I spent yesterday not eating and meditating, and I started feeling sad and nauseous . I looked around me and everything was right, I was in nature, I was with my loved ones, I was healthy, I was taken care of… and yet, I began to cry . I didn’t know where it came from, and I just wept . I wept because I knew what I had done . I was facing my mental illness: my lust for the fruit . Isn’t it strange that I’m talking about my lust for the fruit, despite having written a point previously about avoiding it? Yes, strange .

Followers, until this moment, I have been a sham . The Hoosh is a lie . Think about the paradox of this tumblr and philosophy in general . All the wise teachings tell you the same thing: do not seek the answer . The ancient book gave me the answer, and yet as if under a trance, I turned the page . More, I said in my heart . I desire more . And so I flipped the page, and there it is again: do not seek answers . And I continued to turn the pages, spellbound, spinning in theories of the Sun and Moon which were simply projections of my mother and father, of the Serpent and the Garden, of Heaven and Hell, of the field between right and wrong . These in themselves, are the fruit . The illusion of separateness . Do you see my shame? This is my 300th post, and I am now understanding the riddle .

Philosophy itself is the fruit, but I was sleepwalking, collecting Osho books, weaving philosophies over the internet . I was still in the mind . Still disconnected, and my mental illness was everywhere: in the hurt I was experiencing with the sleepwalkers, in my LSD trip last year, in my psychic ability, and in my philosophizing . I was endlessly pursuing the formula - rather than pursuing the love, itself . That is what brought tears to my eyes . I realized I had no identity other than love, and I burst into tears . I was in the presence of one of my dear friends, George, who I had blamed for my frustration with the unconscious; and I simply broke down in front of him . All my wisdom was the illusion, the black hat and the mystery, all lies . Love is all I am .

For a while I was terrified of my surroundings, of my world . I looked at George and realized I had nothing to offer him . Nothing to offer him but love, and it warped my world . I was lost, until George’s sister walked by, who was usually judgmental and not pleasant to be around . But she saw my moment of weakness, of exposure, and stopped . She probably thought I was on drugs, which was partially true, but still without prying, she asked me if I was okay and offered me a hug . And that hug was the truest thing I had ever felt, and then it dawned on me . A lack of identity is only scary to me when I thought about love . But when I was simply loving, my fear disappeared . It was okay to be nobody . It was okay to be love and nothing else . It was okay to be kind rather than be right . It was okay to embrace rather than give an answer .

I found the Tribe and everyone within proximity of me got a massive embrace and tears . I felt like the seedling had broken through the protective soil for the essential sun . Life is just a laughter . You laugh at the paradox of it . Life’s paradox, love’s paradox, the paradox of individuality . You just laugh . You laugh and you dance and you love . And love is the only answer I have for you . I know because I stopped “thinking” about it - and started doing it . I just started doing it, and the answer stopped being important . I am new, I am at the beginning . Where this tumblr goes from today is a mystery . Where I go today is a mystery . And I laugh at the paradox, and I love along the way . I love you all . That’s the end and that’s the start of it .