Imagine finding yourself on the verge of death and that you must quickly make your last farewell to life. Your life's history does not flash by like a newsreel on fast-forward, but it is as if you suddenly respond by releasing a secret store of happiness in a few emblematic scenes unsullied by memory. What most of all you owed to this existence about to conclude, in full gratitude. All the things you think about, all the themes of your striving and attainment, or what you gave your heart's desire to or failed at, would be cast away in an instant, it would be what all of these concealed, the thoughtless simplicity of ordinary being, without any striving, embodied from the tips of your toes to the ends of your hair. Not any of the many hearths and beds you made your home in so that they faded beneath your notice, but the room behind them, their archetype, the place you were always trying to get back to in your dreams that was always here anyway. Cease from looking for it and it is here, only learn to recognise it, whenever.