A Letter from Zaheer

​

You’re not a piece...
You’re the whole.

↓

Take a single sheet of printed cardboard.

Now imagine cutting it into a thousand pieces.

Suddenly, a puzzle appears.
Edges. Shapes. Separation.
And with it, a problem to solve.

But in truth, it is quietly whole.
Nothing broken.
Only outlined.
Only imagined.

The picture was always intact.
The image never changed...
Only your attention did.

⸻

The same with chess.
You carve a block of wood into kings and pawns.
You paint one white, the other black.
Add rules. Assign power.
And suddenly, there is conflict.
Strategy. Death.

But what remains when the game ends?

Just pieces.
Just wood.
Just imagination.

⸻

This is how the mind works.
It draws lines across the whole —
and believes what it sees is real.

It names a shape.
Calls it “me.”
Then spends a lifetime defending the outline.

Before edges.
Before names.
Before story.

⸻

Look closely.

The idea of a “you” is no different than a corner piece.
No different from a pawn.

It appears unique...
only because you’ve forgotten its source.

There is no king.
No enemy.
No missing piece.

Only the field.
Only the board.
Only the uncut wholeness
beneath all ideas of meaning.

⸻

The world you experience...
with its battles, its puzzles, its patterns...
is a projection.
A tracing of thought on what cannot be divided.

You drew the lines.
And now, you think you need to solve it.

But it’s not a puzzle to complete.
It doesn't get solved —
it dissolves through presence.

You made up the game.
And now, you think you must win it.

But this isn't a game against others.
You're the only one playing:
all the pieces,
all the roles,
all the rules.
It disappears through realization.

⸻

The moment you stop playing,
you see it clearly:

The shape you called “me” was just a temporary outline
on something too vast to name.

And in that seeing…
comes peace.

Not because the game is over.
But because it never existed...
only the illusion of it.

⸻

Pause and reflect:

What is left to solve...
when the solver was the illusion?

⸻

A gentle dare:

Step off the board.
Set down the piece.
Let the puzzle remain unfinished.

With no problem.
No player.
No separate self to win or lose.

Just presence, unmarked.
Grace, unlimited.
And the silent invitation beneath it all:

Come home. It's time.

Zaheer

P.S. If this letter unsettled something in you, let it. It’s the recognition of truth. If you need help integrating it, let's chat.
​P.P.S. If you missed my letter from last week, read it here: There was never a you​