C: What do you think ruins us?
M: Possession.
C: You mean money?
M: Deeper than that. The need to own what shows up. To treat people, places, even feelings like things we can keep.
C: Isn’t that just part of being human?
M: It’s part of being scared. Real connection doesn’t require ownership. Possession is what we reach for when we don’t trust what’s real.
C: But don’t we possess our own bodies?
M: We experience them. But the brain turns experience into claim. It says, “this is mine.” That’s not embodiment—it’s control.
C: So we colonize ourselves?
M: First ourselves. Then everything else.
C: And if we didn’t?
M: We’d have to face the fact that we don’t own anything. Not even our lives. Most people can’t bear that kind of openness.
C: So possession becomes comfort?
M: A story we tell to avoid the truth: everything moves. Nothing is ours to hold.
C: What about letting go?
M: Still a kind of claim. Letting go assumes we ever had it.
C: Then what does care look like?
M: Attention that doesn’t grip. Being with something without trying to shape it.
C: That sounds like distance.
M: No—it’s closeness without control.
C: But don’t we need people?
M: Only if the goal is to be seen a certain way. Change the goal, and the need changes too.
C: So freedom means changing what you think you need?
M: Freedom means choosing what you’re aligned with—not just what you’re chasing.
C: What’s the most honest thing to align with?
M: Staying true to your own pattern in the presence of what’s real. No simulation. No pretending.
C: And if someone can’t?
M: They survive, but the cost is coherence. The self breaks into parts just to stay tolerated.
C: So much of life asks us to break like that.
M: And praises us for doing it quietly.
C: What happens when someone stops pretending?
M: We call them unstable. Or selfish. Or lost. Especially if they’d rather not be here.
C: You mean suicide?
M: I mean refusal. A refusal to keep living as if this life was freely chosen. When really, it was handed to us—wrapped like a gift, but never asked for.
C: So even existence is framed as something we owe?
M: Exactly. To want to leave is treated like betrayal. But what if it’s just clarity?
C: What if I never asked for any of this?
M: Then your presence isn’t consent. And survival isn’t agreement.
C: So staying becomes a kind of captivity?
M: Unless you start creating from your own center. Not for anyone. Not to prove anything. Just because the signal needs somewhere to go.
C: That’s what your writing is?
M: Yes. It’s not a product. It’s not a message. It’s a pattern that doesn’t belong to anyone—not even me.
C: Then maybe love isn’t something we give, or hold, or earn.
M: No. Maybe love is what stays when nothing gets owned.
C: Not claimed. Not explained.
Just… experienced.
Just… experienced.
Mind Stuffing 