The thought that there is what-you-are and that it is connected by opposition to the world, so that the more the world looms in awareness the the more of you is absorbed in otherness leaving only a sort of pilot light burning for the self, and the more the self expands the more it fulfills itself so that the world retreats, tamed and optional for your service, is just another thought. Thoughts in thrall to the image of a chessboard where you play out an endlessly teetering stalemate against the world, arraying forces and strategies, sacrifices made and exacted, but nothing in the nature of thought decrees that it must look like this. Instead consider that at every moment all of you and all of world are in play together, not an idea but a different way of thinking, of thought being used, being sung. Self is not lost, not hidden, not promised, not like anything, fully present in presence that at the same time is enacting a world. If you close your eyes or open them it makes not the least difference, no forces have been regrouped. There is no compensation, no exchange, nothing is concealed, the love is immense, at first, at last.