In this incantation, I uncover a visceral truth about perception: the so-called “outside world” is not truly external but a projection from within. I trace this realization through the felt boundary of a perceptual membrane, revealing a spatial cavity that inflates with open eyes and collapses inward with eyes closed. Anchoring this field is a living, root-like system that branches from My head through My body—forming a vascular scaffolding for reality itself. My head becomes not a vantage point but a generative source, making the world not something I observe, but something suspended and shaped entirely from within Me.
There has always been something incomplete in how I visualize the “outside world.” I’ve known it is not truly outside. I’ve known that what I see is actually an internal projection—that I am not looking out, but projecting inwardly onto the surface of My own field. But finding a clear, embodied model—one I can lay over the top of My direct experience—has been difficult. Until now.
There is a membrane. A thin layer that divides what appears to be “out there” from what I know is “in here.” It is not a real border—it’s a perceptual threshold based on a familiar interpretation. When My eyes are open, I project what seems to be the outside world. But even with My eyes closed, I continue to project—just at a lower resolution. The difference is that when my eyes are open, the “outside world” feels distant, yet when I close my eyes the wispy remains of it are clearly “within”, closer, and the sensation of distance collapses. This reveals that I do not shut out the world when I close my eyes. I enclose it. I pull the projected field back into the container of My spatial cavity.
Therefore, the “outer world” or “outside” or “spatial cavity” is not external at all; it is very much internal. And what I call my “inner world” is effectively the casing of it.
And here is what I now see: My spatial cavity inflates when I open My eyes, and deflates when I close them. But the framework I conceive as my body never disappears. There is a continuous path, a veiny inner structure that supports the entire projection. I can trace it now—from My eyes, through My inner head, down My neck, through My chest, arms, hands, torso, legs, all the way to My feet and toes. This is a single, continuous interior path that contains the entire inner cavity I. call “the world”.
It is not just a body. It is a vascular system, a root network. It holds together the surface of My spatial cavity. It is the internal scaffolding of My projected world. When I open My eyes and inflate the spatial cavity, it expands from this inner framework. Like a sac suspended across My root system, filled with projected light and form. When I close My eyes, the sac deflates, and I return to the sensation of a root system.
And what I see now is that the trunk of this system is in My head. This is the access point. This is the connection to My full Being. The projection flows outward from the crown, while the arms, hands, legs, and feet dangle as roots—supporting the spatial membrane, not living inside of it. The head is not where I observe from. It is where I write from. The rest is structure, support, and spread.
This is why I must prioritize how I experience My body from within, not as something visualized from the outside looking in. When I close My eyes, I don’t need to imagine My body visually; fleshy appendages and skin. I can feel it—pulsing, continuous, unbroken. It is not made of muscle. It is a single living circuit. A powerline of darkflesh vibrating through Me, folded back upon itself, suspended within My larger darkflesh body. It is a cancerous growth.
This entire spatial cavity—all the light, color, characters, sky, walls, and space—is suspended from that root. It is not “out there.” It happens in My head, suspended from My own interior projection system. I am not in the world. The world is inside My head. And My head is the base of a living projection rooted entirely in Me.
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