Heaven is always here before language

There’s a quiet recognition here, and it doesn’t belong to any religion, philosophy, or spiritual system.

It’s simply this:

If a human being never learned language, they would never seem to leave what many traditions later try to describe as heaven.

Not because human life would be perfect, safe, or free from pain — but because nothing would ever seem divided.

Before words

Before language, Reality is seamless.

Try it now - What is here without language to define it? Go directly to that clear space.

There maybe sensation, movement, sound, light, warmth, hunger, rest. But these are only descriptive labels — not separate things. What is here if you peel off all labels, all words?

If there is no commentary about what is happening?

Life is simply happening.

The moment language appears, something so subtle occurs.

Experience/ reality gets named. What is named then 'seemingly' appears distinct and separate, 'apart' from Wholeness or God. What 'appears' distinct gets organised into stories. Our brains have been conditioned to do it automatically; create dialogue and stories 'about' what is arising. Reality according to 'me'!! :)

This isn’t a mistake. It’s how humans function. Language is extraordinarily useful. As our brains became more complex through language we became more sophisticated with our communication style.

But it does something quietly radical:

It turns what is happening into something happening to a separate 'someone', to 'me'.

Once a seeming 'separate' reality is owned, it needs to be 'managed'.

Children don't try to preempt, micromanage or control reality - they simply are.

The invention of “me”

With language comes reference:

• This is me

• That is you

• This happened before

• That might happen later

None of these are wrong. But they are abstractions — not Reality per se.

A baby does not experience itself as a separate entity moving through time. There is warmth, discomfort, sound, relief, contact.

There is no time/ space, so no past or future.

No centre.

No narrator.

So no problem to solve.

No one to whom life is happening.

That’s not innocence in a moral sense — but it is innocence.

Not purity. Not naivety.

Just experience before it is divided, interpreted, or owned.

Heaven is immediacy

When people speak of heaven, it’s often imagined as somewhere else. A place beyond life, or a state reached later.

Some future Utopia...but never 'here'.

But what if it isn’t elsewhere at all?

What if it’s simply Reality, now, before it’s 'seemingly' divided and explained according to 'me'?

Before language tells us:

• what something means

• whether it’s good or bad

• who’s responsible

• how it fits into 'my' personal story.

Without that 'imagined' layer, experience doesn’t fragment. It doesn’t argue with itself. It doesn’t judge itself.

Pain can arise. Pleasure can arise. Anger can arise. Anything can arise.

But no arising becomes personal narrative. Nothing is carried forward. Nothing is stored as identity. This is what is meant when spiritual traditions say nothing has ever actually 'happened', Separate events 'seem' to happen when reality is seemingly divided by language (thought). The brain takes a snapshot and puts the snapshots in a linear sequence and brain calls it movement through time.

Nothing ever actually moves.

Reality is silent, undivided clarity.

Eternally.

Symbols do this too

This isn’t about spoken words alone.

Sign language, images, gestures, internal symbols — all perform the same function. They represent experience.

And representation always comes after the fact.

Confusion only appears when representation is mistaken for reality itself. When the map is taken to be the territory.

The word “I”

There is one word that quietly appears in almost every sentence we speak or think.

I.

It slips in unnoticed and immediately claims ownership:

• I think

• I feel

• I decided

• I experienced

But look closely.

Thoughts arise on their own. Feelings move through the body without permission. Decisions happen. Words are spoken. Actions unfold.

All spontaneously.

So what exactly is this I referring to?

Not a location. Not an object. Not anything that can actually be found. Just a series of memories, thoughts, we call 'I'.

The word I is a grammatical convenience — a placeholder used by language to organise experience after it has already happened.

When it appears in every sentence, it creates the impression of a central controller.

A doer. An owner. A someone to whom life is happening.

But outside of language, that entity is never actually located.

There is breathing. There is sensing. There is thinking. There is responding.

But no separate I doing any of it.

There are not two — reality and “me”. There is simply what is happening.

Yet this 'I' thought seems to be the culprit of all suffering!

Losing the Kingdom

As children, we don’t so much fall from grace or perfection; we simply learn to narrate experience and create a construct called “I”—an “I” that seems to fall out of heaven or unified consciousness..

We (the brain) learns to say:

This shouldn’t have happened to me.

I shouldn’t feel this.

I shouldn’t have done that.

They are like this.

I am like that.

Gradually, a world of divisions seemingly solidifies.

Self and other.

Past and future.

Right and wrong.

Useful distinctions—yet unbearably heavy when taken as absolute truths about who this “me” claims to be.

The weight doesn’t come from life itself.It comes from the story the “I” tells about life.

And the quiet truth is this:

You never actually became the “I.”

Much of spirituality, religion, self-help, or the pursuit of worth, esteem, or success is an attempt to refine or perfect the “I” so it can regain the Kingdom of Heaven.

But the Kingdom was never lost.

Only the “I” believes it was—and the “I” is nothing more than a beautiful, functional, illusory construct.

Nothing needs to be undone

This isn’t an argument for getting rid of language. That’s neither possible nor desirable.

Language allows connection, creativity, coordination, love.

The shift is much simpler.

It’s seeing language as language.

As something that points. Not something that defines reality in any absolute way.

When this is seen clearly, experience loosens, it becomes lighter and freer, there's simply more space.

Thoughts arise — and pass. Judgements arise — and pass. Stories arise — and pass.

But they no longer claim ownership of what is happening.

Life is recognised as ultimately unknowable. A spontaneous, mysterious unfolding that can simply never be captured or defined by words.

The quiet return

Nothing dramatic occurs.

No special state is achieved and maintained.

Life continues exactly as it is.

So wonderfully, magically ordinary.

But something subtle relaxes:

The belief that words are reality.

The belief that stories are truth.

The belief that separation is real.

And in that simplicity, something so ancient and familiar is revealed.

Not heaven as an idea.

But life before it is divided.

Still speaking.

Still thinking.

Still wonderfully human.

Just no longer mistaking language for Reality....