The surface of my experience

The surface of my existence is endlessly elastic. When I see a box, I can touch it. I can imagine what is inside. I can open it. I can see what is inside. I can want what is inside. I can like or dislike what is inside. I can then remember what I saw. I can remember what I wanted. I can remember what I imagined. I can remember how I felt. I can draw what I saw inside. I can tell others what I saw inside.

Or, I can see the box, imagine nothing, want nothing, touch nothing, open nothing, remember nothing, and share nothing.

The surface of my thirdself with its people, places, and things is a fluidic tunnel of mirrors. Seeing, touching, wanting, liking, disliking, and imagining create surface distortions I experience as folds, waves, and ripples. My true nature is hidden beneath the chaos of these swirls, patterns, and waves.

My experience will ripple with the disturbances I create by acting, thinking, looking, touching, questioning, searching, and desiring. Act not, think not, look not, touch not, question not, search not, move not, and desire not and the waters of experience will calm and I will see clearly my own nature beneath them.

When I see a house, I do not look inside. I do not want what is inside. I do not imagine what is inside.

When I see a person, I do not talk to him. I do not think about him. I do not imagine his life. I do not want anything from him.

I do not disturb the surface, for that will only muddy the waters of my experience, conceal my nature from me, and create suffering.