Father Labby feels the treatise tightening around him, closing the circle on the only sin: the I. The question “What is my sin?” already contains the fracture. The dialectics, the difficult turns of language, the sharp edges near the end - they were not meant to enlighten him but to corner the ego until it cannot move. A blade disguised as theology.

And in that pressure, something subtle returns.

He notices the blue spark again, not fully, not brightly, faded, but present. Not surging, not pulling him upward, not burning with will. It is simply there. Stationary. A small pulse of being that neither demands nor resists. A spark that seems at peace with stillness, as if it no longer cares to act. As if it knows that movement is just another form of “I.”

This quiet spark mirrors the treatise’s final teaching: when the ego dissolves, what remains is not intensity but neutrality. Not ecstasy but clarity. A presence without a person.

He senses how this connects to the movement toward Parabrahman, the unqualified Real. The spark is not a sign, not a message, not a mystical event. Just the residue of existence after the self stops interfering. Sufis call it Dhat, Advaita calls it Nirguna Brahman, but Father Labby experiences it as a blue stillness that neither rises nor falls.

Meanwhile, the world continues its noise. The trolling, the envy, the ego‑sparring was there - people defending their identity as if it were their life. He did not understand it anymore - what for? And more awkwardly felt no energetical exhiliration  towards it. Students arguing quotes, strangers policing meaning, competitors trying to pull others down. He sees it all as the same reflex: the self terrified of dissolving.

But he does not descend into it. He does not argue. He does not justify. He simply continues. Integrity is not a stance but the absence of performance.

In the end, his conclusion came out simple:

There is no sin but the I. There is no path but its undoing. There is no Real but the Real. And the spark, whether bright or still, is only what remains when the circle closes. Shimering, floating, not-doing.

Everything else is commentary.