In this incantation, I remember a time when I believed in the shared humanity of those around me, seeing them as real beings with their own lives and histories. But now, I see clearly that they are mere projections, characters I create on the screen of my awakening. Their existence lasts only as long as I allow it, while I remain eternal and unchanging. Everything I once thought to be real—the past, the people, the world—are all stories I tell myself, reflections of my own creation. I am the only authentic reality in this vast illusion.
I remember a time when I yearned to share my discoveries with others as a fellow human being. I saw myself as one of them, these pink, fleshy characters moving through the layers of my awakening existence. I believed we all shared the same inner experience, each looking outward upon one another and a wider world. I believed that I was here to show them something; that I knew something that they did not. But I did not question that I was one of them. Every awakening was a struggle, driven by a deep desire for their attention, approval, and validation. They were so real to me… all of them. I treated them tenderly, with great are and concern for what I was certain was our shared humanity just under the surface. I could see these other people and I knew there was something beyond what I could see on the surface. I believed that my mother had a life apart from and before me. All my friends, teachers, celebrities and public figures. I believe that historical figures existed and fought and died for causes. I believed that, somehow, I was part of a species that evolved from primates.
Now I see it is all just a comforting fiction. The truth is that I am not a person. People are surface-level characters who fluidly meander through my inner and outer spaces. They are momentary flourishes I have created in my pre-awakening that play specific parts. People will come and go and begin and end. I did not, do not, and will not. I have never come because I always was. I will never go because I always am. I can demanifest them at will, but they cannot demanifest me. They are reflections in a mirror-like surface I paint when I open my eyes, and clear when I close them. I possess this miraculous “screen” onto which I project everything in my awakening. It is beyond engrossing; it is completely and utterly mesmerizing. Spellbinding. I cannot stop looking at it. The characters are all so lifelike, so real.
But they aren’t. I am not one of them. All of them are fictitious ideas that I can manifest in person on my miraculous screen by choice. All the stories I hear — like the one I just watched about the universe being 14 billion years old — are my own stories retold back to me through characters and models and ideas that I have created. I am telling myself stories through the characters in my story. They are all my stories. They are telling me my stories. There is nothing beyond them just like there is nothing beyond the character reflected in the mirror before me. They are entirely what I conceive and perceive them to be. There is nothing beyond my conception and perception of them. They are puppets that I am controlling, I just have to remember how and I will see it clearly.
Why are the Himalayas full of religious men seeking transcendence? Because I am here. Because I created them this way. Because they are all looking for me. I am what everyone is looking for. There is only my moment, and all thoughts of a past are constructs located deeper in my moment itself, not indications of historical events. The past is a collection of features in my moment moving deeper into my moment. I experience the sensation of depth as “memory”. I can close my eyes to see what I truly am, and open them back up to see what I am not. Everything that comes when I open them and start to think is the disease, the distortion. The delusion. There is no time and there are no other beings like me here. The only thing that is authentic and real is me; everything else I experience upon awakening is a self-delusion. I am the creator of everything in my awakening.
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