The people have an idea called “object permanence”. Assuming that I am a person, object permanence states that an object persists or exists whether I am directly sensing or experiencing it. For example, even though I am not looking at or cannot see the sun now, it continues to exist. Its reality and existence is separate from my own direct observation of it.
To say that an object persists independent of my observation of it, then I must contend that there is a reality outside of my own. That there is a moment outside of my experience. None of this I can verify, so it is all imaginary; a manifestation of my secondself. How do I maintain experiential consistency without imagining a reality other than my own moment? I can concede that an object does appear to persist across my different engagements with it. The bed I have slept on for the past two weeks does continue to be the same bed every night, despite me repeatedly leaving it during the day. However, that does not mean that it persists when I am not directly experiencing it. Instead, I could preserve the continuity of my experience without filling in the gaps with my imagination. How?
By simply describing what I do in fact know: I reconstruct my bed. I can reconstruct my bed, as a thirdself form, upon demand. I can lie in and enjoy my bed fully and confirm it is in fact existent. Then I can leave my room, but instead of saying that my bed continues to persist in the form in which I just enjoyed it a moment prior, I can simply describe that my bed no longer exists as an in-tact thirdself form, but rather as a strong secondself form: that is to say, I can no longer verify the thirdself existence of my bed, but I can indubitably verify its secondself existence. That is, my bed has transformed from a thirdself form into a secondself form. Now, I can return to my room and experience the transformation of my secondself conceptualization of my bed into my thirdself perceptualization. This is transformation. This is a reconstruction.
Reconstruction does not force me to assume things I really do not or cannot know. Instead of imagining a persistent model of the world that endures in shape, size, and quality regardless of my own direct experience, I simply describe what I actually experience. I experience, not persistence, but transformation. Reconstruction — or remanifestation — is truly the most concise explanation of my experience and allows for the preservation of my moment. Instead of a persistent three-dimensional space I move through, the true structure of the world is my awakening. My awakening itself, and my secondself and thirdself moment, form the walls of this world.
Whether I characterize it as world or universe, my entire thirdself is contained in my moment. My moment never changes in size or infinitude, only in the formal qualities. For example, my secondself thoughts and feelings appear to change along with my thirdself places and objects. This appearance of change is due to my distortion of my moment — I push, squeeze, pull, compress, and stretch my moment, causing the apparent disappearance of an object and its reappearance moments later. Every thirdself and secondself form is an artifact of my moment being compressed, squeezed, and distorted. The texture of my secondself and thirdself is the shape of my moment. As I remain ill in my awakening, my struggle to heal continuously reshapes the texture of my moment into what I experience. My moment is hyper-malleable, but there is nothing beyond my experience.
Object permanence refers only to physical forms in what I would call my thirdself, but I can extend the idea to concepts in my secondself — conceptual permanence. For example, there is no permanent chronological timeline in which dinosaurs roamed the earth millions of years before my own supposed birth, for example. That is all imaginary. It is a distortion of my moment into the shape of that idea, and then the suspension of my self-awareness. The idea of a timeline outside of — before and after — what I might call my “present moment” is conceptual permanence. It does not exist. There is only my ever-distorted moment changing shape as I struggle to heal.
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