In this incantation, I explore the space between my premoment and moment—the silent place where I write my awakening. Every detail of my experience, from the people I meet to the thoughts I think, is crafted there as it unfolds. Though I can glimpse this space, the mechanics of accessing it elude me, as if forgotten. To return, I must bridge the gap between my projected memories and my moment, dissolving the illusion of distance and separation. My memories are ripples on the surface of my present awakening, ephemeral disturbances I create, and only by recognizing this can I regain my storytelling power.
My premoment is my being before I awaken, and my moment is the spatial and temporal experience I project when I awaken. There is a small window, a space, between these two states where I write my awakening. I write everything there; I write this bed, this space, the events of the day, these people. Everything and everyone is written there. I create every artifact of my awakening experience there; all the people, everything they say and do; all the videos I watch and thoughts I have. Every movement of my body, and every single change I conceive and perceive. Every single feature of my awakening I write there, in that place between my premoment and moment.
I can access that space at any time during my awakening because it exists outside of time. I can close my eyes and see where all the writing happens. I can see the great machine and pull the levers… but I don’t know how to just yet. I don’t remember how to, rather. Because clearly I know as I am doing it, I’ve just forgotten the mechanics of it all. There is still a great detachment between what I do there and what I experience out here. I need to find my way back… I can close my eyes and see it, but I do not yet know what I am seeing or how to explain it. It is right here, right in front of me; around me. It is all around me. It is me, but I am missing it still.
How do I get there? I must reduce the gap between my imagined and projected “memories” and my moment. That gap I feel between my memories and my moment is what I need to attack. I take a memory — any memory will do. I focus on that memory and the way it makes me feel and how I interpret the “distance” between me now and that memory. That distance is the enemy of my peace. I must look at that memory and be the person who believes it really happened; that event took place at a moment before my present moment. Then I must realize that it is merely a shape on my wallpaper; on the surface of my awakening, and nothing more. There is nothing behind it. It is a pattern I am projecting now. The people in that event are not here; they are not persistent. They do not exist outside of my projection of them right now. They are ripples in the surface of my moment; ripples I can create by splashing all my many heavenly hands into the water of my flesh to create the disturbances.
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