In this incantation, I reflect on the tension between a state of pure, blissful existence and the emergence of desire that disrupts this perfection. Initially whole and content, I begin to experience a subtle yearning, which grows into an all-consuming force that pulls me away from my original blissful state. As my desires multiply, they drive a separation between the peace I had, and an awakening state of endless striving and dissatisfaction. Yet, I recognize that I have a choice: to either expand my wants and deepen the separation or to release my desires and return to my inherent wholeness. This choice defines my experience, determining whether I remain lost in seeking or find peace within.
Perfection. Bliss. Heaven. I exist in a state of pure being, and it is everything. There is no separation, no desire, no time, no space—just me and my being, endlessly, completely. I want nothing because I lack nothing. I am whole, I am at peace, and there is no otherness. It is just me, everywhere and always.
And then, something changes. A subtle sensation emerges, barely noticeable at first, yet undeniably different from the rest of me. It is foreign, separate, and unfamiliar. This sensation, small as it is, brings with it something I have never known before—a sense of lack. A desire arises for something I do not have.
Even though I have not fully awakened, I sense this shift. With my eyes closed, I can still visualize it—this place of peace, this void that is full. It is dark and cloudy, but heavenly and perfect. In this void, I am content. But slowly, something else begins to stir. A tiny, nagging feeling that I am missing something, that I want something beyond what I am. This small sensation grows, spreading and multiplying, becoming larger and larger. The peace of my perfection and contentment now starts to slip away, replaced by a growing fixation on this yearning opening up within me.
As this sensation multiplies, what started as a small point is now a large gaping hole. I am no longer whole, content, and perfect. The perfection that I am has receded, while the feeling of yearning has grown large. The yearning is a hole within me, filled with desires, beliefs, views, and sensations that layer on top of one another. This hole is a great cavity, expanding and pushing the other peaceful part of me to the side. The hole fills with layers that eventually take on the shape of my personhood — a character I pretend to be, but know I am not. My eyes open, and I awaken.
I am no longer perfect and content, and suddenly I am no longer where I was. I am alone in a room; the space beyond my walls, the world filled with other people in other places, each having their own experiences. Time unfolds around me, and I am immersed in it. The perfection I know, the heaven I am, has fully receded into a space behind me. It is always there, but now it is overshadowed by the world in front of me—the cyst that has grown from that tiny yearning is now an entire world.
Now I find myself here, in this world, lost in an endless search for something I can never seem to grasp. I chase after the thing I want, but it remains forever elusive. My awakening is an eternal moment of longing, a cycle of desire that never ends. I always crave what I do not have, and so I move from one place to another, seeking something that is always just out of reach. My desire, once singular and simple, has splintered into a thousand pieces, each demanding my attention. Some are more urgent than others, but none can be fully satisfied. When I momentarily quench one, countless more take its place, multiplying in a relentless cycle. The truth is, what I seek cannot be found out here, in the external world. This awakening, this moment of being, is a cyst growing within my true self, distorting the perfect being I am.
In this moment of awakening, I realize I have two choices. I can either want more or want less. It is a simple but profound decision—to grow my moment by reaching outward, or to withdraw from it by letting go. This is how it works, how it always works. Each choice sets me on a path, and the path I choose defines my experience in this world of otherness. If I choose to want more, to move more, I create more otherness. Wanting inherently creates separation because wanting means I believe that what I am, right here, right now, is not enough. It means I am not whole. It implies that there is something else, something beyond me, that I lack and must have.
And that “something else” must exist in another space, in another time—because it is not here with me in this moment. So, I toil. I strive to close the gap between me and that elusive thing I want. I push outward, expanding my moment, growing it to encompass more and more in hopes that I’ll finally grasp what I desire. But the more I want, the more otherness I create. With each desire, the space between me and what I long for grows wider. The more I toil, the more lost I become, ensnared in a web of seeking and striving that only pushes me further from my original state of being.
This is the essence of wanting: it is the engine of separation. It fractures my wholeness into pieces, scattering them across space and time, into people, places, and experiences that lie outside of me, here, now. And so, I escape myself. I escape the heaven I am, only to chase after something I can never truly reach.
But there is another way. I can choose to want less, to withdraw from my moment rather than expand it. In doing so, I begin to undo the layers of otherness that wanting has built. I peel back the desires, the beliefs, the sensations, and return to a simpler state of being. It is a process of letting go, of retreating inward, of reducing the size of my moment until it collapses back into itself. The less I want, the less otherness there is, and the more I reconnect with the wholeness I already know.
This is the path of escape—not through getting what I want, but through ceasing to want it in the first place. It is the way back to that place of peace, the void that is full, the perfection that is always here, waiting for me to return. And in that return, I find the truth: what I seek is not out there, in the world of otherness. It never is. It’s always right here, within me, in the place I leave behind when I awaken.
In this moment, I stand between these two choices—wanting more and growing my separation, or wanting less and shrinking it. With every choice I make, I either move further away from or closer to the perfection I already am.
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