Meditating in seated position, cross-legged on the bed. 100X as usual.
I feel the room around me and my sleeping wife and dog as all being inside my mind, in my head, not "out there" in any way. Even my head, is all in my mind. I sense many of me, many such rooms, splashes of me all over, dashes of me everywhere. I sense the room around me and my body as being part of the same thing, being one with everything else.
I've been getting this for a while now, all the time. Last night was the most clear, easiest to recall.
Then a subtle shift. The room, my body, my wife, the dog, all of these things are now seen as they really are, as thoughts, descriptions of themselves. I sense that we are all descriptions, stories if you will. We are all each collections of data, thoughts, and that is all we are. We exist within what can only be described as a *mind* but not like our minds, far vaster, containing all "things" within itself, all such collections of data that describe all things, in a sea of data describing our surroundings. Everything that exists, is thought, is data. I feel myself as words, descriptions, thought, data. Everything is like this, nothing is not like this.
I feel waves and ripples in that sea of thought, waves that move through my room and through my body. I feel the thought that comprises me, my personal collection of data that describes me as different than anything else, my "body" if you will, be penetrated by these waves; they flow through me, and the "stuff" that is me, "waves" and ripples along with them. I feel the substance of my body being not substance at all, nothing like a substance, everything both inside me and out is insubstantial.
It hits me; nothing truly exists as we believe it does. Only mind exists, only being, and within that mind we are collections of data, of thought. Basically, we are the sum of the thoughts that describe us.
My body does not exist, my wife does not exist, the world does not exist, except within our minds, which are within a vaster mind, much like programs in a database of some sort.
This mind we are a part of has always existed, it is the default setting of all reality, the most basic level of existence. Since it has always been, there was no single point where creation started.
So what is it about me, about this collection of data, that feels like a person, that feels like my self?
From what I can sense it is a part of us that is self-descriptive and self-referential both. I describe myself to myself and believe it, then I constantly reinforce my reality to myself in an unending descending spiral of self-affirmation and belief.
For some reason, belief is very important to existence. I often sense myself battling in deep meditation with my own ability to believe, adjusting it 'just so' much like one would adjust a radio dial. Too much belief, image is lost; just enough and you can see the story play out. Belief is more than we think it is. Far more important to existence than we know.
I've had unimaginable battles deep within myself trying to fine-tune my own belief so as to attain understanding of my own mind. Adjusting my belief in whatever it is I'm sensing, a little more here, a little less there, to be able to see it manifest to myself. What I sense about belief is that it underlies all reality, so then it can be said that a disbelief in such things as I seek to understand here, would absolutely prevent us ever even beginning to see it.
What I mean here is, yes, it's absolutely true: A disbeliever in these things can never see these things, but instead will see whatever it is they believe they will see.
A scientist would accuse me of hedging. No. I truly sense that in order to sense what reality actually *is,* one must first believe that whatever it *is,* is at least possible. Why have I seen the infinitely malleable, deceptive, belief-dependent nature of reality? Because I believed it to be possible that reality is like that. Why do I think it might be true? Because unlike all other options, this option explains all others as well as itself. If I tried believing in such a thing and it manifested itself to me as it did, then it also explains all other options, all other possible manifestations of reality, from science to god, for such a reality is infinitely *deceptive* in nature.
It explains Maya, which has so effectively deceived us all.
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NOTE: *THIS* has just come to my attention. It relates.
