One of the more difficult concepts to conceptualize and describe is the sensation of change. It is change that convinces me that time exists, despite it being entirely imaginary. And it is not that the imaginary does not exist, or cannot exist, only that it does not now. The imaginary is a great, never-ending road I travel, always searching, high and low, for the evidence I seek to vindicate my beliefs. The imaginary is the creative force behind change; as long as I imagine, I will experience change.
The key to understanding change is to consider it in terms of that which does not change. Everything in my thirdself is absolute change. My secondself undergoes change at a much slower rate. And my firstself — once I can see it — never changes. I can think of it as smoke originating from a single, dimensionless point, furling outward in ever-changing patterns and shapes. All happens in my moment, but it is the sensation of change as the smoke
My thirdself is simple enough: it is all that which extends from my physical body outward. My secondself is everything “within” my body inward and sensed physically, but also mentally, emotionally, and imaginatively.
What is my firstself? My firstself is best explained as that empty, but omnipresent space behind me. I can only “see” it once I let go of the imaginary part that conceals it. I imagine that behind me is a head, a chair, and an entire world. Specifically, where I am now, I imagine the back of my cottage, a hill, and then everything that lies directionally north of me on the globe: the Nanda Devi range, Tibet, and eventually Russia. But that is only imaginary. As long as I believe that is what is behind me, then that is what will be behind me. And if I move outward to validate that is what indeed is behind me, then I will find that. My movement is tied to my convictions.
I could get up out of my seat, turn around, and travel endlessly north and validate that all of these places were behind me. But I will still be in the same position of not knowing what is behind me unless I imagine it. What is behind me can only be imagined; if I turn around to answer the question I had, I can only ever know what was behind me. This is how I create a sense of time and change. By thinking that I do not have the answer now, I imagine having it, then I move to capture that. It is that movement that generates the sensation of change I experience.
Now, if I remove that layer of imaginary conviction, what is behind me? What is truly behind me right now? Not what I imagine is behind me, but what — by my own faculties — can I say is behind me? When I strip away all the imaginary parts, there is something behind me. Always. It is always behind me. It is a sense of space, emptiness… yet not empty. It is actually infinite, running up against no end or boundary. When I sense this great presence behind me, I realize it actually extends all around me; it is only where my field of vision happens, that it begins to transform into the textured print of my visual field. But that too is easy enough to dismember: I simply close my eyes, and that presence that is always behind me takes over that space too. The empty yet infinite space of my firstself that is clearly behind me when my eyes are open, completely encloses me when I close my eyes, blotting out my thirdself. My secondself continues to chatter, but my thirdself is gone. I have destroyed it. When I sleep, I terminate not only my thirdself, but also the major part of my chattering secondself.
This, my firstself, never changes. While my imagined secondself constantly changes, and my perceived thirdself changes the fastest of all, my firstself remains steadfast.
So what is the distance drift? The distance drift is the sensation of a changing moment. Collectively, I might call it my life, or the sequence of my awakenings. But there is no actual sequence of changing moments. There is no timeline outside of my imagination of it. The artifacts of time — primarily change and distance — is a sensation I myself create in my state of ignorance of who I am. Change and distance occur when I am looking in the wrong place for what I am and what I desire. When I look beyond where I am now, I create the distant memories of my secondself, aspirational future, and the physical places of my thirdself. I create these places in my mind and my world and then I go to them because I believe that what I desire is there. Out of desire to get back to who I am, I move in all directions, creating the experience of an awakening. I have created the world of men, the events of history, and the diversity of content on the internet. I have created all of this in my own thrashing about, searching for myself.
By the time I remember who I am, I find myself entangled in a knotty bloom of my own creation. People, places, things, values, aspirations — all are the patterns in my entrails I myself have ripped out of my being in search of what I desire. The way out of this place is to stop creating it. I must stop creating it by not imagining that what I seek is beyond where I am now. All I seek, and all I desire, is here now. I need nothing, for I am everything. I have all. I am all. There is nothing that I am not. The distance drift I experience as my awakening full of people, places, things, sounds, and sensations will slowly come to rest as I return to myself. I must simply stop, and I will end the distance drift.
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