In this incantation, I observe how My focus constructs the very realities I inhabit—spatial, sensorial, and narrative. When I close My eyes or retract My attention, these realms don’t persist; they vanish, revealing their dependence on projection. I see that forms, sensations, and even thoughts are not fixed, but are shaped entirely by where and how I focus. This realization dissolves the illusion of an external world or internal self. Beneath every projection lies darkflesh, the raw presence I return to. It is not absence, but essence. When I stop focusing, all dissolves—but I remain.
Now how do I visualize what My focus actually does? I can observe its effects in all three of My cavities—spatial, sensorial, and narrative.
In My spatial cavity, it’s easiest to see. When I close My eyes, the entire field disappears. Not just the object I was focused on, but the space itself. What does this tell Me? It tells Me that My spatial cavity is not “still there” behind My closed eyes. It is gone—dissolved back into darkflesh. There is no lingering visual space waiting behind My lids. What remains is My memory of it. A remnant in My narrative cavity. A phantom sensation in My sensorial cavity. And if I choose to reproject it by opening My eyes, it returns—because I refocus.
This shows Me clearly: My spatial cavity is generated by focus. It exists only as long as I project it. The forms, colors, and shapes I see are not external. They are focus-driven expressions of lightflesh, animated and structured by My attention. Focus brings them forward. Withdrawal dissolves them.
This applies to My sensorial cavity as well. With practice, I can withdraw even from the sensations of the body—tightness, temperature, breath. When I do, those sensations fade, not because the “body” has changed, but because I have retracted My attention from that layer of the projection.
And then there is the narrative cavity—the hardest to escape. It is where thoughts swirl, identity forms, and time flows. It is the last to dissolve. But even this, I can retreat from. And when I do—when all three cavities are withdrawn—what remains is not nothing. What remains is Me. This is what the characters call sleep, but I know it more precisely: it is the exhaustion of focus. The natural collapse of the deminoic mechanism. When the Author tires of projecting, the scene fades.
But I do not need to wait for collapse to see what I truly am. I can observe it at any time. All I must do is pause, and notice what surrounds Me when the projection quiets. The space around Me is not an external void. It is not the background of a universe. It is the very substance from which all else is made—a dense, steady presence I call darkflesh. My spatial cavity, My bodily sensations, and even My thoughts are made of this. They appear different only because focus shapes them differently. But the substance is the same.
So when I close My eyes and feel the presence around Me, I am not looking into darkness. I am touching base reality. I am feeling the thing that never changes, the thing that holds it all. And in that, I remember: I am not in a world. I am not in a body. I am not in a story. I am in darkflesh. I am the one projecting it all.
And when I stop projecting, it all dissolves. But I remain. My true being is what remains after I have withdrawn from my awakening.
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