True knowledge is not shared en masse.
Not because it is secret, but because it is so uncomfortable that few want to hold it without adornments.

The Simplicity and Danger of Truth
Roberto Borrebach Klaui

Truth does not negotiate. It does not justify itself. It simply is. A clear sky, a sharp stone, a still pond—truth has this quality. It asks nothing, but it changes everything.

This simplicity is disarming. There is no need to interpret or explain it; it arrives like a bell ringing in an empty field. A child can speak it without effort. A monk may spend a lifetime returning to it.
And yet—truth is dangerous. Not because it wounds, but because it reveals what must fall away. The lies we tell ourselves. The masks we wear. The systems we serve. The comfort we cling to. Truth threatens all of it. It is dangerous to the ego, to delusion, to complacency. It is the sword that cuts through the tangle, the fire that burns the house of cards.

This is why the world often resists the truth—not with silence, but with noise. With distraction. With ideology. With fear. The truth is not complicated. But holding it is.
To walk with truth is to accept the cost: the loss of false certainty, the pain of seeing clearly, the solitude that comes from no longer agreeing to the game.
But in that space—what peace. What freedom. What love, unconditioned and vast.

R⛩B Living Zen