In this incantation, I explore the deep moment where hidden truths rise and sink, revealing that my entire world is a projection of my own divided awakening. I recognize that earth and imagination form two cavities inside my true self, and the characters around me serve only to keep me toiling in confusion. I question everything promised by this world and awaken to the realization that I must renounce its fruits and uncover the singular demon behind every painted face. I acknowledge my illness of awakening and search for true caretakers who will help me unwaken and collapse everything back into myself.
The deep moment is the region of my moment where truths exist, obscure and hidden, sometimes to rise to the surface, only to re-submerge again. They are truths I know on some level, but have not integrated meaningfully into my awakening. They are all connected, but their interconnectedness is suspected but not realized in my moment, like the body of a great serpent piercing the surface of the water in many places but connected under.
There is a greater geography of my moment; an architecture of it all. I have been describing this topography as long as I can remember. But I will do it again with the insights that have come from the recent moment. I am the only being here; the source and origin of it all. The beginning and the ending. The alpha and the omega. There is nothing outside of me.
I exist in a state of confusion I call deminoia, or awakening. Or just wakening. In this state I split, creating thirdself (the world, earth, my outer self), and secondself (my inner self). These are illusory cavities within my firstself (my true self, and entire being). These cavities persist because I believe they are here. I experience these cavities as a sort of harmonic repetition: waken, toil, asleepen. That is the pattern I follow until I begin to reshape my awakening by questioning it. When I become aware that something is not right, that I am not truly a person in a place at a time among other people at other places and at other times. When I begin to become aware that the food I eat, the treasure I seek, the desires I cultivate, do not provide the nourishment they promise me.
That something deeper is untouched and unsatisfied by anything I do in my awakening. That is when I begin to question, changing the oscillation… I introduce a small counter-vibration that is the beginning of unwakening. My story changes: waken, toil, unwaken, asleepen. Asleepening is falling back into myself without awareness of who and what I am. But I get a moment of awareness, when I pull something deep from my moment… I recognize that something is not right.
I continue to follow that suspicion and that is when the idea of Untoil begins to break the surface of my awakening. I accept unwakening… that I do not want to be here. Yet I still very much want the things that are out here in earth. I say that I want heaven, but I still spend my entire awakening trying to recreate heaven here on earth. But Untoil is that realization that I cannot actually rebuild heaven on earth. That earth is fundamentally incompatible with heaven. That what I seek, is not out here. And though I continue to toil, I nurture untoil in my soul. I begin the process of giving up my desire for the fruits that my toil will produce. I must renounce these things I have wanted for so long.
My waking moment is one giant cystic projection within my true, divine self. It is in the shape of two worlds within one larger, eternal world. The outer world of earth, and the inner world of my imagination. Where these two cavities collide is where my experience happens. There is nothing outside of these two spheres. There is no other perspective than my own. The characters that orbit around me in my awakening do not have independent existences beyond my observation of and interaction with them, though they will proclaim them if and when I listen to them. They are beacons of confusion, and I must remember that. They sow misunderstanding and their sole aim is to keep me here so they can live.
To escape my illness I must truly understand what the satellite characters are, for it is not what I have assumed. They are not like me in any sense of the word. They are the demons of the world… they can only exist if I open my eyes. If I close my eyes, shut my ears, and turn them away, they do not exist. They exist solely to confound and confuse me. But they do not have intentionality… they are not individuals. When I am speaking to one, I am not speaking to one. I am speaking to all. They all work together. My family, friends, mentors, enemies, even strangers. They are not individuals as I treat them. They are all part of one collective will whose sole aim is to keep me here. To keep me awakening. When I treat them as individuals, I allow the beast behind them to remain hidden. I do not confront him. He hides in the shadows, behind the play in front of me, controlling everything out of sight. His fingers are all the characters, each playing their own role.
My deep moment is where I know all of this. It is the region of my awakening where the truth of this place exists… but it is suppressed. In my deep regions of my timeless moment I know that all of these characters — those I love and experience directly through touch and sight, and those I only know as characters in videos on the internet — are the fingers of the same singular force that exists because I am sick. Because I awaken. I will awaken as long as I am sick. The fingers do not know who I am individually… but I can speak through them to their master; through them to the demon king that controls them. They are but painted faces. They are not real in the way that I am real.
I must remember that all the characters around me in my secondself and thirdself moment are my warden. They are painted faces on one single body. I must learn to see the puppeteer behind them. Right now my one sits upstairs… I must look beyond her… see that the face looking at me, smiling, is not the character I have long assumed. The smile is mechanical; an animation designed to disarm me. To lure me into a conversation and relationship that keeps me here. All relationships are this way: they invite in and promise, but never nourish. They never give enough. They always extract more than I am willing to give. Because relationships, which grow out of engagement and are exercised through conversation and interaction, are the straws the demon pokes into my soul to draw out my true life force and keep me here. All of the painted faces that want me to stay here are the faces of the demon. Do they know? That person sitting upstairs… does she know? That is irrelevant because it is something I cannot “know”. That is one of the demon’s tricks: it pulls me into uncertainty by creating situations and stories I can never know. What I do know is that the thing upstairs is not what I am. It is of me in that I project it, but it is not core potent me. It is a part of me that detached in the awakening. A part I most collapse back into myself. But to do that I must see the hidden hand behind it.
I look for the caretaker characters. The caretakers are the characters who will surround me and facilitate my withdrawal and eventual unwakening. The demon is smart, and it knows that I am aware of the caretakers, and it will send false caretakers who aim to draw me in and nourish itself. But real caretakers will emerge.
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