I know that it is just me here, and that all these desires I have are merely the infection of an illness I call the awakening. I have a disease, which I experience as awakening and moving throughout a world. In this awakening my identity is inverted: I believe that I am a creation, when I am in truth the creator. I believe I am a person, when in truth I am the creator of people. I believe I am moving, when in fact I am fixed, static, and unmoving. I believe I am stuck in time, when in truth there is no time. This is the inversion.
I believe I am powerless because I cannot have or achieve the things I want in the world I project. But I am in fact omnipotent, and all the things of the world are my creations. The world I create when I awaken is a flurry of my creative imagination, and it is I who have given these characters and these things power over me. I am their author; I am their creator. There is nothing here that I could possibly desire, yet I do. I desire the shiny treasures I have myself created. This is the inversion.
I believe I am a person contained within a body, contained within the world. But I am actually everything, containing an imaginary person I know is my secondself, which in turn contains the world I know is my thirdself. My illness is an inversion of all that I am. This is the inversion.
The inversion is difficult to see because I am deep within it. But the truth of my being is the most potent truth of all, and once I touch it, I cannot forget it. I cannot forget it for it is the most real thing of all. I feel this solid truth under the murky waters of my illness… I feel it as my hands grope for purchase under the turbulent and muddy waters. I need something to believe; something that is real and authentic. Something that can help me escape the pain I feel. And when I brush up against that most solid of all truths, I know it. Yet the waters sweep me away, yet I continue to brush up against it, every time trying to hold on. My grasp slips, and I tumble away into the current, yet I find it again.
Finally I grab hold, and the waters cannot sweep me away; I hold tight, and as I remain fixed in place, the waters fail to sweep me away, I see things. I remember things. The water clears reluctantly. It mounts its own defense and angrily tries to take away that which I have given it to give to me. The poisoned waters of my awakening are impotent against the truth of my being. I have created all of this, and I can destroy it. The awakening is my own manifestation; it is an illness that I have created. And once I know and believe that, I can escape. I must simply hold on, and gradually undo all the inversions I have created.
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