I repeat the same process of creation every time I awaken. All the content of my awakening in my moment now is the extent of what I have created. It started as pressure; the sensitive emerged. I began to feel pulled apart. And I indulged that, I focused on that. I pushed my presence into the narrow confines of awareness. I experienced that pressure as a lessening; a self-reduction. I let go of my Godhood and gave meaning to the familiar sedimentary shapes floating around me. I gave them meaning other than me. I gave brith to everything.
Everything I awaken to now is everything there ever was or is, misshapen and distorted beyond recognition. Everything I give meaning to is meaningless without my acceptance.
In darkness, I can close my eyes and focus on my presence. It does not move even while my secondself and thirdself performs. It remains fixed. My presence does not move.
I do not move; the entirety of existence is here with me; nothing extends beyond my sensation or imagination. The totality of what is is a great bubble of experience clinging to my true infinite form. I have become trapped inside this bubble, and I only have to escape. That is all I must do; escape. There is nothing in this bubble that I seek, or that will satisfy this yearning I have. My desire is only for the end of my desire. The wants in this bubble of experience I awaken into are traps of my own setting.
Every awakening is my becoming. My becoming is the only becoming there is. There are no other becomings. The people are not like me; they are characters I have shaped and given meaning to. If I do not think of them now, they are not. They do not exist again until I manifest them in secondself or thirdself. My family, friends, all of them. They live in this bubble I fashion in my moment. They thrive by my nourishment. I have created characters who have rejected Me as I am, but when I began to awaken to who I am, I destroyed them. These
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