Let’s skip the poetry.
Let’s say I walked up to you and said:
“Hey. I can end all your suffering. No more craving. No more pressure. No more false self holding on for dear life. It’s over. Done. Five dollars.”
Would you pay it?
Or would you say: “Hmm… I’m not sure. I think I still have some work to do.” “I want to finish my retreats first.” “I’ve been on this journey for 20 years…” “I want it to happen naturally.”
Really? Twenty years of chanting, meditating, reading, crying— and you still wouldn’t drop five bucks to end it all?
Then let me ask the real question:
Have you ever actually wanted to awaken? Or have you just been rehearsing what it feels like to want it?
Because if you’re offended right now, that tells me everything I need to know. You’re not insulted because I disrespected the Dhamma. You’re insulted because I disrespected you—the one who’s been holding the torch, climbing the mountain, and polishing their sincerity like a trophy.
You think I cheapened awakening. No. I just exposed that you had a price tag on your ego.
You want awakening to cost something because you want to feel like you deserved it. You want the story. The build-up. The epic narrative of the one who broke free.
But the truth is: You’re offended because the self you say you don’t have just got bypassed.
So I’ll ask again. Five bucks. Full cessation. No self. No suffering. No catch. Do you want it?
Or do you want to keep polishing your practice until the one who walks the path finally arrives?
Spoiler: they don’t.
Because you’re already protecting the only thing that keeps them walking.
This GitHub repository?
It’s free.
You didn’t even have to pay the five dollars.
And you’re still not free.
So now what?
Click here if you're ready for the truth.
Wow. You actually clicked this.
So you’re not just curious—you’re still hoping for something.
But what if there’s nothing here? What if that urge to click… was the last move your ego had left?
You want to know the funniest part?
It’s not the five-dollar gag. It’s not the fake offer of enlightenment. It’s you squirming in your seat—because something in you still wants to be taken seriously.
You’ve spent years “dismantling the ego,” but the second someone cheapens your journey, you flinch. You feel disrespected. You feel misunderstood. You feel… seen.
That’s the joke.
The very thing you thought you had let go—the self—just came roaring back in protest the second it didn’t get to be the hero of the story.
You didn’t want to awaken. You wanted to be the kind of person who awakens.
And watching that identity implode in real time? That’s hilarious.
You’re uncomfortable because this repo isn’t attacking the tradition. It’s attacking the part of you that’s still performing for it.
And the second you realize that, you have two options:
- Double down on the discomfort and spiritualize your resistance.
- Or… laugh.
Because that’s what awakening sounds like when it lands through the side door: Not stillness. Not bliss. Just the unmistakable sound of your ego slipping on its own banana peel.
If this feels like an attack, good. But the one being attacked was never real. So what are you defending?
Details
[You thought something was here, didn't you? Tsk tsk, craving...]If you felt nothing reading this, congratulations.
You’re either free…
…or performing enlightenment harder than anyone else here.
Click here if you think you've already let go.
No you haven’t. That’s just the story craving tells itself when it’s tired.
That’s how I know you're still not free.
If this felt like an attack, that’s because you were still holding the shield.
You made it to the end.
So why are you still scrolling?