I sit looking out a window. There is no window. There is no me. There is this “I” here perceiving but nothing else is what it seems…nothing else. Sometimes this is experienced for the briefest moment ever so clearly. This entire thing, this life, is a creation of these five senses building a world I perceive as being out there and me in here. It’s so subtle that I can barely comprehend it even as I write about it now. I write how this is a playground or an amusement park, a ride or a game. All correct and all but barely a glimpse of the reality of what I’m trying to grasp. Seeing is created and shaped into something seen. Hearing is created and shaped into something heard; same with taste, touch and smell. “I” am the very act of perceiving and everything else…everything… is the shape those perceptions take not things in and of themselves. There’s nothing out there. There’s nothing here. There is only “I.” “I” don’t move. “I” am movement. “I” don’t see, hear, smell, touch or taste. “I” am seeing, hearing, smelling, feeling and tasting. These are not things happening to me, they are me. “I” am not Dylon, “I” am Dyloning.
As I try to find words I lose my sense of it. I think of examples I’ve seen of a video production where a blob of one thing morphs into one shape after another seamlessly transforming from object to object. This life is exactly that on the grandest scale. The entirety of what I perceive as reality and life is one all encompassing, never ending, always changing morph. Everything that I perceive as being a part of reality is all one seamless, unbroken whole. I never experience a single thing but an entire scene in all its infinity and complexity.
Out of this contemplation the question always arises about the existence or reality of others. There are no others. There is no me. There is only “I.” There is only one “thing” appearing as many. “I” appears as Dylon and Mary and Molly and Ace and Vicki and on and on.
Then I always ask why? Why is One doing this? The question is asked from me, Dylon. ME doesn’t ask such a question. From the perspective of One there is no asker to answer. There is no “one” outside of One to ask for a justification of purpose. This is very difficult for me to grasp for very long here as me. Yet I glimpse it. I know it exists. From my me perspective I want it be something I can use in my life here as Dylon. I want to use this knowledge to make my experience here better than the not too good feeling that Dylon often has. This seems to be a desire born of this perspective which is fleeting and therefore never takes hold. There isn’t anything here to take hold of. It is this longing for a landing spot that makes this all seem so uneasy. There is no landing spot and the never ending search to find one becomes a kind of self fulfilling prophecy where discomfort ensures its own continuation.
It is here as I write. I want to share this with someone else. I want to show this to someone else. I want someone else to witness this incredible understanding that’s emerging from me. This sense that there is somewhere I can go that will feel better than this here I am is unrelenting. No matter the clarity I appear to have, however brief, the need to establish my OKness through the witnessing of another never ceases. Is this an inexorable part of the ride to always be experienced as part of experience or something transcended and left at the curbside? Writing seems to provide a vehicle for exploration and celebration. Am I only ever writing for ME? Am I asking this question from me thinking I’m ME?
I’m left in this place of witnessing. I’m awake and “walking” through my own dream. This is all emerging from ME. Every expression of life lived is the shape the morph of ME is taking. I’m directing, producing and starring in my own movie. 7 billion other people are doing the same thing. There is only ME. I exist “here” as me. Yet I know ME is present. There isn’t anything to do about it. Like sitting in a movie theater watching a character have a difficult experience there isn’t anyone to save or fix or rescue. The movie will run its course and the lights will come up and all will be well. All is well. There’s nothing to do. There’s nothing to fix. Nothing’s broken. Scheinfeld talked about playing the game purely for the fun of playing. Outcome is irrelevant. I am Scheinfeld showing up in and as my experience. Every, single experience I have is ME. There is no meaning to try to get from the significance of any particular happening. If meaning exists it can’t be missed. There is only ME. If I don’t see then ME doesn’t want to and if I do then ME does. I can’t get this wrong.