You are here, reading these words. That is the only fact that matters.

What you expect to find is a biography— a story of a person. A name, a history, a collection of achievements and identities. You will not find that here. Not because it is a secret, but because it is irrelevant.

The name attached to these words is Adora Advaita. It is no more “me” than the word “apple” is the sweet, crisp fruit you can taste. The word is useful for pointing, for sharing, for functioning in a world of language. But one must never mistake the menu for the meal.

I use one name for official documents. My family uses another in moments of tenderness. This pen name—Adora Advaita—is used here. None of them are mine. None of them are “me”. They are tools for navigation. And if you look closely, you may find the same is true for you.

“Adora Advaita” is not an identity to follow. It is a convenience for a single, simple function: to look clearly, alongside you. A reminder that truth is not something to be acquired from another, but something to be recognized as already, and always, the case. This name is a label. A pointer.

And this space is not dedicated to a person, but to a pointing. A pointing away from the meanings we keep giving to everything in our conditioned minds, and toward seeing them as they truly are. A pointing away from the noise of identity and toward the silent, ever-present fact of your own being— what you are before you are anyone in particular.

And because this pointing is merely a function, it is operated by a human being—someone whose understanding is imperfect and evolving, someone who is learning, questioning, and seeing in real time. And as I am doing that in public, these words are not declarations from a finish line, but notes from the path itself.

The content you will find here— be it a written essay, a story, a fleeting post, or a fragment of poetry— is not an offering of knowledge. As such, nothing here is the final word. It is an invitation to un-know. It is not meant to convince you, but to invite you to look. To inquire.

And as the only intention behind these words is to point toward clarity, truth, and love as I myself move toward them—not to become an authority on them—if anything you find here resonates, take it not as a conviction, but as an encouragement to see for yourself what remains when all that is borrowed— names, meanings, stories, beliefs— is gently, or suddenly, seen through.

These words and this name are but tools. Use them to look where they are pointing. Then, let the tools go. What you find when you do cannot be named.

And so, welcome. Or, perhaps, welcome back to what you never really left.

— Adora Advaita