The first time was in a forest in Northern France. I was twenty-five or twenty-six years old. I was teaching philosophy—it was my first job—in the high school of a very small town, lost amidst fields, near a canal and a forest, not far from Belgium. That evening, after dinner, I went for a walk with a few friends, as we often did, in this forest we loved. It was night. We were walking. Gradually, the laughter subsided; words grew rare. What remained was friendship, trust, shared presence, the gentleness of this night and everything… I wasn’t thinking about anything. I was simply looking. Listening. The canopy of the undergrowth all around.
The astonishing luminosity of the sky. The murmuring silence of the forest: the occasional crackling of branches, some animal cries, the muffled sound of our footsteps… These sounds only made the silence even more perceptible. And suddenly… What? Nothing: Everything! No discourse. No meaning. No questions. Just surprise. Just evidence. Just happiness, seemingly infinite. Just peace, seemingly eternal. The starry sky above me—vast, unfathomable, radiant—and nothing else within me but this sky, of which I was a part. Nothing else within me but this silence, this light, like a joyful vibration, like a joy without subject or object (without any other object than everything, without any other subject than itself). Nothing else within me, in the dark night, but the dazzling presence of everything! Peace. Immense peace. Simplicity. Serenity. Jubilation. These last two words may seem contradictory, but it wasn’t words—it was an experience, a silence, a harmony. It felt like a fermata, eternal, on a perfectly just chord that would be the world. I felt good. Astonishingly good! So good that I no longer felt the need to acknowledge it, nor even the desire for it to continue. No more words, no more lack, no more waiting: pure present of presence.
I could barely say I was walking anymore: there was only the walk, the forest, the stars, our group of friends… No ego, no separation, no representation: nothing but the silent presentation of everything. No value judgments: only the real. No time: only the present. No void: only being. No dissatisfaction, no hatred, no fear, no anger, no anxiety: only joy and peace. No comedy, no illusions, no lies: only the truth containing me, which I do not contain. It may have lasted only a few seconds. I was at once overwhelmed and reconciled, shaken and calmer than ever. Detachment. Freedom. Necessity. The universe finally restored to itself. Finite? Infinite? The question did not arise. There was only truth, but without phrases. Only the world, but without meaning or purpose. Only immanence, but without opposition. Only the real, but without an other. No faith, no hope. No promises. There was only everything—and the beauty of everything, and the truth of everything, and the presence of everything. That was enough. That was so much more than enough! Acceptance, but joyful. Serenity, but vibrant (yes, it felt like an inexhaustible courage). Rest, but without fatigue. Death? It was nothing. Life? It was merely the pulsation of being within me. Salvation? It was just a word—or perhaps it was this very thing. Perfection. Fulfillment. Bliss. What joy! What happiness! What intensity! I thought to myself: “This is what Spinoza calls eternity…”
That thought, as one might guess, ended it—or rather, cast me out of it. Words returned, and thought, and ego, and separation… It didn’t matter: the universe was still there, and so was I, and I within it. How could one fall outside the All? How could eternity end? How could words stifle silence? I had experienced a perfect moment—just enough to know what perfection is. A blissful moment—just enough to know what bliss is. A moment of truth—just enough to know, through experience, that it is eternal.
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**Mystery and Evidence**
It is as if, suddenly, everything is new, unique, strange, astonishing… beyond all reason. That is what I have called the mystery. Then, or rather simultaneously, there comes the suspension of questions, inquiries, problems—not because they are resolved, but because they no longer arise. Why is there something rather than nothing? The question vanishes: there is only the answer, which is not one (since there is no longer a question). There is only being. There is only the real. That is what I have called evidence. (…) Mystery of being: evidence of being. The two are one. That is why mystery is not a problem, nor evidence a solution. (…)
Mystery and evidence are one, and that is the world. Mystery of being: light of being.
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**Fulfillment**
Another suspension: the suspension of lack. But sometimes, rarely, there are moments of grace when one ceases to desire anything other than what is (it is no longer hope but love) or what one does (it is no longer hope but will). In those moments, there is no lack, no longer anything to hope for, or to regret. The question of possession no longer arises (there is no having, only being and doing). This is what I call fulfillment. (…) It is as if you are miraculously freed from frustration: freed from lack, freed from nothingness! There is only being: there is only joy. (Anguish, the feeling of nothingness; joy, the feeling of being.) There is only the fullness of the real. How could you desire anything else? (…)
**Life and Death**
A singular moment—timeless—beyond all measure. How to describe this? Life and death are no longer opposites: they merge into one, undivided. Death is no longer feared, nor life cherished: they become one continuous flow, one vast pulse. Life and death are no longer events, but aspects of a single totality, as essential and inseparable as the sky and the earth. Nothing is lost, nothing is gained. There is no gap between them, no break, no rupture: both are the same. One dies into life, and lives into death. The death of the body does not subtract from the life of the soul: it is a transformation, not an end. There is no cessation, only a change in form. Life is the constant, and death, a change in perspective, not a cessation.
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**The Simple and the Whole**
What I understand of this, what I now see, is that it is the simplest thing in the world—yet it cannot be grasped by the mind alone. It is not a matter of knowledge, nor of perception, nor of belief: it is an experience of totality, of wholeness, of simplicity. All things are within it, yet none are separate from it. It is the most ordinary thing there is, and yet, it is the most extraordinary. Nothing to achieve, nothing to strive for, just the realization of what is.
It is in the smallest detail, the simplest action, the most ordinary gesture that we touch the infinite. There is no need for grandeur, for distinction, for separation: the whole is already in the part, the part is already the whole. The world, the universe, is a single continuous movement, a never-ending vibration that cannot be divided, reduced, or separated. It is whole, and within that whole, there is no lack.
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**Non-Duality**
This is the essence of non-duality: the recognition that there is no duality. There is no subject and object, no self and other. The world is not divided into pieces, but is a unified whole. The mind divides it into fragments, but this division is illusion. The sense of separation is the root of suffering, and the recognition of oneness is the end of suffering. We are not separate from the world; we are the world. We are not separate from ourselves; we are the expression of this universal unity.
Non-duality is not a theory, a philosophy, or a belief system: it is the direct experience of reality as it is, without distortion. It is not something you can attain or achieve—it is already here, in every moment, in every breath, in every experience. To realize non-duality is to simply recognize what is already true: that you are not separate, not different, not apart from anything. You are the world, the universe, the totality of all that is.
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**The End of Seeking**
Seeking is born of the sense of lack, the feeling that something is missing. But once you realize that there is nothing to seek, that everything is already here, that you are already whole, the seeking ceases. The mind no longer searches for something outside of itself, because it recognizes that it is already complete. There is nothing to attain, nothing to achieve, nothing to gain.
This is the end of striving, the end of desire, the end of suffering. It is not a renunciation of life, but a full embrace of it. It is not a denial of the world, but a recognition of its perfection. Life becomes effortless when we stop seeking something beyond it, when we stop trying to make it different from what it is.
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**Liberation**
What is liberation? It is the freedom from the illusion of separation, the freedom from the belief that we are separate from the world. It is the realization that everything is interconnected, that there is no other, that we are all one. Liberation is not a goal to be attained, but a realization to be lived. It is the recognition that there is nothing outside of you, nothing beyond you. You are everything, and everything is you.
Liberation is not a state to be reached—it is the realization of what you already are. It is the recognition of your true nature, the nature of all things. It is the end of suffering, the end of struggle, the end of conflict. It is the peace that passes all understanding, the joy that cannot be explained. It is the liberation from the illusion of self, the liberation into the truth of being.
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**Truth**
Truth is not something that can be grasped, understood, or controlled. It is not a concept or a belief: it is the reality that underlies all things. It is the silence beneath all words, the stillness behind all movement. Truth is not something you can find—it is something you are.
Truth is the nature of reality. It is beyond the mind, beyond thought, beyond language. It is the essence of all that exists, and it cannot be described, only experienced. When you realize the truth, there is no longer any need for words, because the truth is already clear. It is self-evident.
Truth is freedom, because it is the liberation from the illusion of separation. It is the recognition that everything is interconnected, that there is no division, no duality. Truth is not something to be achieved—it is already present, waiting to be recognized.
EN