The death of self of which the great writers speak is no violent act. It is merely the joining of the great rock heart of the earth in its roll. It is merely the slow cessation of the will's spirits and the intellect's chatter: it is waiting like a hollow bell with a stilled tongue. Fuge, tace, quiesce. The waiting itself is the thing.
The concept of self-death discussed by notable authors is not something drastic; rather, it reflects a natural process akin to the Earth’s steady motion. It signifies the calming of one's desires and thoughts, a transition from active engagement to a more passive state of being. This tranquility brings about a sense of connection with deeper truths and the world around us.
In this stillness, one awaits a deeper understanding, resembling a...
