Getting REAL with the play of life
Getting REAL with the play of life [excerpt from GAME]
This book is saying who you think you are is not real, that ‘self’ is only a made-up character in a made-up game.
And it is saying that apparent reality is only ever a game resulting from the settings of that character.
That is quite some statement to make.
It sounds a bit insulting actually. A bit dismissive. Well actually seriously, rudely, uncaringly dismissive.
Because we might, at this moment, be thinking of who we are, all the shit we’ve gone through, all the effort and struggle that has made us who we are. All the stuff of self that we have fought to like and the stuff we are still battling.
And we might be thinking of the reality we are in that is hard, exhausting, depressing and nothing like a game.
And we might be thinking of all the things we love - the people, places, animals that it seems this Game idea might be denying.
And this is why this book might be discarded. Because the current settings of the character and therefore The Game do not allow it in. There is no space for this message. There is currently no receptor to meet this information.
And that’s OK because The Game isn’t real anyway. It is not a ‘thing’. It does not have to be changed or got rid of. It is just what is appearing.
In The Game, the character is going through all these trials and tribulations trying to secure itself, to make itself real.
And that can never be achieved.
Because the character can never be real.
And the appearance of The Game is only ever extensions of the main character appearing as other forms.
So the character is searching in the mirror of itself for what will make it real.
And it can never be found. Because the character is not real.
In other words, The Game is hiding everything that The Game has been set up to find…
That’s the cosmic joke.
That’s why the Buddha is laughing.
How do we know though?
How do we know that the idea of self is an illusion? How do we know that reality only appears as it does through that illusory filter?
We know because we can’t find the self. We can’t pin it down. It can’t be found anywhere. When we ask ourselves, ‘Who am I?’, we can’t find anything in the self that is not transient.
It is an idea that constantly changes. New information means that it changes in every aspect.
There is no such thing as the self. It is only ever a momentary creation. It is only ever a ‘character’.
And we know that reality changes accordingly. That all reality is filtered, coloured, interpreted, made real by this self that doesn’t exist. So reality is only ever apparent reality. A reality that is the creation, distortion, restriction of an idea of self. It is temporary appearance according to the illusion of self.
That’s how we know.
The self is not real.
Reality is only apparent.
Bonkers isn’t it?
And yet totally sane.
It is just that The Game of self is so cleverly designed to keep the self intact that it cannot be seen.
So who are we then? If we are not this idea of self? And what is actually real?
There are lots of different words for who we are and none of them do the job because they can only point to concepts and meanings that will change. But try these words on for size:
We are life itself.
We are being-ness.
We are consciousness.
We are absolute.
We are infinite.
We are love, freedom, joy, peacefulness.
We are the room in which The Game is being played, that remains exactly as it is, regardless of the drama on screen.
And that is so much more obviously who we are than this limited crunch of tight ‘me’ ideas. Deep down, way beyond all the identification with an illusory ‘me’, this is known. It’s known, isn’t it?
And what is reality?
Reality is the apparent reality experienced through the character. Everything is filtered through that lens. The more dense the character, the more real the character seems, the more distorted the viewpoint. As the character lightens, ‘what is’ becomes less and less distorted.
It is clear how the world can shift from bleak and ungiving to helpful and kind as the character shifts.
So what is reality then if not seen through this distorted lens?
It is simply ‘what is’.
Some might say it is a miracle. The perfect arising of life, love, beauty and joy in form.
And that is so much more obviously what reality is than how the world looks when we are feeling most defensive and protective of this idea of self.
And that is what we are and what the world is.
Just sometimes that is hidden by The Game.
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