Opposites Exist

 I am 100% convinced that, as far as our experience goes as humans, consciousness is fundamental. Everything fits when you begin from this point. Time makes perfect sense as a construct of consciousness; it makes no sense as scattered chaos.

I will tell you something else that has become rather obvious to me: opposites exist.

This may not make your eyes widen, nor seem especially profound at first glance — but if the implications begin to come alive for you, you may rethink that. What I am saying, on the deepest level I can imagine, is that sorrow is required for joy.

It cannot be explained otherwise.

“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.”
~ Psalm 30:5 (KJV)

There are two opposites in this one passage: weeping versus joy, and night versus morning. Of course, the discourse could go on endlessly in this direction. In fact, that is exactly what consciousness does — it is what it is.

In the beginning was consciousness.

It is the only way to start.

Suppose we limit creation to nothing but the color blue. Imagine a void — an eternal vacuum stretching forever in all directions — and now fill that void entirely with blue. What exists now?

The same void we started with.

There is literally nothing in the void until there are two things in the void: in this case, the color blue and something that is not blue.

Magically, time begins the moment opposites enter the void. Time is simply a measuring device — almost exactly like a ruler. When there are two things in the void, there is the space between them, and the time it takes to move from one to the other.

Now, back to the opener: opposites exist.

When we consider anything at all, it can only be revealed to us as a contrast against a background. Reality — as we think of it — is only that which is raised from its environment.

We are only aware of what is, as compared to what is not.

You cannot explain anything without lifting it from its environment to show how it is unique.

If we can understand this truth, we are not far from understanding that consciousness is reality.

The twoness of the ultimate beginning of our universe rapidly and naturally split again, and it was suddenly fourness. If we continue imagining the beginning as the blue void, it would now require, say, yellow — and soon blue and yellow would require more and more colors. The result would be quite the bang, erupting from the blue, singular void.

This is exactly what is taking place now, and we are observers of it. The eruption expands in all directions, faster than the speed of light. As created, stand-alone opposites, we cannot observe the outer edges of what expands away from our state of awareness.

In other words, with light moving away from me at the speed of light, I could never see the end of it.

This proves that I am a process of consciousness. I do not truly have something we could call “a life.” I am an effect of Life itself.

“For in him we live, and move, and have our being…”
~ Acts 17:28 (KJV)

What does this mean, and why does it matter to me?

It matters deeply to me — especially today. I buried my mother yesterday.

When my mother passed, I had to decide whether I believe she was annihilated, or if she carries on.

In both cases, I am saddened because I do not have her with me at this time. But, as I have hinted here, there are really only two options:

1. She is gone.

2. She is somewhere.

As you might imagine, I prefer to think of Mom as somewhere rather than nowhere. But I am not going to trick myself into believing she is, just to ease my sadness. Honestly, I am not sad in either case. How is this possible?

Exploring the two options, I’ll say this:
If Mom is nowhere, that’s perfectly fine. She is in no pain, and no bitterness, anger, sadness, or suffering can be felt by the non-self.
If Mom is somewhere, that’s perfectly fine too. She is free, aware, joyful, and part of my own environment.

Of course, I miss my mom — but her whereabouts or her demise are not the determining factors. I am, therefore, not driven by my emotions.

I do believe my mother is alive on an astral plane. Why? Because consciousness could only ever be one event. Descartes said, “I think, therefore I am.” I would say that thinking is a byproduct of consciousness, and consciousness is. So, to take it up a notch: “Consciousness is; therefore, All is One.”

What really changes when I think time has passed or when I believe that I have moved from one place to another is this: my perception changes.

I am a wave on the ocean of consciousness — and so is my mother. When she crested, I could see her, waving as usual. I do not see her now. That does not mean she has gone anywhere; it means she no longer stands out against the ocean.

Can I prove any of this or find an advantage in believing it?

Conservation proves it. If my mother no longer exists, that would mean she has departed from existence — which would imply that existence and non-existence are separate things. It would mean that matter and antimatter aren’t both here in this universe, but are divided between the world and the antiworld.

When Mom occupied a form, she was confined to that space and wrapped in matter. When she exited that form, she simply returned to that from which she came — consciousness, or formless antimatter.

Does she still have the identity she had? Of course. She could surface at any time, as an accumulation of her traits and attributes, or she could surface only in part — as the flight of a yellow butterfly, one that knows it is partly my mother.

These limits of understanding are required. I am playing a part on a stage, just so I can sit in the audience and be surprised by what I do next. But to do justice to this character, I must believe everything about him. He must be central to this role, and I cannot break character — or the whole play collapses.

My disbelief was suspended by the time I’d been on stage four years. With only space to work with, my belief has built props I am completely fooled by. I can touch them, and my hands won’t pass through the spaces where I believe a solid surface to be.

The trick is only possible because I Am.

I play each part.

“I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I the Lord do all these things.”
~ Isaiah 45:7 (KJV)

Do I believe I am God? Not any more than anything else on this stage would. I am a garment He wears. Over there is a piano — another garment, worn by the same I.

Where is Mom?

I Am.

Am I Mom? No — no more than I am anyone else. The “I” I’m pointing to is The I Am. Everyone and everything exists within His dream. In all events, He is central, and He always refers to Himself as “I,” no matter who He is when He says it.

What is the advantage of this knowledge?

I think it can lead to a better script for this character. And while we’re on the subject — who is The Subject?

The subjective experience I’m having is God’s own subjective experience.

God donned me to experience creation. He created sorrow and joy together, and He is joyful when I choose joy. I am not God — but He never leaves me. He never forsakes me. So He feels what I feel, and it’s not that the two of us feel — it’s that He is the two of us.

The advantage becomes more and more obvious: God owns the set, and the set is the universe.

“…with God all things are possible.”
~ Matthew 19:26 (KJV)

It’s not merely that I should reach for whatever I desire; it’s that it’s already mine.

“Therefore I say unto you, What things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them.”
~ Mark 11:24 (KJV)

Why me?

Because He wants to enjoy His creation — and that is exactly why He wears me.

“…I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.”
~ John 10:10 (KJV)

Who are they?

Me — and you.

It is very hard to imagine what it would be like to be God, who has everything, yet wants something more. What could possibly be missing from the One God of All Creation?

Experience.

What would make experience possible? Opposites.

What would you call opposites in a universe of only God? Consciousness.

Who would you be in this story?

An outfit worn by the One who made you — so that He could experience His own creation as if for the first time.

And there you are.