“Space in its zeroless appearing allows substance to dissolve.” DTS 45
I wonder if zero is like our entrance into the human world and the zeroless like our departure. Birth, as seen by the family that welcomes a new arrival, may seem, to all but the mother who has lived with this coming forth for nine months, like a miraculous bursting forth from zero—to be followed, for the developing being, by the unfolding of days which branch out–lines drawn on a graph–around the XY crossing of a self.
But when we die, and when our perspective shifts into a recognition that our bodies are not for all of time, perhaps the zero point of the self also begins to wobble. Less and less does it seem that our lives are aiming for a circular hole into which we will be falling. Rather, we may experience a feeling of gradual absorption into another realm. Concerns for the problems of close family members are still there, sometimes acutely felt, and like an old dog we may thump our tails on the floor at the arrival of a dear face or tasty treat, but more and more everything is tempered by a recognition that we can’t do much about the things that have commandeered our deepest cares–beyond showing up in the here and now, as long as there is a here and now.