Want to Write a Nondual Book? Good Luck With That

Especially if you think it’s more nondual than everything else.

You don’t want to know how many times I’ve heard the word nonduality.

Every day. Thousands of times.

And not even from other people. Just… everything.

Someone asks if I want a cup of tea? I hear nonduality.

Day-to-day stuff. Earthly errands. Grocery lists. It’s all soaked in it. Floating in it. Made of it.

Which is why, if you tell me you want to write a book about nonduality,
my response?

Good luck with that.

That’s probably going to be quite boring.

Everything is already coming from a nondual-inspired place. Even when it doesn’t say so. Sure, some books might be more paradoxical and poetic of nature, but even without that, the book would probably still be sincere.

You might twist clichés, play with form, lean into contradictions. You might sound wise, or cryptic, or raw. But so what?

So does the person asking me if I want still or sparkling.

So maybe let go of writing about nonduality altogether. Not necessarily the word. Keep the word. Burn the word. Doesn’t matter.

But the idea that some books are “more” nondual than others? That’s the hoax.

The whole thing’s nondual. Even this sentence trying hard not to be.

When everything is nonduality, writing about it becomes… a bit much.