As a friend was passing from this life, his friend wrote to him. In the letter he said: "As you have lived this entire life without ever being able to realize the true essence of your mind, it was never born, and thus it cannot ever die. This being true, it was not what we could consider an existence, and that being established, now we know it cannot perish, for to do so it would have had to have existed. As we can speak of it, it could not be emptiness, so obviously it was a void, meaning it had no color, or form. It felt no pleasure or pain."
"I know, as I write to you, that you are very sick and that you suffer deeply. You are dealing with your situation straight on and with fortitude. Given what I have explained to you, you cannot understand who is doing the suffering. What you need to do at this point is to ask yourself; why am I coveting this mind? I have no need for this. Your end is as a leave floating from the branch to the ground. Enjoy the breeze."
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