In this incantation, nothing has happened, yet everything is happening now. My memories, rather than being recollections of past events, are sensations in my current moment. I exist perpetually in the present, with my experience moving backward as beliefs and projections emerge from my coreself, creating the illusion of time and events. The distortions I perceive in my projections, like reflections in a funhouse mirror, are not changes to my essence but shifts in the surface of my awareness. Memories are simply projections layered upon the fabric of my being, shaping my perception of reality but not altering my constant, unchanging self.
Nothing happened. Everything is happening now. My memories are not impressions of past events that I experienced, but rather they are sensations I am having right now. The collection of total memories of a past that I “remember” is a constellation of beliefs and “feelings” I maintain in my one and only moment. None of it arises from events that happened previously, or before my present moment. I “remember” just a moment ago chatting with a contractor — that did not happen. Rather, it is happening now and my experience is actually moving backwards. I forever remain here, now, in my moment, but my sensation of moving forward through time is actually my projection of beliefs moving ever-deeper into the flesh of my moment. The sensation of time passed is actually the surface of my moment receding away from potency and toward impotency.
That last part is challenging to conceptualize. How does it work if everything is actually happening now, even my “memories of the past”? Nothing, and everything, is happening right now. I am everything, and I do not change, however it is my false identity as a person experiencing personhood that creates all the distortions in my being that I experience as my awakening. I can easily see the true nature of what is happening by closing my eyes — it is formless, shapeless, infinity. That is the truth of what I am. But when I open my eyes, I project color, light, space, movement, and forms into my shapeless flesh. It is my attachment to these projections that creates my sense of time. I snapshot a moment, which creates a belief in me that “something happened”… but that is actually a wound or injury, a trauma, and the pain of that trauma is what forms the “memory”. My attachment to specific projections forms the basis of these “memories”.
I Imagine looking into a fun-house mirror that is changing shape, warping my reflection. Is my body truly changing shape with every twist and warp of the mirror? No, my body remains in-tact as it is; it is the shape of the surface of the mirror that is changing. I remember seeing someone a few hours ago up on the ridge; did that happen? Right now I am sitting in front of the fire at my cottage; was I actually on the ridge talking to that person a few hours ago? Or is the surface upon which I project changing? I am constant and unchanging; it is my projection outward, reflecting back to me as form, light, color, and movement that changes. I do not change. I cannot change.
There is only my moment, and then my projection reflecting back to me. My moment can be a raging inferno of change and movement when I travel through a Delhi bazaar, or it can be a calm, controlled hearth when I am locked away in my darkened temple. In both cases, I am the same. I am here, now. Nothing is fundamentally different between those two scenarios except the surface upon which I am projecting. Does that mean that the events I recall as “memories” never happened? That these thoughts I call memories are not impressions of past events? What are they if they are not impressions of past events? They are Secondself projections into the flesh of my being, like reflections in that funhouse mirror. I am not changing, but the surface upon which I am projecting is changing. My secondself and thirdself surfaces are changing.
Combined, all my memories form a sort of malleable shell around my awakening which I wear like a garment. I wear a garment of flesh, blood, and stories. I wear these stories during my awakening and believe they are true. But they are not true. What is true is that I am the Author and I am writing all of this and simultaneously attaching to the story and believing it. I suspend my identity and believe that I am a person among other people, in a place among other places, at a time among other times. But other people and other places and other times are just my projection
There is some inconsistency here: what is warping? Is it my projection warping, or the reflection? The reflection construct requires there to be a separate mirror that is reflecting; it is an unnecessary abstraction. It is my projection that is warping the mirror that is reflecting me back to me. There is no mirror; there is only me here. I am the projector. As my being channels through secondself and out into thirdself, it creates everything I see.
And what about my sense of time? Of events occurring in the near past versus distant past? My sensation of seeing someone on the ridge a few hours ago, versus meeting that same person 20 years ago in a British Raj-era bungalow on the side of the mountain in Almora? This sensation of time corresponds to the depth of my projection. I would say that I am projecting him very shallowly. But if I think about meeting him 20 years ago, then that would be projecting deeply. They all happen now, they just get projected at different depth levels.
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