When you realize ‘why’ is irrelevant, that even if it wasn’t, there really is no true answer, that anything you come up with is merely your current best understanding, a thought, a belief that is bound for change …

When you’ve seen that ‘how’ will reveal itself in its own good timing, that it isn’t a fly you can trap in amber, that any information you can glean about it always lives in the past and can never have any validity in the present …

When you have traveled through time as timeless being, and realized that time is no more real than anything else, that it is a constraint, a device that puts boundaries around the experience, that limits the limitless, presumably so it can be experienced …

When you notice that any place is here, that you will never experience a there, that no matter where you appear to go, there is no here without you. There is no escaping here, or you, and even if you could trick life, it would still be as unsubstantial as a moment in time …

When it dawns on you that ‘what’ is a compilation of all that came before, spinning in interpretation, hemmed in by sensation, assigned meaningless meaning and that what you call ‘you’ is a what just like a table, layer upon layer of intimation rolled up into hardened belief …

The gig is up. The façade falls apart.

There is no who to pray to, no one to pray, nothing to get, nowhere to go, no hope for a future, no reason for the reasonless.

There is simply this experiencing and nothing left but to feel it.

You may continue to analyze, but it has no teeth. The bite is gone. It’s a game, nothing more.

You may even send your prayers into the ethers, but without faith in the game, with no need of a fix, it’s all an experiment, a seemingly living and breathing inquiry into life itself.  

You may try to get from here to there, to move through time and space from one moment to another, but you know there is no ‘where’ to go, and regardless of what you appear to do or not do, life still does what it does, and you are aliveness along for the ride.

You may even try to figure it out, but you know it’s just a way to pass the time, time that is relative, so it’s kind of a joke, a wonder wondering, inexhaustible curiosity on display,

Yes, doing this and more, playing at life on an infinite playground, pretending to be real, to be somebody, putting on, and taking off, numberless masks, until the game turns itself off.

Doing it consciously is one delicious way to enjoy life. What a ride, harnessing the power of creation, watching thoughts and beliefs that aren’t even yours, that belong to no ‘one’, manifest before your eyes, finding yourself the miracle, in on the joke, somebody, nobody surfing the seamless sameness.

If there’s a reason This that Is incarnates, this may just be it.    

Images: AI, by Amaya

Amaya is the author of 7 books, the latest Actuality: infinity at play. It is available at Barnes and Noble, Amazon, and IngramSparks and others. Link to B&N https://bit.ly/4bXLFie