The seeker. The spiritual one. The self that is reading books like this, collecting insights, beginning — admit it, it has already begun — to feel slightly different from the people who don’t read books like this. The one quietly planning to become awakened, the way it once planned to become successful.

Watch it. The dream-self, caught dismantling itself, will pick up the dismantling and make it a new costume — the most flattering costume it has ever owned. The seeker is the final piece of weather, and it can be observed like all the rest: a wanting, a self-image, a story of progress — arriving, displaying itself, passing. Not this. Even this. Especially this.