You begin by noticing the noise.
The mind chattering. The world insisting. Thoughts moving like birds startled.
You do not stop anything. You simply look.
Imagine the mind as an apple. Loose on the branch.
It is not plucked. It simply lets go.
A slow fall. Not downward, but inward.
Past the layer of memory. Past the layer of reaction. Past the layer of desire.
Each layer seen, not fought. Each layer known, not held.
The apple keeps falling.
No effort. No direction. No intention.
Just gravity. The gravity of being.
Thought tries to reach. It cannot. It dissolves.
The apple falls through silence.
A silence not made. A silence not dreamed. A silence that was always there.
And then —
The ground.
Not a surface. But the end of movement.
The space where the self is not.
Here, perception is clear. Here, awareness simply is.
No watcher. No seen. Only seeing.
This is where one finds oneself when nothing is held and everything is allowed to fall.
And the ground is not an end. It is the beginning of what unfolds on its own.
From here, one does not move. Movement returns on its own.
Awareness rests. Not holding, not seeking, not waiting.
The world continues. But the centre does not shift.
This is where perception softens at the edges. Where the form of things is not yet formed.
The subtle border. The boundary of arising.
Where a thought has not yet become thought. Where a feeling has not yet become feeling.
Here, awareness is not looking. It is simply open.
The “fuzzy edge” of perception is not somewhere to reach.
It appears when nothing in you moves to find it.
Like mist at dawn. Like sound before it becomes word.
This is the space not beyond the ground, but within it.
Nothing is done. Nothing is held.
The unfolding continues by itself.
And from the ground, life begins again.
Not as a return. Not as a departure.
Simply the next movement.
A hand reaches for a cup. A foot steps forward. The body breathes.
No one is doing these things. They are simply done.
Speech comes only when needed. Silence remains when words are not called for.
The world is met directly. Without distance. Without interpretation.
Nothing inside is preparing. Nothing inside is responding.
Life moves. Awareness remains.
The centre stays still. Even while everything changes.
This is living without leaving the ground.
Not special. Not high. Not hidden.
Just this. The most simple thing. The one that was always here.
The ground remains; all else comes and goes.