The Bridge of Incidents
When I Die, I Hope to Come Back as a Fruit Fly
When I die, I hope to come back as a fruit fly.
Do we come back? Of course we do. It would be silly to suppose that this gift of conscious awareness could only run in this one body.
I had a vivid dream last night. I remembered it for a few minutes after waking, but now it’s gone. Why is that? I’ll tell you why: the very consciousness that allows me to feel like me was wandering around in a dream where it was being incorporated into another—and feeling quite like him.
As soon as I awakened, it was necessary for him to go to sleep. And as soon as any of my nocturnal versions drift off, I tend to awaken as another.
This day, I have awakened as this man.
I feel awfully familiar with myself in every way, but with each inception of consciousness, a detailed history loads as memory. Nothing about my past has to be true in order for me to believe it is true. And everything about this present state naturally populates to support the history I’m loaded with.
I could ask Bill if he remembers going to Disney World many years ago, and naturally, he would recall that day. Why? Because this present state is replete with supporting actors.
You cannot, therefore, test this theory. Everything will shoot it down in favor of the present scene.
Imagine This
What if you could go back to the last sleep you remember having and witness the moments just prior to awakening? And what if you were granted a backstage pass?
Can you imagine standing beside your comfortable bed and seeing this lifeless creature—breathing in and out—not knowing what is about to happen?
Suddenly, from the director’s point of view, you hear, “Action!”
And you see your eyes opening. You see yourself hitting the snooze button and eventually getting out of bed. But what you now know is that this is all an act.
Seeing yourself from the Truman Show perspective, you would realize that nothing is actually real—just so carefully planned that the actor cannot even tell it is not real. The actor’s recollections are equally part of the act.
As crazy as this sounds, this could be true.
Why can’t we recall yesterday as it really was? Because the character you played yesterday went to sleep—and it was completely necessary to forget the scene, so that you could play this character, with its own personal memories installed.
What really happened when I opened my eyes this morning?
Whoever I was before that, closed his.
I cannot even publish this kind of thing because I don’t think many people are ready for it.
But we can already see it, if we want to. When we dream, we don’t necessarily dream dreams that align with this reality. Yet we still fit in those dreams because we have programmed-prior-experiences that support the scenes we dream.
Our present state holds up as a “present state” because our prior experience tells us what to expect. But our prior experience could easily be manipulated by our own processing.
I’m not really trying to make you believe that everything prior to today didn’t actually happen. But I am saying that the only proof we have that anything happened before today is the circumstantial evidence of memory.
It’s all hearsay—and because I am both witness and judge, I’ve reached a verdict: I’m convinced that what I think happened yesterday, actually happened yesterday.
But do you see the problem?
I could tell literally anyone what happened to me yesterday, and they’d have to take my word for it.
Circling Back
While this may sound like circular reasoning, I’m circling back for a reason:
We are making this up as we go.
It is the first Hermetic Principle: Mentalism.
“All is mind; the universe is mental.”
Of course, you may want to dismiss this idea completely. But it makes no difference whether I’m right or wrong. If we are living in this matrix and it seems real, then it’s as real as it gets.
So why mention this? Why write so much about it? Why try to discover the Hermetic Principles if they wouldn’t change anything about my perception of reality—even if it could be shown to be unreal?
Well, let me ask you this:
When Dorothy got hit on the head by that window frame, did she awaken as Dorothy in the actual world of Oz? Or was it only after the Oz version dissolved and she awakened in her bed, with her head on a pillow, that the actual Dorothy came to be?
Or—was it when the director yelled, “Cut!” at the end of the scene, and Judy walked across the set to take a break—handing Toto off to a total stranger on the way to her trailer—and became Judy again… that reality returned?
Could there be another layer?
Could there be countless layers?
All Is One
I’m not trying to make this connection.
I’m trying to reveal it.
All is One.
Consciousness is a field, never broken up by time nor space.
The fruit fly that annoys you is You.
As soon as you know you are a fruit fly, you no longer know that you are not one.
As soon as you see a fruit fly and swat it to death, you find yourself standing there, holding the swatter—having no recollection of being smashed.
Consciousness goes in and out of situations, instantly forgetting its prior state and instantly donning the story and history of the present state.
Consciousness can be two people involved in a terrible argument. It is there, taking its stand, making its case, watching the reaction on the other’s face… and then, it is the other—waiting to respond, never knowing that Oneness is providing this dual experience.
The forgetfulness of consciousness is how it plays all the parts—without ever suspecting itself.
But don’t feel sorry for having this dreadful dementia.
Without this purposeful forgetfulness, there would be no way on Earth for consciousness to feel like the self you feel you are.
If we were ever to truly awaken from this drama, I believe we’d say:
“Oh yes. Of course. What was I thinking?”
But don’t worry.
It’s always in consciousness’s best interest to forget the actor in favor of the character.
If consciousness chose not to forget, Oneness would be exposed—and all stories would dissolve.
So What Do We Do With This?
Supposing someone—who has forgotten being me—is reading this…
Here goes:
The only way to fiddle with the knobs responsible for receiving your experiential frequency is to imagine the experience you want to have.
Imagination is a wormhole from one state to another.
It may be hard to even comprehend this, but imagination is transportive.
Whatever you’re thinking about right now is already building a future state with those features. The only reason you feel “here” and not “there” is that consciousness hasn’t yet taken the trip through the wormhole of your imagination to get to that state.
Not only is there a future state where all your dreams come true—it’s also what the universe wants for you.
However:
In order to realize every dream you’ve ever dreamed, the contrasting outcome has to be an option.
Here is the trick in action:
Whenever you arrive at the very next state of experience, you will not remember having imagined it beforehand.
Remember: forgetfulness makes belief in the present state possible.
I’m not trying to make this difficult. I’m actually saying that if you become good at imagining a future of desired results, consciousness will recognize a link to the fulfillment of your desires.
If you fail to imagine a good outcome, it cannot come out good.
All you really need to do is pray without ceasing—a mental exercise where you constantly imagine the best outcome regarding every future experience you can think of.
I would not lie to you—because I am you.
Your imagination is a wormhole. It takes you to the state you build, and that state will feel natural. It will come loaded with better priors too.
When you get to the desired state of consciousness, you won’t even recall the ones you had considered—unless you built a model of them.
Building a mental model is what tomorrow’s reality draws upon as a prior experience.
Tomorrow will forget how you got there.
It will never ask, “Why did you create this?”
Instead, it will believe it flowed through a clear path of prior experiences to arrive there.
Wherever you find yourself today—whether you remember it or not—is the creative landing of a wormhole you opened with your imagination just yesterday.
Nothing that will ever happen to you will be unlike your prior experiences, as they form expectations based on imagination.
Your prior experiences are brought to you by the same force that creates the present moment.
The human imagination is, by far, the most powerful tool you have.
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