Rejection is an empty room.
Is the hollow hell of fear we feel the clear and present absence as much and in or of ourselves as that of any Other?
We each and all in turn eventually reject that Other self and in dusty, mirrored isolation turn once more towards our own essential emptiness and even though it is discomforting, it remains visceral, intimate, private and familiar; it is our own.
Rejecting and being rejected are identical to a mind which does not at its core differentiate self and other but only ever sees itself – or, rather *a* self – reflected back from (and as) the half-mirrored labyrinth of this world.
This reflection or shadow of a self is actually all there is and even in defensively rejecting this as a possible state of reality and truth we only ever do so to avoid confronting the existential fact that we are not at the center of anything much at all beyond that which we make or inscribe as transient fiction upon a world which soon enough forgets us all.
It takes a hell of a long time to understand this.
We require that which lies beyond our self as an anchor or ontological pivot of reality but can never fully surrender to it, merge with it, because to do so would be to entirely invalidate and extinguish that difference by and through which we endlessly, uncertainly and temporarily self-define as real or significant and valuable in the world.
We find ourselves entangled, ensnared in an enigma that both defines and denies us reality.
For this reason: self is not the solution, it is the problem and love or freedom as Universal truths could only ever and quite literally be self-less.
Is it better to know the truth?
I think so.