You are as real as an optical illusion is real: it’s all a matter of perception, relative to a self. Meaning is relative to a me. The truth precedes any (perceptual) interpretation of experience. The truth precedes the illusion of you.
Your ego is a strange attractor that anchors looping neurotic patterns (of emotion, thought, behavior) that sustain a sense of you as a somebody.
This moment is all that has ever been. The rest is a random rainbow trip. Consciousness collapses into an ego trip when a perception [of safety/threat, comfort/pressure, success/failure, freedom/trap, acceptance/rejection, appreciation/misjudgement, etc.] triggers a cascade of neurotic patterns across hormonal, myofascial, metabolic, psychological, etc. levels. The ’I’ flares up, the story of ’me’ rekindles and Light slips down the rabbit hole of the personal kaleidoscope. That is to say: Experience collapses into perceptions that in turn trigger neurotic patterns of anxiety, excitement, joy, nervousness, worry, guilt, shame, fixation, avoidance, recoil, fear of loss, of missing out, sense of inadequacy, of inferiority, of unworthiness, melancholy, dejection, compulsion to sustain, preserve and conserve, muscular tension in the gut, in the neck, cortisol spikes, glycogen plummets, etc.
Ego consciousness is an energy vortex with an ever elusive vacuum in the middle surrounded by clouds of cyclic patterns. Reminds me of this:
Energetically you are either in the mode of conversing or conserving: the momentary fluctuation of which is natural but monitoring (thus checking) your prevailing tendency to do the latter (to the detriment of the former) is optional.
Guys, let me paraphrase David Deida: they are waiting for someone to stop them from their patterns to open as love, you are not being a bad person intervening in their life, they are waiting to be opened as love; they want to be seen; they want to be taken.
When there is no more corners to hide in and nowhere else to turn to—No pleasure foods, no snacks, no girls, no flirts, no dalliance or kinky stuff, no distractions whatsoever, no mental onanism, no net, no flicks, no TV, no Tubes, no movies, no homies, no social, no messenger, no books, no meditation, no recreation, no studies, no grooming, no cooking, no shopping, no work, no chores, no duties to tend to, no errands to run, no crafts to hone, no training, no conditioning, no stretching, no foam-rolling, no walking, no writing, no hiking, no drifting—in front of confusion, in front of frustration, in front of idling, in front of melancholy—where there is nothing—no prospects for resolution, no chance of absolution—WHAT REMAINS?—no projects pursued, no agendas followed up on, no schemes schemed, no excuses mustered—disconnected, isolated, out of the loop, totally abandoned—What’s the point? What is there to see?—No toys, no joys. No highs, no lows. What remains? What’s there in front of the satiating carb highs and quelling cumshots, the voluptuous redheads and blondes, the distracting feeds on social, the productiveness, the hustle, the toil, the recoil into poise? What remains when you drop it all and take a deep breath instead? when instead of dulling your senses with stimulants and stimulations for another round you relax into your g(r)asping? When instead of compulsively (re)acting you choose the truth of the b(l)ooming moment? What remains?
What remains with the baby when you throw out all the bathwater?
THIS MOMENT is all that remains.
The room around you—
—the pen in your hand, the books on the shelf, the sounds from the street, the sounds in the room, the pressure in your gut—there is nothing left but this moment, fully, resplendent and replete—absolutely no limit; infinite. The sheer abundance of this moment that surmounts you. Connection, integration, total intimacy. Translucence.
What remains is simply the truth and the truth is the point of it.
Take nothing at face value. See through the sur-face. See through the ripples. Rest with the truth of this moment. No matter the content it’s the context of your engagements that manifests in your experience. No matter their content it’s the context of your comments that determines the interpersonal trajectories involving you.
See through the bitchiness of women, see through the antagonism of colleagues, see through the heavy moods of loved ones, see through their trans-generational, trauma-induced compulsions to hurt and feel hurt, see through the ingratiating comments of your fans, see through your adverse and elated reactions—feel them, embrace them, fully, rest in them, struggle with ease—nothing’s a big deal.
The sense of separation is the seed of it and fear is the fruit of it. You’ll see through it by seeing it through.