Long before the Buddha, a sage named Yajnavalkya (say "yahj-nyuh-vulk-yuh") in the Brihadaranyaka (say "bri-huh-dah-run-yuh-kuh") Upanishad taught a method of finding the self by subtraction, answering every question about it with the same two words: not this, not this. Whatever you can point to, describe, or name is not it, because it is what's doing the pointing. This isn't nihilism, a claim that nothing is real or nothing matters. It's closer to clearing a table: set aside everything you can name, one object at a time, and notice what's left doing the noticing. The text returns to this formula more than once, describing what remains as imperceptible, never decaying, never attached, unfettered by any of the things it was cleared away from. This morning, before you reach for the first label of the day, I'm behind, I'm anxious, pause for one breath and set that story aside too. Notice what's aware of the label, underneath the label itself.