We create the world we inhabit. We create the tree and the flower as much as we create the weapon and the hospital, the doctor and the soldier. Everything we observe we create; it exists only because we experience it and ceases to exist when our experience ceases. Others experience what we experience because we create others as well; we’re not solipsistic creatures in the sense that other minds may not exist. Our mind, too, is just the lens of a camera through which we observe and create. We create others just as much as they create us. Because they are us and we are they.

We are the mother and the father, we are the lost love, and we are the newfound one. And we live our lives in despair, thinking we're responsible for making our own existence worth it or meaningful, but one thing we should learn: we observe and create, but we’re not in control.

We think of ourselves as the painter who reproduces reality, choosing the brush, the stroke, the color. We’re the brush, we’re the stroke, we’re the color; we fabricate reality as the painter chooses, we have no will to express nor desire to satisfy. We just live on canvas for as long as the sun allows us–and then we fade away, leaving a forgettable memory of what we have been.

No action precedes the other; the act of observing creates the observer, which needs to exist to experience the act of observing and create itself. All in this circular motion that has nothing to do with time and linearity, because reality is cyclic as seasons and what once was, again will be. There is no past, and there is no future. There are memories and there are hopes; we are not in control of either. All that there is, is now.

The act of thinking transcends time and positions itself as a non-logical proposition; thought creates the illusion of time because, although it develops in the absolute present, it requires continuous stimulus to become conscious. We cannot think of thinking without linear thought. But that is a limitation we have to compromise with when we embody our human forms; we cannot view thinking as an act that precedes thoughts. But that’s what thoughts are: an ever-evolving continuum of small absolute present moments of pure awareness focused like a lens refracting the sunlight on a dry branch.

We are not in control because the present just happens. We observe and create its representation through our senses. Some days we live brief moments of realization that push us toward the illusion of taking control and cutting the Gordian Knot–little acts of bravery or altruism, to feel the illusion that yes, we did it, even if it was hard; we really feel like we did it, don’t we?

At the end of the day–which from what we know, may as well be the end of our experience–we have to recognize the most uncomfortable of all truths: there is no self. There is no “me,” and there is no “you.” There’s only pure existence without boundaries of any kind. For all we know, there’s only a single absolute present. The very next moment may be the end of our existence. The previous moment an illusion we created so that we could observe and delude ourselves into thinking that tomorrow will come. We cannot know that for sure. Because there’s no “we” to start with.

The only moment of pure bliss we can achieve comes from the greater realization that there’s no self to detach from. That you are creating these words as you’re reading them; that you are your loved one because you are the one who is loved. That you are your mother and your father, and that you are with them right now, because you are them. That you are the son and the daughter. That you are your sister and your brother, your teacher and the student. You are the worm and the vineyard.

Om Namah Shivaya