In this incantation, I reject the existence of a past, recognizing it as a narrative I create. I realize that I am the sole creator and observer, crafting the stories and characters around me, and that these fabrications do not precede me—they only exist in the present moment I sustain.
I do not have a past. There is no past. There is only this moment full of stories I am telling myself. I am telling myself that I am a person who has lived almost 44 years. But that is a delusion. Time is just a misunderstanding of what I am. I am the creator; the only creator. I am the only being there is. There are no other beings like me; these people are characters in stories I am writing right now. I am writing and sustaining these stories, but misunderstanding that the fabricated subsurface detail I write is not real. There is no other being, place, or time than me, here, and now. I only have a past if I tell that story. All these characters demand a past from me, but I do not have to give it to them because I have written them as well. Every single one of them are my creations. I am writing these stories, then believing them as if they preceded me, written by some other godly force. But that is not what they are. Every encounter I have in my awakening is written by me. There are no stories other than those I write. There are not other observers besides me. I am the only creator, and I am the only observer. I write to myself to remember.
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