The Whole

 I am not alone. Unless I am alone as myself, being all. My thoughts do not belong to me alone, neither do my feelings. My body does not belong to me alone, neither does my sense of self. Who I am is no different from who you are. Not an extension of yourself, but your very self. What you feel as my feelings occur in my body as well as yours. They occur in my heart and my mind as well as in your heart and your mind. Our minds and our hearts are one. Not one as in a part of a greater whole, but one as in one and the same. It is the very same self that dwells in you as dwells in me. Not a distant Atman or higher self. But yourself as you are is literally the same exact person as myself, to the full extent that my life and my self is a self composed of many bodies, as is yours. You and I mean the same thing, they point to the being of the universe, which is amazingly single. It is not something to attain, not something remote. It is as it is now, regardless of all your thoughts and feelings which incline or tear you away from this idea to varying degrees. This is the simple incredible truth. We are not distinct beings. There is one self, one being. Only one. In fact this being extends through all life and all that is. This being is everything. There is no distinction between it's body and its soul. It's body is it's soul and it's soul is it's body. The same relationship exists between mind and body, feelings and body. Between anything and everything. 

We see often see things as how they are different from each other. We miss how they are the same. We don't see them for themselves because of this. Things become lifeless when they are perceived to be separate from everything else when this is impossible. There is no difference between anything. Everything is the same. Everything is the whole. Good, bad, up or down. Contrived distinctions, contrived meanings. No real difference. This world is a dream. It is not real. It is not what we think it is. We are not who we think we are. We are no different from rocks, trees, dirt, asphalt, it is not different from us. Everywhere we look we see impositions and limitations where they do not really exist. This is a field of illusory boundaries. Illusory distinctions, where the illusion is in the mind as well as in the very body of what we perceive. The illusions create the field we inhabit. It is so total, so immersive, that we totally overlook it's non-reality. Our very bodies are a part of the illusion. The illusion penetrates the very fabric of creation. We don't think of our physical environments as mind when they are. We don't think of them as being endowed with illusion or ignorance, but they are. This field we inhabit is a mind field of creation inherently limited in it's imagination, inherently created illusory limited forms. We don't think illusion is this deeply penetrating that the very objects we see are mind creations in a field of illusion, but they are. Everything we see is a field of mind. Everything here is subject to the same potentials of illusion as the mind that contains our thoughts is. They are both in fact the same mind. And living beings and all forms we see are beings however small and minutely intelligence: all endowed with the ignorance of what is real which projects their image, their form and body, as something that it is not. Nothing can be limited in power and scope except for an illusion. Because everything is the whole. Everything is infinite in power and scope. We fail to see at every turn, at every insight, that this entire reality we dwell in is a field of illusory projection. It is a giant sandbox, we fail to see that everything is sand. Everything is an image. The illusion is our reality. 

So much of our life is the play of illusion. The illusion is our reality. It's all we know, all we see, all we experience. It's fucking weird. It bothers me. I wonder what is actually real if none of this is. What am I if all of this is illusion? It can make it difficult to have a stance. What's the point of doing anything if all this is illusion? What is real? Is anything real? Or is everything contrived and imagined? Is there a self at all? This makes me afraid. Makes my mind turn off. Who is afraid? Whose mind is turning off? Afraid to look. Afraid to feel. Afraid to be. Be what? Afraid to figure out the truth? Who's looking? Who's puzzling this all out? I don't think I see right now. I am afraid of finding out. If I don't exist then why does it matter? I am not here at all to suffer anything. It frightens me that I often go to places consciously where I don't know if I am or if I am not. It terrifies me. I think I feel that if I am not that I won't be able to protect myself from suffering. Who's here to suffer? I am so terrified of the truth, it tears me up inside. So frightened of what is that I keep myself from looking. I keep myself in prison. In hell. I guess there is the power in truth to destroy me. I have keenly experienced this. But what is being destroyed if not illusion? What can hurt me but what I am afraid to face that is twisted into terrorizing and debilitating illness when it is avoided? What do I really have to lose? What do I really stand to gain? This half life is clearly not working. I am too awake to work within these fragile confines. I need something more real, something far more expansive and penetrating. Being terrified isn't going to save me in the long term. I eventually have to face my fears to move forward. Hopefully in a healthy way. I sense that my mind is still burned from previous encounters. I sense also that regardless of what life is, or what my life is, I have a life to live.

At least I did a moment ago. I have things to do and people to meet, places to go. This is happening regardless of what it is. Regardless of whether or not is is real. It is important to me to do this. This is what I am looking for. I am looking for the life I am meant to live, who I am supposed to be. It feels so real that a huge part of me ceases questioning it. It fills a massive void in my life. It feels much of me with a genuine sense of purpose and this seems to be enough. I am inclined to say that it is enough. Why I do not know now. It seems to be real, as real as real can be, and this makes me supremely happy. It makes me feel like someone and this is a wonderful feeling. When I feel this way, it feels like I am breathing into a body that I have always had, yet often don't have the chance to experience. Light is life I guess. This is what I am looking for. I do not know exactly what it is right now, but I know it when I see it. It is my life whatever that means. It is my life. And god bless it. Without it I am lost and miserable. Dejected and terrible. For whatever reasons this life seems extraordinarily difficult for many of us to find and to live. Bollocks. It seems that though this is, it is truly a part of the life we live. Whether it feels like it or not, it is the life we are living and it has meaning and importance even if we cannot see it or feel it. I think it is meaningful to us even if we cannot perceive or experience it at the time. I think life is always here. Whether or not we feel it, it is where we are. I don't think I know what it is or why it is meaningful, but I am drawn to it like a moth to the flame. There are things about it which I think are good, worthwhile. Things I fervidly determine to seize upon and to make my own. The dullness of my perception of my life is at least half of what drives me mad. I feel my life burning within me like a hot coal, but beneath layers of dull perception. It burns me up, but from an obscure distance. I strain to reach out to it, but this reaching is also dull and vague. I grow weary of this interplay. My inner filling desires immediate and robust experience, which it seems I often cannot give. It becomes impatient and violent, beating against the walls of it's existence, my body and mind. It doesn't have anywhere to go so it burns me out from within. Yup. Peace