There was a small introduction written at the beginning of the book.
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For seeking path ahead|
A novel for those who read to cultivate themselves.
For those who don't seek immortality, but seek to live like an immortal- with inner peace, tranquility, joy and love.
People often binge stories as a form of escape. Fantasies give the dopamine that everyday life doesn't, they much more rewarding for much less. But, people end up with sadness and withdrawal, when fantasies with easily rewarding and engaging concepts and exploits end.
And so, the novel is dedicated towards and designed for imparting things to readers, along with being a tool for them to cultivate themselves.
Rest be cautious|
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At the beginning, existence had a single word, a single expression, a single manifestation. And the manifestation was the creative force. Aware only of itself, creating and manifesting only itself.
And it's word expressed only itself, but in that word existed everything manifested and to be manifested. Everything created and to be created. And everything was binded together through Self Love. The Creation was one with the creator, the creator embedded within the creation.
The creation was the creator's way of knowing themselves. The creator was the creation's way of knowing itself.
But, something was amiss. Awareness knew no other. Since awareness could never become aware of anything apart from itself, it split itself.
Existence which was now at the beginning of the first change, split into two seperated ends.
Two different ends were born, one of Godliness- the manifested divine awareness, another of illusion- born of Self withheld of Godliness.
The One manifested many at a different end, while being the source manifestation of godliness.
Creation seperated from the creative force, for the first time, under the illusion- Created a seperate sense of self. This ephemeral sense of self was created on being the subject of illusion of change, as so was the creation holding on to it.
The grandest scale of play had been created, with several local manifestation of the One.
The local primary manifestation of the quality of creation and love was called God.
Through the manifestation, the one created many.
The manifestation, unaware of its own source, had the same word, but one lacking awareness.
But, there was a separation, an absence, the lack of a self which would cast the light on what connected the somehow limited and reduced, avatar of the infinite and limitless One.
The creative force called God, under the influence of illusion, removed the separation the very way that The One had, through manifestation.
While the One did so by creating the play and separation, God did so by witnessing manifestation of something which wasn't itself.
All of the longing of the creation for something else had been cast into a being called Light Bringer.
But, that existence was soon condemned, called abhorrence, named Satan and cast into the limbo.
Since it was called the source of death.
Light Bringer's light would've taken God to the One and the One to beyond. But this change was death to their words, the manifestation of their words.|||
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The beginning of the book was like a text of otherworldly theology, then it turned into a novel, and by the end it became like a poem.
There must've been millions of books in the world, but the book in his hands felt far above any book in existence. It felt like it wasn't a religious scripture but perhaps a fiction containing oceanic truth.
An extraordinary book that you could read but miss completely, because the essence was not in the words of the book. It ran side by side in silence between each word, lines and paragraphs.
As he read the book, he entered a state of meditation - he was no longer reading fiction but was encountering the experience of a great being, not absorbing it but being absorbed by it; as he no longer understood the words but was existentially drinking the essence- the words we're no longer there.
The sweet silence- since his ears couldn't hear any music, that those words created, had replaced the words. And instead of being grasped by his mind, the music grasped his whole being.
A book to be read by the heart, not by the mind. Something phenomenal not to be understood, but experienced.
The only book he had ever know which expressed the inexpressible, if you could tune in with the essence of it.
Was he sad? Was he in bliss? He didn't know. He was impacted by a transcendental essence of parables, circumstances and words. He had somehow allowed the book to come to life and alter his being. And that had him puzzled about what he felt.
Hours passed and his phone rang multiple times, only for him to notice that he was crying. He didn't know if it was out of sadness or immense joy.
He was at a place a step beyond himself, that he'd never attained before, so he couldn't understand it in terms of his old experiences, the vocabulary of all the languages he knew.
The book was incomplete, and he'd been reading it for over 6 hours. He walked up to the cashier and asked for the price. The cashier looked at the book, then made a call.
The book was left by a foreigner who was travelling around, decades ago. He left the book saying that he was leaving it for his family that would visit the place. And so, the book wasn't for sale.
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On his way back, he felt a great sadness. He was alive - but with this new experience, his life has become so mundane and meaningless, that he felt dead.
"Why was it impossible to feel this way before?"
A small step outside the confines of the mind and the starry sky was in his grasp.
Confined by himself into a small hole, being both the prison and the imprisoned.
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What would you do, if you reach home after such an experience- stretched upon your bed, with the feeling of the fragrant effulgence lost from your heart? Haunted by the memory of the experience, when you find yourself to be a stranger to yourself? Drawn away from yourself by threads invisible, languishing away for lost experience?
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The same life that he wanted to escape, wouldn't let him embrace it again. Webnovels, movies and comics; all updates and everything seemed to have lost their colour. Dinner felt nothing more than a depressive fuel. He passed through the late hours of the sun while experiencing his being feeling like a phantom, the world feeing inside out with no space within him.
He tried to somehow get some sleep but nothing made sense anymore. Some kind of mental paralysis took over, along with disillusionment from his future and cynicism towards everything he focused on.
Like someone raised in a foreign land who could never fit in, unable to fit back in home either.
He wanted to get back to how he was before, but his being had changed too much and he couldn't see any way forward either. It was a night of deep disorientation, with him constantly feeling like he was at the edge of falling into suffering.
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Hours passed with him trying to think of something, some sense of what had happened and what was happening. To find something that would work ‒ a way to work upon himself, a way to struggle and to do whatsoever can be done. But nothing was working.
But any effort itself seemed like a barrier, the very idea of a way seemed to be preventing a breakthrough, the very urge to seek seemed an obstacle.
But, it didn't seem like he could reach without seeking. Perhaps seeking was needed, but then it had to be dropped and replaced by something else. The boat was needed to cross the river but land was needed to leave it behind.
It didn't seem possible without effort, but with effort alone, it wasn't possible.
And then a moment came when he felt it was all futile, there was nothing that he could do. Feeling sheer helplessness, he gave up.
And something arose within him, out of nowhere but everywhere. The walls, the vaccum of the space, from his body, from the objects in his room and everywhere.
And he felt like he his self had no more concentration, no stability, no density, even though his body and mind were there with no issues or changes. It seemed that he had somehow haulted the processes of the mind that created him.
But he was filled with tranquility and peace.
And then, he felt like he couldn't stay awake anymore. Something was going to happen, something felt inevitable. Perhaps he was going to die, since nothing else would be as drastic as death.
His body fell asleep, but he was still awake. It was as if there was a tear.
And the part of him which was awake, felt an intense vibration, but one which was very different from to and fro motion.
It was a vibration from into this existence into another, and as the vibrations increases, more and more of the being fell into the other existence.
And soon, curtains were closed from this existence as the vibrations ceased.
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"Sometimes, people have nights where they encounter sleep paralysis. Often the mind partially awakens, but the body is still drowsed with sleep hormones, so the mind cannot move the body. It helps preventing things like sleep walking which are quite dangerous.
There are some activities that are going on however, that people can interfere with. For example, they can try to breath harder, since they aren't used to the quite slow rate of breathing that the body has when it's sleeping. If people have their face covered, they might end up thinking that they cannot breath due to that, and might try harder and harder. The body and the unconscious mind however actively resists against that, which makes people think that they are suffocating, or that they have a demon or ghost sitting on their chest. People in those circumstances end up falling unconscious, they wake up late in the morning, surprised that they are alive and then google if sleep paralysis can kill someone. Perhaps people do have a heart attack during their sleep when they are old, due to the panic from feeling unable to breath.
People should therefore train themselves to breath slower and slower when they have sleep paralysis, and patiently wait for being able to move.
When one dreams, they consider the dream to be reality and are unable to question it. It doesn't matter if the dream starts off at a surprising point, it somehow seems to make perfect sense to them. But when a person wakes up, no matter how serious the events of the dream where, no matter how captivated they were of the dream, the illusion shatters and they realize that it was just a dream, unless they believe that the dreams are a signs of God and assign higher epistemology to them than daily waking reality.
But anyway, often there is this experience of being aware that you have been dreaming and you want to wake up. But you have sleep paralysis, probably because you have a filled bladder and the paralysis hormones are working extra hard to prevent you for wetting your bed. Or perhaps you had very irregular sleep that night. But anyway, you know you're dreaming and you want to wake up, to make the dreams cease being important. And you're afraid of getting out of the dreams, but only to fall back into sleep, from which more dreams would pop up again.
And dreams are certainly troublesome ones when you have been having very irregular sleep."
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His vision seemed to invert and a starry blue sky greeted him.
The Sky that suddenly went out of vision, as if the lense have been readjusted, or perhaps broken to total darkness.
It was as if he had appeared at the rock bottom of existence, in a place of complete void and darkness.
He couldn't sense anything, no lights, no sounds, no sensations of any kind.
When he tried to feel himself, his own being, he felt nothing but total emptiness.
But then, he intuitively gave up trying and as he did, he felt a new sense- one of some divine tone of the body. But, the tone seemed scattered and fading.
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He didn't have any memories with him, since all of those imprints were left behind in the brain, something that didn't have any connection with him.
But he knew that if he faded out of here, he'd forget everything like a dreaming person forgets about being in sleep paralysis.
But, if he tried to not fade, he'd fade faster. So, he surrendered again, and as he did, he was able to sense the bliss he had obtain from reading the book again. And the bliss seems to have resonated with something outside, something beyond him.
Waves of something which felt very similar to the fading divine tone that was him.