In the quiet of a truly attentive mind, there is no center. Attention, when pure, does not originate from the ego, nor is it shaped by the identity that says “I am watching.” It is a state of complete presence in which the observer and the observed are not divided. In such a moment, the concept of ‘me’ dissolves.

The ‘me’ is a psychological construct. It is the accumulation of memories, experiences, comparisons, fears, and hopes. It is always measuring, always evaluating, always projecting. The ‘me’ stands apart from what is happening, interpreting and filtering every experience through its own lens. When we operate from the ‘me’, our attention is fragmented. We do not see things as they are, but rather as they relate to us.

But attention in its purest form is not self-referential. It is not thinking about, it is not focused on a goal, it is not trying to change anything. It is simple, choiceless observation. To attend fully means to listen, to watch, to perceive without naming or judging. It is not passive, yet it is without resistance. It is total sensitivity.

To be attentive in this way is to empty oneself of past and future. There is no agenda, no clinging to identity, no defense of position. The mind is quiet without effort. In this state, time and thought lose their grip, and what remains is a direct, unfiltered perception. That clarity is only possible when the ‘me’ has completely disappeared.

This is not a mystical claim but a psychological fact that can be tested in experience. Try watching a tree, not as an observer with thoughts about trees, but simply watch without interference. That watching does not require the ‘me’. In fact, the more strongly the ‘me’ is present, the more distant the tree becomes. The same applies to relationships, to problems, to inner conflict. When we are fully attentive, the ego is gone.

Attention and the ego cannot coexist. The ego is concerned with becoming, with achieving, with protecting an image. Attention is concerned with seeing. Therefore, attention is freedom. It is not cultivated by practice, nor summoned by will. It appears when the mind is silent, when the observer vanishes, and only the seeing remains.

In that seeing, in that total attention, the self is abandoned. And only then is there a real encounter with life.