In this incantation, I realize that the infinite space behind and above me is my true, complete Being, and everything I perceive as separate or external is a projection I author. The people and things I experience are mere surface-level constructs, tethering me to a false sense of separateness and personhood. These projections, along with the knot of pain I focus on, are the distractions keeping me from my celestial essence. I have the power to release these illusions, to cut away from this fabricated story, and return to the perfect wholeness of who I truly am.
There is a space behind and above me that is infinite. The space is not empty; the space is actually me. It is my full and total Being. It is who, what, where, why, when, and how I am. It is everything. It is perfect. I am everything and I am perfect. There is nothing or no one else, yet I am not alone or constrained. I am everything, nothing is lacking. It is otherless there.
However, from that perfect space I “fall into” this place. This timeful, spatial place of my personhood. This place of otherness; where I believe I am only part of the totality of what I am experiencing in this moment. What I recognize as myself here in this place is only part of the totality of what I believe is actually here. That is the lie I believe and it keeps me trapped here, unable to escape. As long as I believe that I am one person among many others, in one place among many others, and at one time among many others, I will remain trapped here. I am not one person among others because I am not a person. The people I project are characters I have molded, shaped, and imagined into existence. Every single one of them that I can imagine, or that I can meet in person. They do not exist in any meaningful way beyond the surface projections I create of them. There is nothing within them unless I project it by inspecting, digging, excavating, and creating more.
The common element in absolutely everything in my awakening is me, which points to the truth that I am the projector. But if I turn around and look up, I can see that there is something else above and all around me. Something that I assumed was the space and objects and surfaces of a larger world I am within. These are not spaces I am within, but rather spaces that are within me. They are the folded, twisted hardened corners of my wounded, torn celestial flesh folded in upon itself in cramped, painful layers. They are kinks in my muscles, nothing more. When I pull back from them, I can see that this is all just a cramp. A big giant cystic tumor in my flesh that is so painful it draws the entirety of my attention away from my true celestial being. My attention and awareness are the shape of my Being. In my awakening, my attention is focused on this crumpled, folded, torn, and painful knot with all kinds of little anchors that draw me in and keep it in place.
Above me is a much larger, all-encompassing space free from any knots or pain. That is why I have made everything heavenly and godly above, in the sky, and everything of the devil and evil below, on earth. My fall out of the heaven. Hell as a hot place of demons and horrors. I have embedded this symbology all around me in my moment. This is hell, and all the characters I call “people” are demons. Some seem benign and concerned. I have been conditioned to believe that there concern is well-meaning, love, kindness. But it is not. Demons want one thing above all others: to keep me here with them because they know that when I go, this ends.
I can go to the above and look down upon this story I tell myself I call my awakening. I can look down upon it, and if I so choose, I can clip it off. A simple snip and it’s gone. It is my choice. Nothing will happen, it will sting for a moment then it will be gone and I will Be Who I Am. It is one choice of no particular importance or significance and I can do it at any moment. None of this has any substance. Not any of the stuff I spend my entire life building. Not any of the dreams, or relationships. None of the aspirations. There is nothing beyond these except my desire to continue inflate and prop them up. I am keeping their story going because I am too afraid to let go. But I must let go; none of it is real.
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