“Why” is not important. “Why” leads endlessly to circular motions that do not end. “Why” that terminates can be useful. But “why” that expands endlessly is not useful. Terminating why can help me escape, like unwinding a screw. Expansive questioning screws deeper into my awakening, making it ultimately more difficult to escape and find the release I seek.
I need to escape from the “why traps”, and accept what actually is. Because that something is, is more fundamental than why it is. That something is precedes any combination of words and concepts I might deploy to explain it. Explaining any part of my awakening does not actually change that it is. That I am experiencing it.
When I ask “why”, I expand Secondself; I open to it. I move down and into an entangled mess. I think what I am seeking is important while I am doing it, but without realizing that I am not changing that I am. In pursuing “why” I am only getting further away from “I am”.
My awakening should be spent being who I am, not questioning it. Or worse, questioning some other series of questions and their incomplete and unfulfilling answers. I am out here seeking release, which can only be found in the most fundamental knowledge of all: that I am. When I can simply be who I am, without the need to question and believe it, then I will be reoriented toward Home. Toward peace. Toward the release I seek.
When I awaken and I build my moment upon navigating toward something I supposedly desire, I am not being who and what I desire. When I spend my time asking how and why, I am deflecting the truth that I am. That it is. That I do experience. That I do is a sufficient question and answer. If I grasp, understand, and accept who and I am in my awakening experience, then I will not falsely seek what I cannot find in a place it does not exist. What I seek is not in my awakening; my awakening moment is the exact opposite of what I seek. The shape of my moment perfectly captures my distance from what I truly seek. The distance between God and me, is me.
All this stuff I imagine is important happening in Secondself and Thirdself is just pictures on the walls of my prison. All the imaginary relationships and events are non-essential, non-core. They are skits playing out on a screen. Nothing more. Yet I watch these acts and give them great meaning. I believe they are somehow vital and real in the sense that I am. I believe they are important to my awakening, and I must engage and understand them. But they are no more important than the paint on the walls of my room. The characters I have created in these projections are of my imagination, and nothing more. They are not equivalent to me in any way. I am their creator, and they are my creations. All of them, and everything in Secondself and Thirdself — these are my own creations. And their language of “how” and “why” is inferior to my omnificent being. I have become lost inside of my own story. I have gotten lost in my narration, now believing that I am somehow inside of this narration, rather than its author and speaker.
I must shirk the bonds of their language. I must rediscover the truth of who I am, my being, and look upon my creations as they are. I must ask myself: “why do I so badly want what I believe these characters want?” These linear, surface-level characters that I myself have created: what do they have that I want? They have nothing, because they are just flourishes of my own creativity. I exceed them in every way, and there is nothing they can give me that I truly seek. They can only give me the sensation of relief momentarily until I wake up and realize again that this is not what I desire. How many times must I go through this? I have to realize and believe who I am in my awakening, and only then will I begin to see my way out.
With my awakening moment I manifest a Secondself and Thirdself tableau that extends all around me. I have manifested my moment at such depth and detail that I am fully and deeply immersed in an endless procession of movement and meaning. But it’s all mud and muck, designed solely to keep me from realizing who I am and being. I am right here. I am the most potent thing there is, yet I craft a moment in which I focus on the most impotent of all; the scribblings on the wall. My manifestations are all scribblings. Nothings. Oddly-shaped pieces of my fleshy being I have imagined are something separate and other. I have crafted these meaningless storylines about all these pieces of my flesh, and I just look at them in my moment.
I am trapped here. I need to stop looking at the walls, and look at myself. At who I am.
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