Every event and thought and action in my life points to realization of the helix of life and death as one and the same, the helix of pain and pleasure as one and the same. Differing faces of the same coin, spiralling through time and space. All pointing inward to the interdimensional connectivity of our hearts. The boundless core of emptiness that is everything and nothing all in one breath. Twisting, turning, we dance about this flame that expels us and devours us every moment. We play games, we push away our deaths, we push away our lives, we put on masks and pretend to be something singular, one-dimensional, and dissociated from all the world. All songs and stories and myths of humanity. All maps of guidebooks to the spirit.
Looking into ourselves, we see a beauty so terrible, so hungry, so powerful, we flutter away into conventionality, we label away our own infinitude, we box up our horizons and hide behind simulations behind simulations behind simulations of this reality.
This world is mine. It is at my very fingertips, it is inseparable from my heart and my vision. This world is yours. We are gods. We are terrible, hungry, powerful divine beings–and you would be so selfish, so small-minded, so vain, as to say that there is some distinction between yourself and God? That you could ever be separated? That this umbilical cord of words and sight and touch is not God? That the emptiness, and the form, and the heart, and the mouth, and the death, and the life, and the pain, and the ecstasy, could ever be anything but God?
The only thing that divides us is our hesitation to accept, to submit to our own ability to see.