When the ten thousand things Are viewed in their oneness, We return to the origin, And remain where we have always been. Thus their origin is forgotten, Nothing is left over to make us pit One thing against another. To where effect of action ceases. Doubt is washed away, and faith has no obstacles. Nothing is left over, nothing remembered.
Space is bright, and self-illumined.
No power of mind is exerted. This is where thinking never attains, This is where the imagination fails to measure. In the high realm of true Being, There is neither self nor other. Yet all objects are included. For it is not a thing of time and space.