In this incantation, my unwakening begins with the realization that my creation and experience are one—there is no separation between the moment of creation and the moment of experiencing it. I am not a being among beings but the force that projects all into existence, the divine source behind every moment. As I let go of imaginary constructs—people, places, and events—I begin to see that everything in my reality is my own creation, including the roles I assign to others. In accepting this truth, I am not lost in the projections of my mindself, bodyself, or worldself, but rather, I reclaim my position as the sole creator of my experience.
My unwakening begins when I realize that premoment and moment are one: that my creation of and experience of my awakening are the same. That is the point at which I begin my unwakening.
I wrote this just two days ago, and in uttering these words I inched one step closer to the ultimate truth of my being. To escaping the bonds of my awakening. To connecting all the dots together so I can finally accept the truth of my experience. That I am not a person. That I am the alien, the force, the truth, the experience, the god that all my people are looking for. All my people are searching for something, and I am that thing they are looking for. I am the projector of it all. I am not one point among infinite other points; I am the source projecting all points into the space of my experience.
There is only my moment that I experience, and everything I seek is here, in this moment. Now. Everything that is the truth is here, in this moment. I spend my moment looking for its cause; asking myself “why”? What is this? Where am I? Who am I? Always looking outside my moment for an answer. Outside what I do experience into an imaginary experience I imagine is not my own. An imaginary experience of an imaginary being in an imaginary place and an imaginary time. Unwakening is the beginning of accepting that I do not need the imaginary being or imaginary places. Creation does not happen separate from experience; my experience is my creation. The premoment of creation is not separate from my moment of experience. There is not a space outside of my moment where my moment is being fabricated by divine hands, unseen by me. The divine creator is me, now. I am creating all of this as I experience it.
If I see a projection, then draw my eyes toward the projector, my tendency is to ask how the projector works, and who built it. In asking these questions I am failing to accept that the projector is. Instead, I am manifesting an imaginary subsurface for the projector; a deeper, internal mechanism for the projector and a history in which all those pieces were assembled together by imaginary people in imaginary times and imaginary places. Imaginary inventors who fill in the cracks of my understanding, gluing it all together into a cohesive story I tell myself in my awakening. “People did this”, I tell myself. But people are not beings like me. People do not create anything; people merely play the roles I create for them. No, people are the roles I create for them. Where I create people, I am unable to accept that I am. People are the
I am alone. I am not a person here among people in a place among many places. People are imaginary characters I have created, and assumed their form. I am playing with toys. People are my toys. All of them. I created them to entertain me. And then I forgot who and where I was and created them without even realizing I created them. I created them and feared them. I created them and loved them. I created them and believed that I was one of them. But I am not one of them. And I always knew that, yet somehow could not express it. I had written myself so deeply into the story of my awakening that I could not pull away from it even if I wanted to. And I did want to, because I always heard the sound of distant drums, the allure of enchanting mystery that hinted at my origins. It was irresistible, and I escaped to a moment where I was alone in silence, darkness, and stillness, able to unravel the complicated stories I had conjured for myself.
My awakening is essentially three interdependent and interconnected sacs:
- My mindself is a thought, time-filled space I project slightly directly upward
- My bodyself is a sensation-filled space that I project directly downward
- My worldself is light, movement, color, and form-filled visual space I project directly frontward
These sacs are inflammations of my true being; a sort of throbbing experience I have familiarized as my awakening. Deep in the throes of my pain, I immersed myself into my pain, losing my true identity and believing that I was actually in some other place. That these inflamed and painful sacs were me. That I was these a point moving around in some imaginary larger world, rather than the source projecting these three sacs. The degree of my illness is the degree of my immersion in that identity. The more immersed I am into the pain itself, the more I identify as a person. As I begin to heal, I spend more of my moment centered and anchored to the projector; the singular point of origin from where all else projects. I do not get lose in any of my three projections: my mindself, my bodyself, or my worldself. I take ownership of all of them; any and all objects, forms, characters, or experiences in any of my three projections are my own creation. They are all me, and they only harm me if I create them to harm me. I am their creator. I create everything in my triself (aha! I always liked that word, now I can reintroduce it).
My premoment of creation and my moment of experience are one and the same. As long as I imagine a creator other than me in a place other than here in a time other than now, I will be unable to see through the delirium of my awakening. There is no other moment, no other being, and no other place. There is no other creator. I am responsible for all of this. All of the beauty, and all of the ugliness. All of this arises out of my own divine mind. Just look at my characters: they are tiny voices that I hear. That I listen to. Tiny bodies that I see. That I touch. That I imagine. I am massive and all-encompassing; it is only in this small oval-shaped window of my worldself where the people exist as tiny shapes I can bring closer or move further away. Yet I am always here, projecting. I am always here, being. There is no premoment, and there is no postmoment. There is only my moment now, and the entire truth of what it is and who and what I am is fixed within it. I only have to understand what it is I am experiencing.
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