I was born into circumstances and conditions not of my making, into a reality I learned words to describe. The words are not reality. They are symbols for the way my senses interrupt reality (If I were a cat, my cat senses would sense a different reality).
To discover what I really am, and what really is, I must get out of this human, this vehicle with its limited senses.
I did it. I am out. I am not in a body. I liberated myself from a human vehicle. I am no longer a ghost in a human. Elvis has left the building.
I am in a space, a place of no thing, nothing. I am conscious of nothing except myself and space. I have no form. I am only aware that I exist. Nothing is happening. I am pure awareness (whatever the word “pure” means) but there is nothing I am aware of. I wait, and wait, and wait, in silence, and wait some more. Nothing. Now I am thinking again.
If I don’t use the words I learned while in that human, I will not be able to describe a thing. What was I before words? I am in an impossible situation. There are no words to describe it accurately. What to do? I am waiting again, waiting for what I know not. I start thinking again. The closest I can describe my situation is, I don’t exist, and yet, I am conscious, and I have memories of my previous state inside a human.
Wait, now there are images, forms I recognize, some I do not. I have words to describe some of them, but not all of them. Some are just forms. The forms I recognize are from memories when I was in that human. Shit. I am stuck.
I am aware that I am aware. I am aware that this smaller awareness has nothing to be aware of. Am I the awareness that is aware of the smaller awareness? No matter how much I try to get rid of the smaller awareness, its still there being aware of nothing. This is stupid. I start not thinking again. I am the stillness of silence. I don’t exist, and then, I am back, conscious that I am alive (whatever the word “alive” means). I try again being silent, again there is nothing. Oh well, I might as well start thinking again.
Thinking is so limiting, so defining, and all that thinking is from my memories when I was in that limited human, and yet, talking about limiting, when I am silent, there’s nothing (as if that’s not limited).
Maybe it’s more fun to be something, than nothing. Maybe being in that human isn’t that bad. Hmmm. I’ll have to give that some thought (but damn, I’ll be thinking with human words again). I am screwed. What the hell is going on?
I am still in a space, being aware of nothing. I am again conscious that I am conscious, conscious of nothing but that I am conscious of nothing. Boooooring. I am starting to appreciate that being in a human isn’t so bad. At least there’s ice cream. Hell, right now I’d appreciate being the ice cream.
I feel like going out and hugging killers, murders, despots, plagues, disease, and sure, trees of course. At least there is something, and not nothing. I have two hernias and two bad hips. Thank God (or whoever, or whatever word you want to use, or not).
At least something is happening. The explosion of life is so cool. Chaos is magnificent. Life is fun. I always thought it was fun, but now I know why. Thank you life for being weird.
I am everything. I am all of it. I am life. I am Tom, and it is hilarious that Tom thinks it’s only Tom. I am laughing Tom’s ass off.
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