It is not I as in the body that I see in the mirror everyday that represents me as the creative being. My body itself is a creation by me and not me. Likewise I cannot say that anything I experience outside of me as in what I see, what I hear, is not of me and none of my doing or any of my business as all that comes into my awareness is already mine and hence created by me, as in a creation. They are all, but all that comes to me in my experience – my creation yet is not me but of me, of what I believe them to be and thus myself. Still, none of them represents me of what or who I truly am except merely a creation by me, to escape what I truly believe to be true.
But what can be true, only except in my imagination? Not to partake the perception that others are not real and yet I am real as in the body is of no difference from being in lie that I believe to be true. I think I am typing, I think I am speaking, I think I am brushing my teeth – all, but all of what I think is a lie.
When teachers or helpful resources suggest that we are the creative beings that God intend us to be, they were not speaking to me as in the form of which we think we are but to who we rightfully and truthfully who still thinks we dwell in a body which belongs to us, which we think we are responsible for. Thus each move, each action to beautify and glorify myself although thinking anyone out there is merely a mirror is too a delusional lie in which I believe in. This body itself is also another mirror, telling me what I secretly think of myself – those eyes, those ears, those breasts, those legs… not one is left out but to continue a dream which is simply, just a dream.
Each of us are in truth part of a whole integral collective, only seeming to occupy a space that we seem to be responsible for – the subset mind of an integral mind of which is believed by none other but ourselves – split to umpteen manys as individuals. Yet when one begins to look within, continuously striving towards the truth in an admit of defeat – each layer of lie is then stripped off. It is not astonishing to note that what exists in one’s mind is no different from another, yet an imposter we are to mask what is the same secret that each one of us hold.
What is the difference, if I turn the radar inwards not blaming others and put all blame onto myself? What difference is this body which I think I dwell in, with any other body that is vision-ed outside? A lie, a lie… yet a lie so necessary to hide my deepest darkest secret – the unfair just which I hold steadfastly, not ready to lose those last pieces.
Only the willingness to be taught, He says. I say, only the willingness to be wronged. And in that wrongness, am I made right, correctly, exactly, accurately, precisely and perfectly where no more menace can ever shake my core which I thought once could be shaken.