Is consciousness a product of our brains, or is it rather pre-existent, a kind of dynamic emptiness to which our brains tune in? My experience is the latter, although I would not use a noun to denote it. Whatever consciousness is, it is transitive, not objective. It is the broth from which the primal soup is born, a broth without flavor or consistency until we sentient beings pop up to taste it. Ironically, we are actually just another ingredient in the soup. My senses carve out apparent objectivity and my mind classifies and qualifies it--but the whole thing is just an already dripping ice sculpture (including the sculptor and his ice pick) destined to resolve back from whence it came. I am of the soup, of the ice, and just as ephemeral and insubstantial. My conditioned body-mind tells me that I am a coalescing morass of perceptions and conceptions, but that "I" is every bit as illusory as the objects it creates. The real "I" is just a naked "am" without subject or object. The true I is its absence, the great wide open unfettered and never fettered, unadulterated freedom and bliss. Words fail me here, as they must fail in any attempt to convey the ineffable. I can only point, and even then the pointing is just another veil. Your going to have to trust me on this until you open to it yourself.
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