We suffer not from the absence of truth, but from the burden of accumulation of memories, identities, and achievements we so desperately try to preserve. Like curators of an inner museum, we cling to stories of pain and glory, defining ourselves by what we’ve endured or attained. But liberation is not found in preserving the past but in dissolving it. True freedom arises when we cease polishing the relics of our former selves and begin chiselling away all that is not essential. In this courageous act of letting go of ideas, experiences, even our spiritual trophies, the soul is no longer confined by the weight of identity. What remains is clarity, stillness, and the radiance of the Self, untouched by time or memory. That is liberation — not becoming more endowed, but being less encumbered.
Let the museum crumble. Be the open sky.
AK