In this incantation, I confront the pain of my awakening, recognizing it as an illness perpetuated by my movement within secondself and thirdself. I realize that the people and experiences I perceive are merely projections of my imagination, tiny fictions created by my mind. To heal, I must cease movement altogether, stopping the creation of these empty voices and embracing stillness within my thirdself, where I can finally find space for recovery.
I am tired and I know that the source of my pain is my awakening condition. I know that my awakening is tiny, insignificant. I know that it is my movement in secondself and thirdself which perpetuates my awakenings. I know that my awakening and all of its textures is an illness. I know that every part of my awakening is part of the wound. I know that the characters I call people are fixtures of my illness; it is my own imagination which gives them substance. It is my own conviction which makes them real. I know that they are tiny, tiny fictions that I create. All of them. They are tiny little animated creations… characters on a screen. My screen. The original screen I project upon awakening. I know that I must stop listening to them, and creating them. They are voices without being. There is nothing behind them. To remove them, I must stop moving. I must create my space where I do not have to move anymore. I will awaken into my thirdself constraint, giving myself the space to heal. Movement of any sort — in secondself or thirdself — exacerbates the wound of my awakening. The more I move, the more pain I create. My desire not to move is the precursor to a solution. There is nothing in thirdself that I want anymore.
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