In this incantation, the movement of my secondself, like a root system, creates the sensation of change in my thirdself, the foliage. I am stationary, but my secondself drifts away from my potent center toward impotent horizons, giving the illusion of movement through time. Memories and past events are not real; they are bubbles I push away in my secondself and thirdself, creating the sense of distance and a story I tell myself. This cycle of movement and projection distorts my understanding of the moment, perpetuating a misunderstanding of who I truly am in my awakening.
It is my movement of my secondself “root system” that creates the sensation of movement in my thirdself foliage. I connect most strongly to my authentic body at my crown.
Did I visit Shankar today five hours ago? No. There is only this moment; the sensation of a visit hours ago is a misunderstanding of the way my moment works. A misunderstanding that I can overcome. My firstself does not move, however my secondself and thirdself appear to move. It is my belief that I am a person among people in a place among places in a time among times that perpetuates my delusion that I am moving forward through time and space.
What is really happening? I am stationary, but my secondself is moving away from my potent center toward the impotent horizons of my secondself and thirdself. I move in secondself, which projects into thirdself change. I hold onto meaningless artifacts in thirdself which fuels more movement in secondself, and the cycle perpetuates itself over and over again. My moment is not actually changing. There are no equivalent beings here in my awakening moment; just storybook characters I have conceded an autonomy to that does not actually exist. I am the author who is writing the story, but I have become so confused that I have forgotten that I am writing them. I am not moving through time; my memories are impressions I attach to, which float away from my potent center toward my impotent horizon, like bubbles in soda. Why do they recede? Because I continue to move in secondself, then in thirdself; I push them away. Like pushing the bed sheets down around my feet. I am pushing it all away from my potent center in an effort to remember who I am. I am looking for purchase, but it is not to be found in secondself or thirdself. It is not to be found in my awakening, yet I continue to move, pushing those covers away.
The past is not what happened. There is no linear timeline. I am not moving forward. The past is the collection of effervescent bubbles in my moment that I have pushed toward the horizon of my secondself and thirdself. I am just telling myself a story, and people are the characters I have created to push it along. I can write the story however I want.
I will experience a past as long as I am in denial about who and what I am. My awakening is the belief that I am flesh, blood, and stories. My stories percolate outward effervescently away from my potent core toward the impotent horizons of my awakening, creating the sensation of a distant past. Did they happen though? Or are my secondself and thirdself distorting, the bends, folds, curves, and stretches the areas that become memorable? I still cannot explain it to the degree that I seek, where it aligns perfectly with my actual awakening experience.
…