There neither is nor can be any evidence for two parallel worlds (an unknown outer or physical world there, plus a known inner or mental world here which mysteriously duplicates it) but only for this one world which is always before me, and in which I can find no division into mind and matter, inside and outside, soul and body. It is what it’s observed to be, no more and no less, and it’s the explosion of this centre - this terminal spot where “I” or “my consciousness” is supposed to be located - an explosion powerful enough to fill out and become this boundless scene that’s now before me,
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