What do you feel when you read quotes like these?
“You are the universe experiencing itself.”
“The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself.”
Probably a little bit of awe and wonder. Pretty neat, huh? We're made of star dust and stuff.
But how literally do you take the quotes? How deep do they really point?
If you're into meditation, try this out (for a century or two, if you have to): discover whether the feeling you call "I", and the thing(s) you call "all of existence" are actually different. I'm sure you can get at least a whiff of it if you're honest for a few seconds. "The things I experience" are made up of the very same "stuff" I marvel at when I notice that "I'm alive."
What happens when you become still to the point where you discover that they're actually precisely the same?
I'll give you a hint: it's not a little bit of awe and wonder to discover that you've -- you have -- created an entire cosmos out of yourself for the sheer spectacle of it. Or so I've heard.
But so what if that's is what you experience? It's just the brain playing tricks with itself, putting a cute spin on the world as best it can. You are, after all, just an individual, trying to make sense of the world through very limited physical capacities.
And that's the story you shall continue to tell yourself, until finally one day you can't hold in the joke any longer.
“You are the universe experiencing itself.”
“The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself.”
Probably a little bit of awe and wonder. Pretty neat, huh? We're made of star dust and stuff.
But how literally do you take the quotes? How deep do they really point?
If you're into meditation, try this out (for a century or two, if you have to): discover whether the feeling you call "I", and the thing(s) you call "all of existence" are actually different. I'm sure you can get at least a whiff of it if you're honest for a few seconds. "The things I experience" are made up of the very same "stuff" I marvel at when I notice that "I'm alive."
What happens when you become still to the point where you discover that they're actually precisely the same?
I'll give you a hint: it's not a little bit of awe and wonder to discover that you've -- you have -- created an entire cosmos out of yourself for the sheer spectacle of it. Or so I've heard.
But so what if that's is what you experience? It's just the brain playing tricks with itself, putting a cute spin on the world as best it can. You are, after all, just an individual, trying to make sense of the world through very limited physical capacities.
And that's the story you shall continue to tell yourself, until finally one day you can't hold in the joke any longer.
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