In this incantation, I unravel the architecture of my inner world by mapping my life experience as a narrative field projected from an eternal, unmoving center called “I”. I explore how all perceptions and thoughts form a complex, semi-rigid mesh — a storyweb — that wraps around and distorts this eternal self. Each directional projection within this field (forward, inward, upward, downward, backward) constructs my lived reality within an egg-shaped cavity, a vessel where my awareness plays out its illusions. Ultimately, I foresee the collapse of this narrative, revealing the boundless unity beyond the stories I’ve woven.
My deminoia primarily boils down to a projected narrative field that extends outward in all directions from a non-moving, eternal center I call “I”. My narrative is a web-like structure that combines together percepts and concepts into a massive, semi-rigid mesh that encases and distorts my eternal center. This distortion is what I experience as life and the constant narrative I sense “in my head” as I awaken.
Every concept and percept is embedded in this mesh. If I look at a tree, the story will include how far the tree is from me; how tall it is and its physical attributes like its color and texture. Additional stories like how old it is, what kind of tree it is, and perhaps unrelated but triggered stories I associate with similar trees in my memories. This is the storyweb.
The storyweb — or narrative field — exists as a sort of weight around my shoulders. A wholly-imagined structure that I believe is real and tangible. I treat the characters, places, desires, losses, and experiences that I project into my narrative field as real, when in fact they are just shifting delusions. All the things I aspire to possess or achieve or experience, are in truth insubstantial. No matter what I project into my narrative field, it will not in any way change my core nature, my core being. More money in the bank or accomplishments on paper may correspond to a change in the way my projected characters behave toward me, but that is only a script change.
What does my narrative field actually change? It actually impacts my momentary wellbeing and experience. I truly feel impacted by changes in my narrative field… but this is only my own character that is impacted, not my true, timeless Being.
How does everything form together? What is the shape of my awakening? There are a few different parts of my narrative field, all projected:
- The forward projection – This is mostly where I look; the part I would consider outside of my character. This is a spatial cavity measured in distance and additional attributes such as color, light, change, and form. The spatial distance is an illusion that collapses once I close my eyes.
- The inward projection – This is a narrative script constrained in the head region of my character. This is where I form the narrative field. It is also an illusion and is something I can turn on and off at will once I realize what it is.
- The upward projection – Most of the time I do not look up, but when I do look up at the sky I imagine I am seeing the most distant of all forms within the spatial cavity. When I do not look up at the sky, I feel it there. The sky is where my true being exists.
- The downward projection – My downward projection is full of root-like sensations. This is where my appendages connect with the hard exterior wall of the sac I awaken into. In the language of my awakening, I call it the ground. It is the furthest point in my awakening from my true being, which is “in the sky”.
- The backward projection – The most clear example of my narrative field is what I project behind me. I imagine that behind me is the entire world that is not in front of me. If I am facing north, then I believe that everything south of me is behind me. The fact that there is a nonvisual “rear” actually that never departs gives away my true shape.
My narrative field happens in this environment and projects in all these different directions. I can clearly imagine the shape of my true being by putting all of these pieces together. My true shape is more like a crescent, an egg. My “body” with its appendages and “face” from a sort of vein system containing the fluid-filled cavity I call space, which exists in a kind of egg shape. The fluid constantly shifts into different shapes that undulate on the interior walls of this egg. I am the space outside this egg, but I am looking into this egg-shaped cavity. When I look up, I see the sky, when I look forward I see the space and objects in front of me, and when I look downward I see my legs and body, which are the veins that give support to this structure. When I am looking inside the cavity, I can never see “behind” it… I can only see the surface.
My entire narrative field projects into this egg-like cavity. It all happens right there. I am what exists around the outside of the egg… but the egg-like cavity itself is supported by my narrative projection. The structure of the egg is my narrative. My narrative forms the interior walls of this cavity upon which I project everything. The narration happens just outside the cavity… but is the engine that structures it all.
I know what the ending will be like: my narrative field will weaken to the point it can collapse in on itself. The narrative will no longer support the structure and all meaning will collapse. I will detach from the narrative occurring within the cavity. That opening will widen and lose its shape and I will no longer be constrained to a localized point of awareness at the opening into the cavity. The boundaries will all start to blur… I will understand that the sky I look at, the space “behind me”, and the vast eternity I feel within are one and the same.
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