This was a very clear message.
I’m in this mindset where I’ve focused myself back into fear. I am rather unsure how to break out of it. Apathy seems more comfortable than feeling good. Feeling good seems false and draining and forced. Like I am creating happiness simply to avoid the sad depths. I fear my subconscious. I fear myself going mad. These realizations make sense over and over and over again. I keep getting these bright spots of awakening and illuminations. Then I fall back into a darkness. I am tired of fear. And I’m tired of fighting and struggle. I am simply tired. Feeling good seems like so much effort. Fear is exhausting too. So I exhaust myself trying to deal with everything. And the real world sit outside all these thoughts knowing nothing of what I deal with. And I feel, almost a contempt, but more certainly a desire to escape.
I thought the purpose of being here was love. But repetitive meditations have shown, beyond everything even love disappears. It becomes completely unnecessary. And having to convince myself what I’ve held onto this whole time, that love is the reason we exist, seems false now too. A belief system.
I don’t want this, the idea that truth is whatever I make of it. That love and all emotions are just …. Tools. I don’t want to know how alone I really am. Like there isn’t anyone else in the entire world after all. I feel very alone. I fear that I don’t exist. I feel no one else does. I worry these realizations will end me. I am very afraid of existing without form. And love, seems like a child’s story. Pretty, but untrue. Funny, as not two days ago I publicly extolled the merit of that very emotion above all else. Funny, as love is the singular thing I have wanted for all of my conscious life here on earth. Have I been wanting a ghost? A mirage? Illusion? If what we believe exists I think I just solved why I haven’t I found love yet.
I didn’t believe it exists.
I like the story of love. It is nice. Inclusive. But … People often define fear as … An illusion. If fear doesn’t exist doesn’t it follow that its opposite doesn’t either? And as I have felt both … Are these things, these emotions just product of a dreaming mind? Or am I just consciousness being conscious and nothing really exits at all?
So what is the point? If we dont exist at all? Why are we here. Why are we there? (Here being alive and human and there being non physical energy or dead if you must be specific.) What is the reason we exist?
If we exist just because we do I think that would be incredibly boring. When I was a child heaven sounded dreadfully boring as singing and milk and honey forever didn’t seem worth all the things I had to do today to get there. And now the idea of just existing to exist, quoting Thich Nhat Hahn,”Your purpose is to just be.”
I feel the truth in that. It feels right. And my mind is quiet right now. Nothing spare and floaty comes in. I am in a meditative state. But I am awake and in this world, eyes open for the first time while in this deep. And I feel … Clear. Like breath, breathing, air is being drawn in from the far corners of the galaxy, like on some horizon where I can see for thousands upon billions of light years away. And I breath in from there. From all corners of there.
What is the purpose of love if love isn’t our purpose? What is the purpose of fear? And if we exist just to be why … Why isn’t there a purpose? What god would create us just to leave us with nothing to do? Was he just mad happy in the kitchen creating something to make himself happy in the creation of it? Not even planning on consuming his creation afterwords, which would be a purpose in the end after all. Isvara was said to have begun the world in one extended session of masturbation. We, of duality, were born of nothing. Are we just the unplanned pregnancy of the cosmos?
Why. The age old question. Why do we exist? Why am I alive? Why do I want to be? Why would I want to be otherwise? Why am I here? Why haven’t I killed myself yet? Is it fear? Or hope? It has to be hope, when in the heart of suicidal feeling I have always had this pure glow of hope from my center which … Got in the way. It gave me the feeling I have what I want waiting just around the corner. And that I can’t leave without it.
So what is waiting? What is the reason I am still here? I am happy with my realizations. I could die happy now. Today. There is nothing left to do. That I know of.
So why am I here still?
I thought it was love. I thought it was some grand scheme which said I have destiny to reach for the pinnacle of this feeling.
And if we exist to create our own purpose ….
Where is she?
She being the love I want. My reason for existence. My soulmate. My twin flame. Or whatever label you can subscribe to.
Heh. Even I can’t create that image in the heart of this place anymore. I am open to the realization love and fear don’t matter. And soul mates don’t exist. I want them to, I want one so very badly, but they don’t exist. And we don’t exist so is it any wonder that’s just a pretty fairy tale imagined.
All I have wanted since the beginning of my incarnation into this place is to be loved, and if emotions are just tools, like suits to put on, it stands to reason if I want love I could have it … if I just put on the love suit.
I don’t want to. I want love to come to me. I don’t want to create it. I want … Someone, anyone, to love me, see me. Enjoy me. So I can enjoy them. Even source would suffice.
But no one else exists. We are alone. We are source. I am source. I am alone. I am.
Perhaps that is the reason we are here. So we can pretend we aren’t alone.
What came first the chicken or the egg? Does it matter? The other isn’t real anyway.
And love isn’t real. And neither is fear. And you and I, we both don’t exist. Awareness, consciousness, source, god exists. And that is all. I is designation. Noun defined as person, place, or thing.
And words really don’t matter either.
In the last meditation I did I was a book, full of white empty pages. And you could write on them, tear them out, try and understand but run water over then and they were clean and white again. And I could read them, without the words. Words got in the way. Each page was too full to hold words on it.