Every moment empty of your presence is a moment made sterile and fallow.
In Buddhist practice, you learn that there is no “I” you can point at. Your “I” is in the space to experience. And that gets us right down to the personal core of personality.
We are not bricks in a wall, cells in gods brain, as amusing as the concept might be. We perceive ourself to be people and individuals for a reason, but what is that reason? When a little child declares that something is “mine!”, what are they actually saying?
It is part of them. They don’t understand property. Yes. What they do understand runs deeper that the superficial perception of property. If self is a badge you can own, a magick ring that no one else should have, then how can we actually live and be whole? What happens when you try to define yourself as that special ring?
It becomes not me.
You feel guilty for lying.
You become invisible. You get lost. You lose choices and free will.
My preciousssss. What has it got in its pocketses? String or nothing? What is your personal inventory? Anyone own fire? Anyone own the sun or moon? You weren’t given a limited inventory, no one was. The soul is like an infinite holographic recording of the entire universe.
So since this is true, then how do we tell me from you? Personality is non-local. It comes from everywhere, goes nowhere, but how do we know it exists?
We have names and faces and small things that are give aways that you’re not an imposter. I don’t have myself convinced that I am Travis. I seriously suspect that I am a mushroom growing under a cow patty.
But you are not Travis. He is only a name tag. Self is without limits, but it is not without form.
Self is not personality, is it? Self is not personality, but personality is made of self.
Ever look at a picture of a snow flake? I mean a real one. Whenever ice forms it strats by a shift of energy in the atmosphere, and this ever shifting pattern of energy is for our purposes formless, endlessly complex, recursive, like a fractal landscape, or an infinite mandala.
And what is self? All there is? Self is a seed, a star, a locus without spacial dimensions, a singularity, literally. Something reduced to pure existence, like one of those points of energy flux in the sky I mentioned.
So my personality is a crystallization of energies including but not exclusive to the energy of self? Yes. I build my mandala so to speak? Well, you give rise to your mandala. It’s more innate like a finger print than a self portrait.
All there is, is composed of seed and its manifestations? Perhaps better than seed, chaos, primal fire, the prima materia of alchemy, god if you prefer.
The deep? Yes, indeed.
But there is an element of creativity in it? There is an element of creativity, but the element of creativity arises in the interaction between any set of personalities. You can’t paint without paints, sculpt without a medium. If I paint, the personalities involved are me and the paint, and even maybe a subject of the image I intend to make.
So the creativity is in the expression of our personality? Yes, indeed.
Or our personality is the expression of creativity? Our personality is the agent of creativity, and transcends creativity itself.
Your thoughts are welcome. Be well friends.