A Neurosis, 20000 years in the making

Life was never yours to carry.

Settle in for a moment. Observe where you are. If you are outside, notice how the trees sway in the wind. If you are inside, observe the movement of air in the room, the subtle shifts in sound, and the sensations of sitting.

Everything is happening automatically. The clouds drift, the birds fly, the heart beats, and the lungs expand and contract. Even thoughts appear and disappear on their own. There is no effort behind any of this. It moves as it must, without hesitation, without interference.

Yet, somewhere in the mind, a small voice arises: "I am doing this."

It claims ownership over the breath, thoughts, and movement. It insists that it is making choices, controlling actions, and directing life. But did it ever truly exist in the way it claims? Or is it simply a reflexive afterthought—a label applied to something already happening?

If you look closely, the dividing line between what is automatic and what is "willed" begins to dissolve. What you assumed was controlled was always moving on its own. The thought "I am choosing" is just another automatic occurrence—no different from the wind blowing or a bird taking flight.

The Emergence of 'I'

Before language, before memory, before identity, there was only movement. The body moved, the mind reacted, the world unfolded, and no separate "I" was overseeing any of it.

At some point in evolutionary history, this changed. The brain developed a self-referential loop—a capacity to reflect upon itself. It became aware of its own movements, thoughts, and processes. From this, an idea was born: "I am."

But this was not a discovery of truth. It was an adaptation—a function that made survival easier. This internal model allowed humans to plan, anticipate, and narrate their actions in a way that created cohesion in groups. It helped track the past and predict the future. It allowed for social positioning, the concept of reputation, and the illusion of agency.

But evolution does not prioritize truth. It only selects what is useful. And so, the idea of 'I' persisted—not because it was real, but because it was effective.

The Fundamental Misunderstanding

The sense of 'I' is an epiphenomenon—a secondary effect, like a shadow cast by a moving body. The shadow shifts stretches, and changes as the body moves but does not cause the movement; it merely follows it.

Likewise, the 'I' does not initiate action. It simply arises after the fact, claiming ownership over what was already happening.

• A hand reaches for a cup. A moment later, the mind says, "I reached for the cup."

• A thought arises. The mind says, "I thought this."

• A decision is made. The mind says, "I chose this."

But did you? Or did it just happen? Look closely. Was there a moment when an independent 'you' stepped in to initiate the process? Or did everything move, as it always does, without any actual author behind it?

This is not simply a debate about free will. It is something far more fundamental: the realization that there was never a doer to begin with.

A Civilization Built on an Illusion

Now, imagine an entire world built upon this misunderstanding. Laws, morality, religion, ambition, shame—all of it assumes that there is a separate self-making decisions, acting freely, and being responsible for its successes and failures.

• People are praised and blamed as if they were the actual authors of their actions.

• Anxiety arises from the belief that choices must be made correctly, as if there is an 'I' separate from life's unfolding.

• People resist and fight against what already is, believing they must impose their will upon reality.

But this is why human life is so difficult—not because reality is against you, but because you are living with a false assumption. The weight of individual responsibility, guilt, and control rests upon a foundation that was never real.

So, every generation believes it is standing at the edge of disaster, that things are getting worse, and that its time is uniquely chaotic. But this is not insight—it is simply aging.

When you are young, the world and your mind move together. The world moves forward as you age, and the mind lags behind. It feels unfamiliar, and so it mistakes misalignment for decline. But nothing is collapsing. The world is not unraveling. It is simply moving forward, as it always has.

The End of the Illusion

So what happens when you truly see this? When is the illusion of 'I' no longer assumed? Does everything fall apart?

No. Nothing changes—except that the struggle disappears.

• The breath still moves, but no 'I' controls it.

• Thoughts still arise but are no longer mistaken for an independent self.

• Life still unfolds, but the impossible weight of authorship is gone.

A dog barks. A car passes. A thought arises that says, "I am."

All of them are just occurrences in awareness—equally automatic, equally transient. One of them claims ownership. But why? What makes the thought of 'I' more memorable than the sound of the wind or wave movement?

It isn't. It never was.

And once this is seen, the burden lifts. The false responsibility, the impossible weight of control, the unnecessary suffering—all of it dissolves.

There was never a problem. There was never a struggle. Life is, and has always been, whole.

Not because you found the answer—

but because there was never a question.

Let this sit.

Nothing more needs to be done. Nothing needs to be achieved.

Everything is already happening. Automatically. Effortlessly.

As it always has.