I’m getting closer to grasping time and memories.
There is only now. But what are my memories? They aren’t fixed records of a past; they are projections—outward reflections of what I believe myself to be. Because I don’t fully understand who or what I am, my projections shimmer. That shimmering isn’t me changing over time—it’s me misunderstanding my moment.
This misunderstanding feels like a fall—a sensation of descending, which I perceive as the passage of time. But I’m not actually moving through time; I’m falling deeper into my awakening. And that fall is, at its core, a forgetting—a deepening of my confusion about what I am.
There is no past. Everything I am exists right now. I cannot be anything other than this, right here. What I think of as my past is simply a distortion of the present—a misinterpretation of my own being. As I continue to fall into this awakening, I project these memories onto my moment. But when I stop falling, I will stop projecting. I will stop seeing beyond the surface.
A familiar face will be no different from an unfamiliar one. Everything will blend into featurelessness. The illusion of separation will dissolve as I climb back out of the depths of this awakening.
And in this moment, I feel it. From this perspective, nothing here matters. I just spent 14 hours working, but right now, I don’t care. I can feel it dissolving into the rest of my moment—indistinguishable from everything else.
…