Wherever you are right now, notice everything that seems to be happening: the thoughts, the feelings, the sights, the sounds. Look around and notice everything you can. Everything that you see is actually what you are. You are all of this, including the noticing. You might think that you’re just some of the things that seem to be happening. You might think that you’re just things that seem to be happening inside the body that you call yours.
It’s actually very obvious that you are everything that seems to be happening. It takes a lot of effort to continually try to parse what seems to be happening into two conceptual buckets: “me” and “not me.” It’s a task that can never be completed and that can never even be done very well. Things are continually getting dropped into the “wrong” bucket, and then what seems to be happening is irritation, sadness, and fear.
You can’t stop this pretending because you are everything that seems to be happening, including the pretending. Trying to stop pretending is the same game: “I am not the pretending.” You’re also the pretending, until you’re not. It’s okay to pretend; it’s what children do. You are a child: a sweet, innocent child playing a meaningless game.
What seems to be happening is not even personal. The table is not personal. Even when you are arguing with another person, there are simply two bodies, both filled with emotions and thoughts, and words are flying and there are sounds and the whole thing is occurring inside a space. You are the bodies and the feelings and the words and the sounds and the space.
You are not all of those things in combination. You are not all of those things at once. You simply are all of those things and all of those things are you. You are having an argument with yourself, inside yourself, about yourself, and for yourself. It’s so wildly beautiful and simple. It’s like a perfectly balanced piece of artwork that seems to keep changing.
Everything that seems to be happening is always a perfect expression of love.