Lose yourself to dance скачать в хорошем качестве

Lose yourself to dance

If you like this video, please like and subscribe and consider donating to NKosi. https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/Nkosi... Dance is not an activity performed by someone. It is energy expressing itself. The form may be called dancing, but the naming is incidental. What moves is not an individual body, and what feels good does not belong to a person. The feeling arises because energy is already in motion, already expressing itself as rhythm, movement, vibration. The story may claim ownership, I enjoy dancing, I feel connected, but the experience itself precedes the idea of an experiencer. Every so-called good feeling is of the same nature. Whether it appears as dancing, playing a bass guitar, singing, riding a bicycle, solving equations, or sitting in a boardroom during a meeting that somehow feels right, it is the same boundless energy experiencing itself in a particular configuration. The narrative may assign preference or identity, but the sensation itself has no owner. It does not belong to a self. It is already whole. Because of this, there is no wrong or right in the expression. The feeling of connection to a source, to God, to a higher self, is not a step toward something else. It is already the case. The idea that one is going somewhere, toward unity, enlightenment, or completion, is part of the story layered on top of what is already happening. Energy does not move toward itself. It simply appears as this. Everything is an expression of wholeness, regardless of the shape it takes. Some feel joy through music, others through singing, walking, dancing, or silence. Even the feeling of disconnection is already happening within that which is never disconnected. Feeling bad arises within that which is neutral and unchanged. Good and bad, left and right, noise and silence appear as opposites, but they do not disturb what underlies them. There is no experiencer that can be located. The sense that there is someone there is assumed, never proven. Pain may appear, sympathy may arise, stories may form around names and identities, but the sensations themselves do not belong to anyone. Everything is empty of ownership because everything is already this boundless energy. When thought is absent, nothing is said to happen. Events only appear as events when thought narrates them. Walking, talking, blinking, digestion, reflexive movement all occur without commentary. The body moves out of the way of a car without deliberation, just as the eyes blink without instruction. Thought arrives afterward and claims authorship, but it is always late. So movement is not movement in the way the story imagines it. Cars moving, birds flying, conversations unfolding, bodies dancing, this is energy appearing as motion. There is no one going anywhere. No one arrived. No one leaves. The appearance of movement arises from that which does not move. Silence is not the absence of noise. It is untouched by noise. Even the loudest explosion does not disturb it. This silence is always present, deeper than sound, louder than noise, and independent of conditions. The search for a quiet place misunderstands this, imagining that silence requires the removal of disturbance, when disturbance itself cannot touch what is already still. Limitation appears, but limitation is not real. It is an expression of limitlessness appearing as constraint. The capacity to appear limited depends entirely on what is not limited. There are no actual boundaries, only thought-based interpretations of boundaries. What is often sought as enlightenment is not a gain. It is the loss of something that was never there, the belief in a separate self. Nothing is added. What remains is ordinariness without seeking, without checking, without narrative. Nothing ever happened, and no one ever did anything. What is has never been born and therefore never dies. This ordinariness is sometimes misunderstood as denying mastery or depth. Yet what is labeled mastery is never experienced as extraordinary by the one through whom it appears. The fascination belongs to the observer who believes in separation. There are no magicians. There is only this, appearing in innumerable ordinary ways. The body is a form through which this expresses itself. Life is not sustained by control, identity, or narrative. Healing happens without a controller. Renewal occurs without permission. Even science, when examined closely, cannot locate an agent behind action. Causation unfolds, but authorship does not appear. The world, then, is not merely amazing. It is inexhaustible. Whether described as energy, prana, chi, or something else, the name does not matter. What appears is endlessly varied, endlessly ordinary, and complete without explanation. Nothing needs to be added. Nothing needs to be removed. This is already it.