You are Perfect

“The mind creates the abyss, the heart crosses it” Nisargadatta Maharaj

"You wander from room to room, hunting for the diamond necklace that is already around your neck." Rumi

You need absolutely nothing. You are perfect just as you are. And this moment is perfect and complete just as it is.

If that statement feels off—by a few inches or a few kilometers—it’s probably because we’re not yet on the same page about who or what the 'you' I’m referring to actually is.

It’s not the “you” you are used to believing yourself to be—not the individual self living within the story of their life, moving through experiences, born one day and destined to die another.

And it’s not the voice in your head—the one that has been with you since childhood, fabricating and reinforcing that story, adding new layers to it every single day.

I don’t know if you’ve ever pondered this, but that voice in our head—that endless stream of thoughts, images, and concepts we normally identify with—is precisely what has been driving humanity to where it is now—on the verge of madness and total collapse.

At the same time, it is also the one trying so hard to convince us that something is still missing—that we haven’t arrived yet, that there’s still more to do, always more, more, more…

On one side, more possessions, more conquests, more knowledge, more power, more wars, more destruction—On the other, more detachment, more peace, more freedom, more wisdom, more enlightenment.

We like to draw distinctions, of course, according to our own vantage points, deciding what’s worse and what’s better, but in reality, it all stems from a single, unique and artificially created sense of lack.

Why artificially created? Well, because no matter the form it takes—be it the desire for enlightenment or the desire for riches and power—all psychological desires stem from one single, initial urge: improving the situation within the mind’s narrative.

Only a few sages throughout history—and fewer even of their followers—have actually investigated the narrative itself, its origins, and its functioning.

And what those people have found is astonishingly simple and obvious: it is none other than the voice itself, the mind, or the ego that has created all the imperfection, all the sense of incompleteness, and the lack it now suffers from. And this is true at the level of a single individual, just as it is for humanity as a whole.

And why does the mind create that sense of lack in the first place? Simply because without that emptiness to fill, without the drama, there would be no story to tell—and thus no me, no you, no individual self, no identity in the human sense, which means no society as we know it.

A broken record

You see, if you look closely at that voice in your head, you’ll notice that it’s actually not really alive on its own. It’s just made of words, of images, of concepts, which themselves are just energy patterns. 

Yet, paradoxically, it does seem to behave like a living creature—one with a relentless will to survive.

That energy of survival is what is being called the ego. And it depends precisely on that sense of incompleteness and lack to perpetuate itself. It is the essential thread holding it together, the cornerstone of its entire existence.

It’s easy to understand, then, why no matter how much you comply with its demands, no matter how much you give or accomplish to try and please it, it will never be enough. It may occasionally fall silent in response to getting what it wants, yes, but soon enough, it will start demanding something else. 

That is its nature. It feeds on incompleteness, on drama, on the endless pursuit of an idea of harmony and fulfillment it can neither enjoy nor experience.

So if you’re waiting for that voice to start telling a completely different story—if you hope to silence it, pacify it, or force it to align with any supposedly superior moral values—I have bad news for you. You’re betting on the wrong horse.

That voice only knows one script, and it will keep repeating it—over and over again—until it no longer can.
“I’m not enough yet.”
“This isn’t enough yet. It could be better.”

It may play it with slight variations, but it’s always the same track. 

And if it is pushed into a corner, as we often do through various forms of repressions, it will simply create more secret and perverted ways to operate.

It is essential to understand this: it will not accept being silenced or denied its principal source of nourishment: dissatisfaction with what is. 

So what to do?

Well, that’s precisely the point. Any intentional doing is only another attempt to resolve the conflict from within the false self-narrative. Whatever action is taken from that perspective can only be taken in the hope of transforming the voice of lack into a voice of fulfillment. But that is ultimately impossible because, as we’ve seen, the voice depends precisely on discontentment to exist.

The trick—if we can call it that—lies elsewhere. It lies in understanding what the truth is. 'The truth will set you free,' as it was said. So what is the truth? We’ll see if it's possible to approach it, how to do so, and we’ll break that down into a few aspects. The first one is simple; we’ve already touched upon it, and we’ll clarify it once more: You can’t really pacify the mind. It’s simply not possible.

…and it doesn’t matter

Thought vibrates between opposites. It will never settle on either of them. Therefore, the idea that, at some point, through effort, discipline, or by the grace of God, it will come to a still point, stop being demanding and be completely pacified is complete nonsense. Sooner or later it will start being itself again. 

And that’s the first great mistake we continuously make, to believe that we can influence this voice or somehow pacify it. We try to do it either by giving it what it wants, disciplining it, or repressing it. None of that works. All of it only reinforces its importance. What you fight, becomes stronger.

Another great mistake—equally subtle to discern—is believing that what this voice has to say does actually matter. Because, as surprising as it may seem, it doesn’t.

Yes. It doesn’t matter at all what the voice says—because that inner voice isn’t yours. You are not your thoughts. You are not that inner narration that goes on and on; it’s all happening on its own, completely spontaneously. Moreover, it exists completely in its own separate fantasy land. It doesn’t truly speak about you. It's just endless empty bla bla.

Or, more precisely, it only ever speak about itself. It knows nothing else but itself.

Perhaps even more surprising is the fact that, the only one in the entire universe that is actually concerned with what this voice has to say, the so-called ego, does not even really exist in the first place.

Who cares?

Try it. Try not to think a single thought for the next ten minutes. Or try having only happy thoughts for the rest of your life. If that was possible, no one would ever need anything. Everyone would simply decide to be happy with whatever their situation is in the present moment. But it’s not the case.

And the real heart of the matter, here, isn’t to know whether or not thoughts can be controlled, but to understand that the supposed controller is itself just another idea. He doesn’t really exist outside of the mind itself.

The “me” we take ourselves to be—the central entity that’s supposed to be in control of the stream of thought—is just another thought. Just another pattern within that same stream of thoughts. There is no separate self beyond that imaginary character.

Whatever you think you are is not who you truly are. That’s just what’s going on in thought. And thought is nothing but a limited and purely abstract interpretation of what is actually happening. It is in no way representative of what’s truly going on.

Nothing needs to be changed

So, once again, I’m not suggesting that this voice should change in any way, that it should start telling you a different story—one where everything is fine and nothing is ever needed again. It cannot do that.

What I am suggesting is that it doesn’t actually matter what that voice says—because it isn’t really you anyway. It isn’t what you truly, fundamentally are.

It’s just a voice. An appearance. A pattern. It may seem alive, but it isn’t. You are conscious of it, but it isn’t conscious of anything. And as we’ve seen, no one has ever had any control over it. It’s all just happening.

Therefore, nothing really needs to be modified. Everything just needs to be understood for what it is—deeply and with pristine clarity.

Truly understanding this—not just intellectually, but consciously becoming one with the truth—is one of the most profound revelations a human being can ever encounter in his lifetime.

It is the most radical act of rebellion ever possible. What it really means, is that you finally understand that you are free. You don’t become free, you have always been free. Not the you that’s in the story, but the you beyond the story. And not free within the story, but free from the story.

What shifts?

What can happen with this understanding is nothing spectacular, but it is very profound. A simple shift in attention. You now understand clearly that the ego narrative is a lost cause and a complete illusion. So, all the energy you were putting in trying to maintain it alive, improve it or influence in any way, is now free. And that, in itself, brings tremendous relief.

The story doesn’t disappear, and the voice is left alone to continue as it wishes—but it feels lighter, carrying fewer implications, less weight, less gravity. Sometimes, it naturally fades into silence, allowing awareness to rest fully in presence, absorbing each moment completely, simply dissolving into being. No inside, no outside. No before, no after. Just this.

Simply what is

The song of a bird. The light filtering through the trees. The wind caressing your face. The murmur of a crowd, its voice reverberating between buildings.

You might slowly come to realize that what you once thought was merely the background of life has, in fact, always been the foreground—the most important part, where all the real essence of life is found.

And that the narrative you once believed to be so crucial is just one of many fleeting patterns to enjoy, appearing and disappearing within it.

And you may wonder—How have I missed this great simplicity, that perfection all along?

IMF, Vang Vieng - Laos, 4 February 2025