impulse reflects a limited truth—the desire or need to get rid of the self—but there is inherent in suicide the lie of doing damage to the apparent vehicle—the body—and not to the self that is the source of, and the only embodiment of, the only real problem—which is its own self.

Self cannot kill itself as it wants to live, while hating itself. So how does it die? Through something greater, or deeper, or more real, that just does the job one happy day. This can only really occur once the attachment to, and conception of ‘myself’—that is the identification of ‘my self’ as being ‘my presence’—is seen through.

Once the false nature of the claim of the self to be ‘what I am’ is realised, there is an automatic detachment from the conception of the self as ‘the core of what I am’. This permits, or facilitates, the eventual displacement or dethronement of the central self from its position at the apparent centre. ‘Apparent centre’, because the centre is only so conceived because of the presence of the self centred at that centre. Once the self is dethroned the false centre that it occupied as a locus—or focus—is also robbed of its sustaining source of energy; it eventually simply dissipates like a smoke ring. Then there is no centre, and without a centre there is no edge or perimeter either. Not only is there no axle for the wheel, there is no wheel for the axle. The void is completely realised, and seen to be entirely full and utterly empty. It’s immaculate—but a perception, not a conception.

Is this difficult to grasp?

Of course it is—but only for the self! The self cannot grasp it, cannot ‘get it’, and never will. This level of awareness is the antithesis of what a self is. But because the self is at its core a false construct—self-defined—the living being that is always present behind the self can indeed ‘get it’ as an idea, and recognise the truth in it. This is because the idea is true, or as true as I can presently tell it, if we recognise the limitations of words in dealing with the essentially indescribable.

Don’t hate the central self, for it was created by you to save you; but finally it cannot do that any more. Don’t let its hate and fear, the roots of its creation, focus on you. Neither can it be loved, for it is the result, the end product, of pain that has not been, or could not then, be faced up to. Recognise it for what it is, a protective shell for the time that such protection is required. Let it be the cocoon from which your butterfly will hatch. Transmute it into the launch pad for the entry into freedom.


The fear that the self has of extinction is a false fear—but the self can never know that. The being can. Being without self is freedom, peace, joy of life.

There is no process in the freedom from self for it is instant—but there is the appearance of such a process, at least where these words are being written.

Having a centre is a habit, after all—and when the central throne is emptied, all the minor selves will try to occupy it, or rather the absence that is where it once was. Unlike the original central self, the energy invested in these lesser selves is so much less that the sheer self-sustaining involutional drive of the original is absent; the lesser self collapses once its energy is done.

Expect a succession of emotional selves to claim the centre. This is the opportunity for a real clear-out of the clinging past as they, for their moment in the driving seat, posture, strut and then fade away for ever. The job will be done in time.