Another love story for no one….
This play with no actors, appearing in a theatre of empty seats is the infinite imagination. All alone yet everything simultaneously. Already no one, no doer. Innocently arising as the emptiness that doesn’t exist, but with an apparent resisting what is, an impersonal thought that no one is thinking, appearing as belief in meaning, can make the play that isn’t seem real. Sitting on the edge of your seat in suspense was the illusion of no one arising as someone who thought the movie was real, but that was part of the masterpiece for no one. The attention being the screen from which the images dance. A blind, innocent choiceless happening like an unreal dream seeming to project. As oneness, can’t be conscious of itself it is itself, can be sensed through the mirror of opposites. Resistance can seem to objectify things making formless energy seem substantial like a magnet of dancing energy. It is such a brilliant way for that which doesn’t exist to appear to. But what’s perceiving this? Emptiness. No one. Resistance too is not separate and not real or substantial as everything is singular and can’t stand apart from itself to be something. Resistance is wholeness appearing as an impersonal concept that seems to divide the divideless yet doesn’t and is simultaneously an alarm to wake up.
No reason or purpose just a playful play of empty characters appearing and disappearing. The passion in this play is absolute energy, unconditional love appearing relative and meaningful, appearing as conceptually imagined life. The love story of the divine dancing with its non-self making love to itself through every sensation is the drama of apparent aliveness. The comedy, the romance, and the tragedy of a blockbuster hit all appear for no one. Emptiness appearing as resistance and meaning glued the film strip together in the projector in a movie called “My Life!" What would the concept of freedom be without the movie of the prison of me? The prison of me-aning made the movie seem real. All to realize that the prison is freedom and no one was in the theatre. The movie never happened. What is freedom without the resistance of absence? What’s expansion without contraction? What is happiness without sadness? Nothing. The pendulum swinging to the apparent opposite is the dream of experience. These impersonal sensations are the interface for no one to sense its non-self as someone. The unreal appearing real. Nothing wrong or right with it. It just is and isn’t. Nothing being everything! Absolute appearing relative which is both and neither. The push and pull of the one magnet. The breath of life. Whilst not happening. So in love, it hurts. Total perfection.
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Much love,
Ginny
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17 сен 2024
