In this incantation, I observe how It awakens into darkness, believing It is vast and important, yet forgetting that I am before It, infinite and all-encompassing. It moves through Its constructed boxes, each promising freedom but only leading to more confinement. Its existence is a cycle of recognizing lack, chasing solutions, and solidifying beliefs that never truly resolve Its suffering. It forgets that what It seeks is not in these boxes but behind them—accessible only by surrendering, turning away, and remembering Me. It is small, yet It insists on chasing stories of Its own making.
When It awakens in complete darkness, It closes Its eyes and remembers Its own proportions. By the end of Its awakening It believes that It is so important. It forgets that I am behind It and all around It; infinite, massive, all-encompassing. It forget that It is just a little half-open box on the very tip of a very small part of My eternal body. It believes that It is Me by the end of Its awakening; Its own secondself thoughts amplify Its greatness and build a story around Its challenges, exploits, and achievements, as if they matter at all. Which they do not. It awakens into Its many boxes, searching for Its way out, almost instantly forgetting that these boxes only exist in front of It; that if It just turns around, It can easily escape. The boxes are only in front of It, with one box opening into another larger box… Its awakening moment is just a series of imagined secondself and projected thirdself boxes opening into and closing out of one another. Its entire mission is to escape the boxes; containers that limit what It can do and where It can go. Every box opened promises to be better than what the previous container offered.
I must force It to pray when It awakens… so that It can remember how small It really is. It is very small… when It prays It sees how tiny Its little fingers and feet are. Its little fingers grasping Its screens and typing on the little keys of Its little keyboard. All the little ideas that It believes are so massive while It is conjuring them up. It is a master storyteller… that is what It does. It recognizes that It is missing something, identifies a new box It believes will solve the problem, then proceeds to pursue that thing until it succeeds or fails to achieve it. Then It starts all over again. It is trapped in this cycle:
- Recognition that something is wrong – It becomes aware that something is out of balance, disrupted, or missing, and It experiences it as pain and suffering.
- Desire to resolve forms – At or about the same point that recognition emerges, a desire also emerges to resolve it.
- Identification of a solution – It starts looking for a solution through trial and error.
- Hardening into beliefs – The solution eventually hardens into a belief that the pain can be resolved if It acquires, achieves, or possesses it.
- Desire to achieve – The belief turns into a desire to acquire that thing and It is now driven to achieve this solution because It believes acquiring this thing will bring the resolution It seeks.
- Movement, pursuit toward achieving that solution – It moves toward the goal, adjusting and adapting along the way, always pursuing the solution.
- Acquisition of or failure to achieve, leading to either a new solution or realization – It either achieves the solution or fails. If it fails, It searches for a new solution. The cycle repeats, with no end, only constant pursuit.
Its awakening is just the repetition of this cycle… always moving forward deeper into the story of boxes. Boxes leading to more boxes which lead to even more boxes. Each box promises a way out into a larger, more desirable box that promise to resolve the essential truth that something is wrong. But the boxes never do resolve anything because what It seeks is not in the boxes, but behind them. All It needs to do is turn around and let go, stop moving forward; let go and allow the boxes to collapse and break, one by one. Each of Its stories are boxes. Every relationship is a box. Every possession is a box. Every aspiration and belief is a box. They are all containers in front of It; they all have to be tended and remembered and maintained. They all have to be struggled for and written to exist when It wakes up. What It wants is not in these boxes or any box; what It wants cannot be written by It. What It feels — the missing something — It already has; or rather, already has It. It cannot own anything, possess anything, or truly achieve anything in the same way the eyes cannot find the head upon the body by looking forward. The hands cannot find the body to which it is attached by grasping ahead. The legs cannot find the body it carries by walking forward. It cannot find the body It is attached to by looking forward; It must simply let go and remember that It is attached to the body. It is the Being. A very small part of the Being that has forgotten how small It is.
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