The following words cannot possibly be true.
There is the unshakable field of having wanted to come here, of having chosen a life as human being, as this multitude of human beings all self-aware and clawing their way back to Self. But stepping back from the grit of living, the thrall of striving, and even the non-experience of realized being, find this being human vibration appears like a script read before. Prior art.
So there is this knowing of the script, as predictable and familiar, and also a knowing that this was chosen. Not as a deliberation of the facts and the precedents but as an exhilarating moment of ecstatic creation. Stepping back to that space, see the snatches of remembering, not as memory but as truth, of that choice before time. Impulsively choosing to activate the full-on context of this reality, reflection knew, seeing the beginning and the end simultaneously, that it would be exactly like this, having known the script. But creation is ultimately irrepressible, and potentiality nothing until expressed. The excruciating stasis of pure consciousness is shattered by one tiny vibration. The tiny bing that produced the Big Bang. A geist, laughing and swirling and plunging in again, birthing another reality, another round of experience and imbalance. Off to vibrate in the beauty realm once again.
That which is peering through the lens of the human state drives even further than Self-realization into the primordial. The scripted persistence of this universe and human form, in apparent sequential time, is an intrigue. Experienced as a succession of days of searching the mystery for meaning and purpose, there seems always more mystery and no destination, with even Self-realization a scene in the script. So after getting over the shock of Self-realization, after the obsessive need to re-mind that attention is all there really is. Through the ineffable detachment. After, ugh, shudder, "enlightenment". There is still no stasis.
Seeing that all only apparently is, yes, fine, and is only transient fabrication, sure, okay, but further that the human experience is a modality, a vehicle for creation and for realization of being. And stepping back even further, see that there must be others, modalities that is, vehicles, that are possible. Back in stasis, any could be activated. The human one. Another one. Any way for being to realize and observe itself. Another frequency of primordial vibration explodes out of stasis to generate a reality completely different, far beyond the gasps of human imagination.
Nah, can't be. I'm going to go make a sandwich.
