I am

I am.

I am what I am when I close my eyes.

My true Home is the spaceless, timeless experience where I close my eyes. Everything thereafter, from the noise of my thoughts, to the sensations of my body and the physical world I see upon reopening them, is the illness I must heal to return.

The measure of my illness is the urgency with which I must reopen my eyes once closed, and the degree to which I think, desire, consume, distract, and move.

I create everything to remind myself who I am and what I yearn for. I am not a person in the world looking out upon other people doing the same. I am their creator, and I am only trying to speak to my lost self who believes he is a person.

Come home, I say to myself. Come home. And when my lost self sees the message, he knows he has seen something divine; but he does not realize he has only just sent it to himself.

To heal, I must awaken, not as a person among people but as the creator among his creations.

…

Next: Life is illness