The creator is you and you are the creation
All my life I have been an ordinary person, with my childhoods faith and no interest in spiritual matters.
Then something happened that turned my life up side down. What can be red in the chapters The red chalice and I am a slave, a lady, a warrior, a monk and Judas Iscariot. When that happened, stability was kicked out from under my simple excitants.
I did not believe in such things, yet they happened. I did not want to have these things in my life, still they were there.
I had no choice but to start the search for the real me, if there was any such thing.
I did not believe in such things, yet they happened. I did not want to have these things in my life, still they were there.
I had no choice but to start the search for the real me, if there was any such thing.
I soon realized I was not to be found outside myself so I started the look inside. It was a strange journey, felt like I was rising up from the deep layers of my self.
I got visits in my dreams were I was led to various places and given knowledge. That gave me a wider understanding of my self. The journey was sometimes amusing and sometimes horrifying, but it was always broadening my views to my self and others.
I got visits in my dreams were I was led to various places and given knowledge. That gave me a wider understanding of my self. The journey was sometimes amusing and sometimes horrifying, but it was always broadening my views to my self and others.
My search had been going on for months and it seamed like it would never end. I felt I was still at the starting point.
I had red all kinds of books about theosophy and occultism, and by that gotten all kind of new knowledge. I also found knowledge in myself I had never noticed and on top of that my friend from another world visited me in my dreams.
I listened to what other people had to say. I didn’t understand all of it. There were so many interesting things others knew. I was like a child beside them.
Still I could see how little use all this knowledge was to us. We were still rocking between sorrow and happiness and we were not near any closure.
But I could not stop searching. I longed to know who I behind it all was. I craved for the truth and nothing else.
In many books the writers seemed to know the truth. They talked about a higher self, different paths and growth and sometimes they talked around something that could not be told. Much of it was very beautiful but I could not understand it all. Nobody said what to do to find the truth. Why did they not just tell us how to go about it?
All the knowledge I had gathered was starting to lose its worth. Books did not satisfy my need. They were so many and so different I could not know which were right and which not. And this really applied to everything else I came across.
I craved for the truth like a drowning man for air. I wanted to face it, no matter what and if there was no truth I would accept that but I did not know what to do. All I could do was to keep on reading and listening what other seekers were saying.
In one of such discussion someone said, quoting another, that one of the ways was to peal of all that we had gathered in our lifetime, and look at it objectively but it would be very difficult and impossible for most of us.
Those words stuck to my mind.
This was the firs time I had heard of a way to get to the truth. I thought of them and remembered that another man had said something like this. He had talked about leaving everything and to follow him.
What did they mean? What was this all I had to peal of me, look at and leave behind? What had I gathered, belief ideas and faith? Did they mean that?
The only way to find out was to do as they said.
I started looking at my life and soon saw that it was mostly built on ideas I had of everything. Things that had seemed sure were not so sure any more.
In reality I knew nothing, I only thought I did. And that applied to everything in my life.
Little by little I pealed of the life I had built around my existence until there was nothing left but God and me.
It was difficult to reject God. May faith had been with me through hard times and good and I had it to hold on to in my sorrows.
But they had said it all and I longed for the truth so I had to go all the way. If God was a reality he would keep on being no matter what I would do. And what was my faith in God other than an idea made by myself? What did I know about God? Nothing. That was a fact I had to come to turn’s with. I did not know whether there was a God.
Then there was nothing left but me.
What was this I called I? Who was I? Was I maybe an idea created by my own mind? Or was this maybe nothing but a dream? My dreams had often been so real I was surprised when I wok up and found out it had just been a dream. And sometimes I dreamt I was dreaming. And what if this was not my own dream but somebody else’s? Would I disappear when this other woke up? I could not know any of this. I did not know who I was. I did not know if I was.
It all started the day you were born into this world, I suddenly heard, at that time you had your firs experience.
I new this voice, I had called its owner my friend. But now I no longer knew who he was. I could not know whether this was a deception made by my own mind or something outside my self or jus nothing at all.
I listened to what the voice had to say. It described this first experience of mine and at the same time I saw pictures in front of me that showed what the voice was saying.
I saw my life from the day I was born until the day I now was here. Even the moment this voice came into my life was not excluded. And the voice helped me to se the experience and knowledge each event brought with it.
I saw the little, innocent baby change into a child, teenager, young woman and at last the woman I now was. I saw how difficult it had sometimes been for her and often felt bad for her. But it did not touch me personally, like I was standing on the outside as a neutral spectator.
When the voice stopped talking and the pictured disappeared I was silent and thought of what I had seen.
It was somewhat remarkable to think of all that I had experienced in such a short time. And even more remarkable,that I had lived through all my sorrows and struggles even though happiness had also been there.
But what did all this tell me? These were all fragments. Where was I in those pictures? I tried to build up a whole picture of what I had seen and then I understood what this was.
This I called me was an image, created by my self, in my mind, built up of memories like my entire world. Memories that had their source in the experiences I had gathered through all kinds of events and knowledge I had gathered from books.
But that could not be. I had not tried or learned everything. This image could not be the true me.
I had looked at it all. There was nothing left. And at that moment I vanished into thin air and disappeared.
Where there is nothing there is truth.
There was a movement in my breast, like an energy flow, very light and without force. My conscious became clear and my first thought was, there was nothing, yet there was life, that is the truth and that is I.
There was like a lightning struck my mind and I saw and I understood. It was not right to call this their higher self. They had all their own interpret of all words and it was not higher and it was not theirs. It was they. The truth was not in parts. It was always whole and it could not be whole with lies or deception. ‘It’ was a better name for it. Because that’s what it was. My reality was not I. I was the truth and life. We can not own it, just be it and then it all. Truth
I tried to think of what had happened before I vanished but I could not. I could think the words baby, child, woman, sorrow and happiness but I could not relate that to me. It was gone and I knew it was not gone into my memory and forgotten. It did not exist anymore. I was not made up of fragment of experience. I was whole and undivided and free.
I felt neither glad nor sad. The creator was me and I was the creation. That was all. No struggle. Nothing.
Yet I was not without feelings. I thought of my children sleeping in their beds and I felt love for them.
I was not without longings. I felt for all those people still fighting that which we call I, in a world created by them self’s around this I and I wanted to tell them about my experience.
But how could I tell them about the life behind the image, that ‘it’ was the only reality, that life was the truth and truth life and that nothing existed outside of that.
How could I tell them that pealing of and leaving everything they had gathered was not one of the ways but the only way? They had all decided it was otherwise.
I could understand how difficulty it would be for many to leave it all. They had built all their existence on their deceptions and it would need great courage to face to that.
And even if I tried how could I tell them without words they all had their own interpret of? And would they believe me.
And even if I tried how could I tell them without words they all had their own interpret of? And would they believe me.
How could I say there are no consecrating, no initiation, no secretes. Everybody can be ‘it’ no matter what, that which they sought was not to be found or owned. They could only be ‘it’.
‘It’ had always been them. They just didn’t know. The truth had diapered into the ocean of deception they had created. And they were so sure that their world, their deceptions was the truth that I would not be able to convince them otherwise.
Yet they should know the truth could only be one, unchangeable, unshakable and for all eternity the same for all men. And they could only be ‘it’ all. And for that they would have to leave all.
Others had discovered the truth and they had found the same longing to tell others. They had tried to tell their fellow men. But the only thing that happened was that people stared at their persona and called out, savior, teacher and they did not even try to believe their words and follow in their footsteps. They found it enough to create images about them, and religion around them.
I had discovered the truth and I was sure that now I would turn my back to the deception I had created around my own image. I had to stand by the truth no matter what. I was the truth and could not do anything else.
Now I stood in front of a different world. Yet everything was the same, the earth was the same, the people, the events, all was the same. But even though the people and events looked the same, my view of it was new. That was somewhat strange.
Someone said something on the TV, radio or to someone else and I understood it in a different way. At first I was a little bewildered, or maybe rather surprised, so I decided to write down how the world looked to me. That is how all the chapters in the book What am I? came about.
ih/89
Send a message
Search for members