To whom is the sage talking?

We are told by the sages that we do not exist as separate autonomous entities.
To whom are they addressing their statements?
In recognizing our plight, are they adding to our burden by even talking to us?


A valid question .

A dialogue between a "sage" and a "seeker" is as much a functioning as any other functioning within phenomenality.

In the phenomenal sense, it's the highest act of compassion.

No other "acts" of compassion in phenomenality, come near about the underlying compassion of this milieu.

So, if there is no seeker, to whom is the sage telling that there is no seeker and thus no seeking.

To no one.

The sage demolishes the sense of entitification "as a seeker" and thus demolishes the sense of "as a sage"

And thus really there is no "sage" telling a "seeker" AND there is no "seeker" listening to a sage.

There is only the delight in expounding, the sheer exhilaration in the functioning of prattling, which notionally requires the notionality of separation, the apparent separation between a speaker and a listener.

As like any other functioning in phenomenality.


Are they trying to convince us that we are not real by suggesting that we, as entities, can do nothing?


No sage ever tries to convince anybody for anything.

No sage ever tries anything.

Convincing somebody or something that it is not real, is an oxymoron.

Convincing an entity that it can do nothing is still assuming the reality of an entity (which cannot do anything)

Doing or not doing is not the issue.

The sense of entitification is the issue.

It's a notional issue, so that you can delight with it, play with it, love it, hate it, seek it's meaning, pronounce it meaningless, seek it's concretization, seek it's dissolution, feed it, starve it, question it, silence it, stamp on it, dress it up.


Games come to existence, so that playing is possible with this sense.

It's like a king, who has conquered every land, every kingdom that the eye can see, that the mind can envisage.

All the lands around him, is his.

After the frolicking with all his queens is over, he is now sitting, twiddling his thumb.

Now what to do?

No thrills, about the planning of any conquests, no joy in getting the wherewithal's together for the conquest, no exhilaration about battle.

All is his, already.

So out of boredom he thinks about an idea.

He will pretend a piece of his kingdom is not his.

And he blows the bugle for battle, for now he has something to seek.

God, am I alive, thinks he, girding his loins for another joust with his queens before proceeding for that primal orgasm of battle.

The queens of course are quite happy with all this pretending business, as it saves them coming up with a headache, whenever the king is around.



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