Theravāda texts unpack non-self (anattā) by inviting a close look at experience, peeling away any hint of a permanent “I.” Right off the bat, the Anattā-lakkhaṇa Sutta (SN 22.59) declares that each of the five aggregates—form (rūpa), feeling (vedanā), perception (saññā), mental formations (saṅkhāra) and consciousness (viññāṇa)—fails to satisfy the hallmarks of selfhood: permanence, bliss and autonomy. None endures forever, none delivers lasting happiness, and none can be willed or controlled.

A rhythmic triad—impermanence, suffering and non-self—threads through the Samyutta Nikāya and the Dhammapada (verses 277–279). Where anicca and dukkha spotlight constant change and the pain of clinging, anattā cuts the root by insisting that no stable “essence” lurks behind sensations or thoughts. Rather than positing a subtle soul, the teaching portrays a fluid process—like waves arising and dissolving on the sea of consciousness.

Commentarial voices, most notably Buddhaghosa’s Visuddhimagga, translate this insight into meditational milestones. In vipassanā practice, mindfulness brings a raw datapoint: “This is just hearing; this is just a thought.” Over weeks of retreats (as seen at the 2025 Global Mindfulness Gathering), practitioners report an almost cinematic detachment—events stream by, stripped of ego’s usual special effects.

Milindapañha, recounting King Milinda’s probing questions, takes the metaphor further: a chariot isn’t any one part, but a convenient label for wheels, axle and all. Likewise, “self” dissolves into conditioned phenomena. This dismantling doesn’t leave a void of nihilism but cracks open a window to freedom—no more wrestling with a ghostly master.

Today’s neuroscience chatter around “the self” often mirrors anattā’s verdict: the brain constructs a narrative, not a permanent core. The resonance between ancient Pāli texts and modern studies adds fresh zest to a teaching that’s been going strong for over 2,500 years—still striking chords in retreat halls, apps and living rooms alike.