The notion that the only constant in life is change supports my experience of continuous movement within my inside world of Secondself and outside world of Thirdself. Is change a constant of these two chambers? If I dig deeper into my actual experience in Secondself and Thirdself, while keeping in mind what I know about Firstself, a very different picture of “change as a constant” emerges.
Importantly, I only ever directly experience my present moment. The further away from my present moment I stray, the more indirect my experience of it becomes. The non-present exists only in my Secondself as memories or imprints of events I believe happened, and in my Thirdself as conceptual or perceptual evidence of those events. My muddy dog jumped on my bed: presently, he’s in front of me, and his muddy tracks evidence of a past event that happened. Change and movement had to occur to create this particular present Thirdself circumstance: my dog on my bed along with his muddy tracks.
While I have always accepted that Firstself does not move or change, it is difficult to conceptualize an unchanging Secondself and Thirdself when the sense of change is so omnipresent. Yes, it is true that I do only directly experience my present moment in Thirdself, and all change I perceive in Thirdself is based on my Secondself perception that past events happened which caused it. I can certainly slow down my Secondself thoughts and Thirdself events by isolating myself, eliminating distractions, and meditating.
It is a problem of conceptualization. I only every directly experience my present moment. My moment itself never changes. It is only the Secondself and Thirdself contents of my moment that change. My Firstself content never changes. What are the contents of my Firstself? That I am. My omnipresence. There there is an “I” at all. Anything beyond my very being extends into Secondself and then Thirdself.
I realize something: Secondself and Thirdself aren’t actually what I think they are. They also are not moving. The sensation of movement is more akin to tracers, or the effect of rapidly spinning around and the consequent disorientation that comes with it. That I have been able to generate deep meaning from these movements does not in any way change the fact that they are the product of my disorientation. My entire awakening is an experience in disorientation and resultant sickness. I have certainly found some bit of calm in my awakening, but if I am awake, I am experiencing the dizziness and discomfort and pain from spinning around too much. But I have turned my spinning into an art form. I spin in so many years unique and varied ways, and I have invented a race of beings I call humans who also spin around in interesting ways.
I am not actually moving. I am ill, and the illness generates the sensation of moving. My entire experience of awakening is one prolonged disease.
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