There is a spaciousness that I sense around my head, extending down into my throat and neck. It comes down and down increasingly. It is expansive. The space is filled with presence. Simple grounded present awareness.
My thoughts are gone. Or if there’re there, they’re just shadowy forms likes ghosts.
My emotions are gone. Or if there’re there, they pass by as echoes and shades of a former intensity.
Noting that the intensity of experience of emotional-thought forms have drastically decreased; I instead feel within me as myself a peace - like eternity is me - like spaciousness is me - like I AM pure awareness - and no-thing else.
That grief that I remember as an intensity that I thought my entire existence would end- that perhaps my purpose for being had ended- that was a very strong and persuasive emotion. It belonged to a persona that mistakenly believed herself to be me. Or, perhaps she didn’t. Perhaps she was a liar, as we all are. Perhaps her illusions and deceptions ran so deep as to permeate her entire existence. Her existence was a lie. And that grief was for the realization that she was not, in fact, real. It was the end for her existence.
She was not real. She was made up of all of the historical events and happenings that had occurred in this environment. She was a reaction to stimulus in her environment, and very convincing- but she was only a specter of the mind. She would die with the death of the body and with the end of the body’s relationship to this environment. There is nothing essential about her. She is a being resulting from a particular relationship to the worldly environment; created by it, and so she would die with it.
When she realized that she was dead- for she is dead, and always was- she experienced that pervasive and intense grief. It has been a difficult journey up until now to discern exactly what has been happening to me. What has been occurring? For I feel my bodies transforming, and I feel the old ways sloughing off as one might shed old skin. This analogy reminds me of finding my spiritual name. Not the name that was given to the body when I was born, that the small me claimed and responded to even though she knew it was wrong and that she did not like it. But Me; the ‘I’ who is pure awareness. I sat down and knew that I would be there until I knew my spiritual name. I sat there and felt it, letter by letter, until it stared at me from the page with undeniable veracity. This was around that same time that my small me realized her dead-ness, and felt this intense grief.
For her, it is as though she died. She died when ‘I’ came to shine a living light upon her illusion of being alive. Her illusion could do nothing but shatter and explode! For lies and illusions are always there because of a lack of awareness. The lack of awareness is what enables a lie to exist. From her perspective-and my experience was from her perspective and also mine- she is as though an actress who had forgotten that she was merely playing a role. She was as though the director shouted “cut!”, the curtains pulled away, and all the audience stared at her in undeniable reality of a perfect fact that her role was over, and her belief in her authenticity was dead- a lie.
I could not have written about it, then. The experience was too raw, too new, and I had no frame of reference for it. I knew only that I felt an intensity of emotion-grief, specifically-, but also a presence and an equanimity that pervaded the background of my perceptions. This equanimity was relentless. It became ubiquitous in the days and months that followed, and I became more and more aware of the source of that equanimity. These seemingly opposing perceptions lived in me concurrently. I had no way to understand it- but I do, now.
To see through another’s eyes is not at all alarming. The experience is pervaded always by the awareness of my own ‘I’, and in fact is enabled only by my ‘I’ awareness. Thinking, for the Higher Self, is a process of entering into the perspective of Knowing. It is a direct experience. It comes through the ‘I’ as I, mySelf, regard a thing. Any-thing! I laugh with joy at the memory of the first times that astounded my mind of earthly routine thinking. It is an experience of pure wonder-awe-and delighted receiving. Thinking in or with the presence of Self is a direct experiential knowing which is at once not work at all and delightful. It is simply addicting! I cannot seem to stop the flow of knowledge from my fingertips or pen.
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