The Living Story

It’s very early in the morning. It rained all day yesterday and now it seems to be settling down and will clear. It’s nice that we’ve been able to enjoy the cooler weather this late into May but I’m sure it’s going to change soon.

The last few days have been very difficult for me. I haven’t written for a couple of days because of what has been going on. It’s been one of those great storms within me, one of the most powerful ever.

Last night I woke up very early in the morning to a powerful storm of thoughts that I couldn’t control so I had to just let them run their course. I’m not sure what caused it. Possibly I had become overly stimulated by the day before when it was very busy at work.

I also had an event happen that seemed to take me to a place that I couldn’t understand. Even my heart told me that I wouldn’t be able to truly describe it. It’s not meant to be described literally. We can only use metaphor.

A couple of evenings ago I happened to fall asleep for about 15 minutes while watching TV. I woke feeling very strange. I went outside and looked around into the darkness lit up by the normal lights that are there to help humans see in the darkness.

I looked up to see the clouds in the sky lit up by the city lights. I realized I was seeing deeply into something. At one point I wondered if I was about to die simply because I felt like I was seeing into the other side.

Of course I felt very uneasy at first with what I was seeing. I still sort of feel that way and this is why I’m finally writing, hoping that this will help me to sort it out some.

The next day I woke to the same feeling but it was a little different. I could see it a bit more clearly. I had only a thought that passed through my mind that seemed to describe it. This thought said, “I’m not really here.”

I followed the thought to see that what I meant was that my heart isn’t really here. I’m simply in a body that is sort of an avatar and my true being was somewhere else.

This reminded me of something that Elon Musk has said. He talked about this life being nothing more than a virtual reality. He relates it this way because of how humans are becoming able to create a virtual reality. Once this virtual reality that create is able to attain free will, such as what might be termed as AI or artificial intelligence, it is then able to form a life of it’s own and thus because like human who are a virtual reality but for another being.

This is a good metaphor. But it is just a metaphor because this isn’t the whole literal truth of it. Even I can’t describe the whole literal truth. I can only use metaphor.

This is sort of the same as what Alan Watts says about life being a game. Nothing more than a game and one doesn’t have to take it all too seriously but just play the game.

Well, this metaphor was sort of hard for me to comprehend. It definitely doesn’t seem like a game. A game would be fun and many times this isn’t fun.

Yet, when you go back and look at it from the virtual reality concept, it does sort of make sense. Just like humans who play violent and crazy games, this game here in this life is much the same. Individual beings playing different roles through avatars in the form of humans. Some of them enjoy fighting in wars and violence in the cities. Being drug dealers and drug traffickers. The list goes on and on with all the many characters playing out their roles based on what this beings playing the game desire from them.

My heart put it another way for me. It’s like a story being told and humans are characters within the narrative. In some ways, it could be seen as several stories being told through the human experience but yet it is still only one. One per humans.

Each one is portraying a character that is living out a narrative as the writer writes the narrative. Again, this looks much like the virtual reality metaphor.

It seems we have free will but that free will is really the will of the writer who is writing the narrative for the characters.

The interesting part of this, by blending both similar metaphors together, it can be seen that the being playing the game or the writer of each character is, in most cases, so wrapped up in the experience because they as player or writer can not only see what the characters are seeing but they can also feel every feeling the characters are feeling, that they lose all sense of their own reality. They literally become the character, experiencing what they experience as being their own reality.

This means the being playing through the avatar really does become the avatar or the writer really does become the character. The story has so much suspense and intrigue that they become the feelings within the corruption that they might be experiencing or the intense violence or the high of trafficking drugs, or the intensity of being a powerful CEO of a company. Again, the list goes on as we all know there are seemingly an infinite amount of characters.

Well, at this point we can then go back and see that each avatar human isn’t so much the expression or the desired expression of a being playing a game or a writer writing a story, but they are the expression of the many aspects of the universe, for lack of a better word. The universe loses herself in these roles, each role depicting an expressional characteristic of the conscious universe. Each individual character seemingly individual and different from another, not so much biologically but with what they are expressing.

Okay, this is fine but there seems to be more to it as the narrative doesn’t so much seem to be coming from a distant place but from here in this reality. This is where it seems to be a story within a story. The universe is expressing herself through these human avatars and, at the same time, the narration is being high jacked by something else who is writing a different story, using the universes characteristics within that individual human, and seeking to guide the humans in certain modes of thought and expression.

Thus we see how humans, as individual and different as they try to be, are nothing more than a narrative written for them. Every book, TV show, news report, all leave traces or even massive amounts of residue upon their expression, often guiding them into different directions within the narrative. Often fighting against the core narrative of the core story, and thus causing them to live in conflict with themselves because they feel they are being torn in different directions. One narrative wanting them to go into one direction and another narrative seeking to get them to go in another direction.

Well, this could be multiplied into millions of parts. When a human reads a book, they aren’t so much gaining knowledge but they are simply altering their narrative. Each book alters a person’s narrative. Some books just a little and others affect it a lot.

The same with each news article, which portrays life through the perspective of the person writing it, which then can change the perspective of others who read it and thus affect the narrative of their story. Depending on how much a person might trust what they are reading determines how much it affects them.

Yet, each narrative doesn’t really matter because, just as I’m here trying to describe something that can’t be described, they are describing things here in this life in a metaphor also. The metaphor of their perspective. A perspective that is based on nothing more than a series of metaphors gathered throughout their lives describing this experience in life and thus causing them to act in certain ways.

Then there are those who become aware of it all. That it is all just a story or a game and humans are simply avatars playing roles within it based on a narrative that is being written for them. They are still portraying a character and living out a narrative yet they are also aware that someone else is writing this narrative for them.

Well, for some this could be frightening. I think it was for me in the beginning. As I write it out it is settling down some. The hard part for me was in realizing that I too was trying to change the narrative of my natural story.

The storm of feelings and thoughts that I felt yesterday seemed like the initial bomb going of, leaving me in a state of confusion afterward. As the dust settled, what I came to see, again waking up very early today, my thoughts not running on through my past and everywhere through my life as they did last night, but actually seeing my own story for the first time more clearly. My own natural story.

The human with Asperger’s who, even though he’s been aware of this for a few months is still fighting against this narrative, unable to truly accept it and be at peace with it, even though he can’t deny it either.

I can see that it was my heart who was taking me back through my past and seeing myself as I was, not as I perceived myself to be, and this was causing me to experience great anxiety. Very intense anxiety and even a great feeling of helplessness.

Then this morning waking again after only a few hours of sleep, hoping I could just go back to sleep but then seeing that something more was coming, just not a painful storm, I could see myself as I am in this world. The story that I am.

As my heart told me yesterday when I was coming to see the metaphor of the story. She said that all I need do in this life is live the story as it unfolds for me. Nothing else. There is no right or wrong, good or evil. There is only the story.

I can either continue to fight against the narrative, trying to write my own narrative, which will only lead to discomfort and unease. Or I can simply let be the narrative of my natural story, which is a story about a man who lived all of his life not knowing what it was that made him different and then, one day, he came to be aware of this and from there the story goes on.

Nothing else matters but that story and playing out the story. Just going with the narrative as it unfolds. Truly being that character. Because, by not truly being that character but fighting against the character, in a way, it robs the writer of truly experiencing what it is that they are seeking to express through the character.

Again, in this way, I’m not really here. I’m somewhere else with a laptop on my lap, writing this story of a man who is writing his story in this laptop on his lap, experiencing his feelings and emotions as he does this, all the while being the expression of the writer herself, who is the universe.

This is the best I can describe this at this time and it did make me feel much better to write it out, even though many details are missing that, well, just didn’t make it into this expression.

Mostly it’s the details of how I am coming to peace with being who I am. Feeling the great ego I’ve had in not being able to accept that I’m different in such drastic ways from others. How everyone has known but me all of my life. My entire life I believed I was just being like everyone else yet not getting the same results as everyone else.

How this has actually caused me to look more crazy or mad than if I had simply understood who I am and lived with the acceptance that I’m a bit of a retard in life while having many abilities that others don’t have. Abilities that most people don’t really care about having because it doesn’t fit into their narrative. Thus, leaving me alone to enjoy my abilities as I experience my own narrative which is much more peaceful when I accept the narrative rather than constantly fight against it, causing nothing but turmoil and strife within me.

There, I think I got some of that part of the experience into this writing of which I may be able to go into more detail later.