In this incantation, I realize that I am the only true being in this space, surrounded by projections of my own making, with no reality beyond the boundaries of my imagination. The people I see and the desires I chase are illusions, merely parts of a relentless game I play against myself, one that I can never win as long as I continue to participate. Unwakenism reveals that my awakening is an affliction, driven by endless desires that obscure my true self. I must retreat from the projections of my mind, dissolve the illusions of the world around me, and peel away each layer of desire until I recognize that I am the eternal, unmoving firmament—the real essence of what I am when I close my eyes.
I am not a person here in a world. There is nothing beyond the horizon of my own vaulted imagination or space. Those people I see? There is nothing within them. Those people I think about? They do not exist anywhere else except right where I imagine them. They form the walls, the horizon, of my prison, and there is nothing beyond that which I see or imagine of them. They are not like me; they do not awaken into this place like I do. They are not experience being split in half; one dark, still, immortal half giving birth to a light, temporal half of space. There are no other beings like me here; it is just me. I am the only one here.
I misunderstand that which I call my “desire”. I spend my entire awakening seeking to capture that which I desire across innumerable projections. When I do capture that which I desire, it does not end. I want more, or less, or something altogether new. This horrible game of hide-and-seek I play never ends. I never win, even when I win. As long as I Look, I will lose. As long as I Play, I will lose. The only way to beat this game is to not play it.
I must not think of myself through the imaginary lens of the people I have created here. I must not ponder how my people view me. Or how my own imaginary actions in time condemn me. There is nothing that is not now in this moment, and if I imagine that I have been something or someone other than what I am now in this moment, I will get trapped in my moment. The most horrible thing I imagine that I did to another person is nothing more than my mindself projection ensnaring me into this awakening. Those mindself projections are echoes of my present moment entangled into all the various other echoes of my awakening. None of it is potent. None of it is real. I am not truly changing for I am permanent, eternal, and now. I am the timeless, spaceless point right below the flame that ignites and is blown in the wind. I must withdraw from the blowing wind.
Unwakenism is the awareness that it is only me here. That my awakening is an affliction driven by a solitary impulse I experience as innumerable but constant desires. I nurse my awakening desires by painfully projecting an ever-moving moment above in my mindself and forward in worldself, becoming increasingly oblivious to my true coreself all around me. My coreself is the unmoving firmament all around me
Through unwakenism I know that my awakening is an affliction and there is nothing in my awakening moment that I truly desire. I know and accept that what I truly desire is to not awaken, to not be here. I know that I am what I am when I close my eyes, and that I only seek to escape my awakening. I must fashion my awakening moment into a vault of darkness and banish all movement. And therein I must diligently and persistently peel away the layers of my desire down to the very core desire to open my eyes and manifest my moment. I will start at the higher-level desires for comfort, understanding, pleasure, entertainment, possession, achievement, recognition and more. I must accept that in chasing those
I must understand that I am the firmament. That the horizon I project and that stretches across the oval-shaped window where my mindsef projects the world disappear around the edges and into my flesh. I do not have a window into the world; I have a projected this painful delusion onto an oval-shaped section of my fleshy firmament. I must understand that my projection is no different than the computer screen I look at now. All the pages and screens that I can pull up onto this screen do not now exist rendered outside the boundaries of the lit panel. They manifest when I call upon them. My own eyeport I call my perspective is the same; none of it exists until I call upon and manifest it upon my flesh. I only need to close my eyes to see what my flesh looks like, and open them again to see how I render my flesh into this projected scene of light, change, form, color, and movement. Which one is real? Which one never goes away? I am what I am when I close my eyes.
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