So long as I am not consciously empty, but retain here some imaginary remnants of personality, of body-mind, that is enough (seemingly) to divide the world into two parts, so ruining both. I have to cease overlooking the fact that this one (the seer) is evacuated with a total voiding, container along with contents, leaving here the perfection of mere capacity, pure receptivity; and leaving there (in the seen) the perfection of fullness, of infinite creativity.
In other words, the only way to clean up the world is to come clean oneself, and cease spoiling it by holding onto those very things which are needed to complete it. Then one sees it as all right because one faces it all and keeps nothing back; one sees it as sane because it is all there and none of it is here; one sees it has nothing to learn because this one has nothing to teach; one sees it as the completed object because one has no subjective reservations whatever, no ideals, preconceptions, preferences, or feelings in the matter. Now are restored to the universe its own infinite riches; all things are transfigured, aglow with morning splendour, now they are where they have always been anyway—over there—and none is here.