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I loved Enso Roshi__ teachings. I loved learning about life. I loved life. It was a good thing to feel. I loved life, and I loved learning, and I was still learning. I was not, yet, done. At the end of our journeys, there would be an end to the journey. Maybe. If I was lucky. If providence shone down upon me gently. I would find love. I would find acceptance. Complete love. Complete acceptance. I would know, that the self, is an illusion. I would come to enlightenment, but that would also mean, there would be no ___ there. I would realize that the ___ was an illusion, all along, just like some great dream. This is what the wise sages say, the great teachings, the mystical teachings, not only from the East, but also from the West. The Gospel of Saint Thomas. Thomas Merton. Thomas, like I was Thomas, and also doubting, the main reasons I__ chosen the name. If nothing else, it was lovable, just as it is. My life. Even the parts I didn__ love, could I love them? The struggles. It was all part of the journey, and would I not look back fondly on this, at some time? Look at how arduous and sincere I__ been. Look at how worried I__ been. Look at how insecure I__ been. Look at how I__ struggled. Trying to find my way. Would I not look back upon myself, affectionately and fondly and with love?