In the Parable of the Good Samaritan, we learn that a “certain man” was robbed, beaten, and left for dead.

Two men–a priest and a Levite–pass by on the other side, presumably taking the half-dead man to be their stranger.

Finally, a third man (the Samaritan), taking pity on this fallen man, “went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him” (Luke 10:34).

The nondual teaching takes seriously not the claim but the experiential knowledge that all beings, being nothing but the Divine Substance, are my neighbor.

The teaching starts to experientially ripen when, more and more, one feels one’s heart “going out to one”–yet this one is not some other, some stranger, but is instead an expression of that out of which all are made.

I can no more deny you than I can deny this hand. The ocean water can no more deny this wave or that one than it can deny itself, for each wave is, essentially, is nothing but water. Understood thus, the very essence of love–of universal, exceptionless love–makes its presence felt as the heart “going out,” but then, of course, the heart is, in truth, going neither in nor out since it is everywhere and nowhere.