The Existence of Another I

[The_Tired_Philosopher]

So, again, whats the point of it all?

Should one not marvel at beauty and wonder how and why it is?

I tend to ponder this while reminding myself that any concept worth being "the point" of all this is probably not something my monkey mind will be satisfied by.  In other words, the third density human consciousness that asks the question is not designed to hear the answer; that consciousness is merely a vehicle, and instrument for a deeper part of me receiving the answer.

But that's not satisfying at all?  Yet who says the point is to be satisfied?  If your car is "satisfied" it is at rest, and cannot move you around.

How is a resting car not as satisfied as an idling car or one running at 6k rpm gliding burning asphalt underneath its skidding drifting tires?

I think satisfied is dependent, my monkey brain recognizes that it may potentially hear the truth and just as childishly ask 'why' to even that not realizing that it isn't a question that requires the question of why, but perhaps something more subtle and sincere than a broad-ended overall at all questioning of.

It's why I still seek, hoping.

http://llresearch.org/transcripts/issues..._0919.aspx

Its a bit more complex but simple? The last half of the transcript, Quo offers some advice for finding out if a character is real or fictitious.

So you meditate on the character and if they seem to have a life of their own then they are real?

Basically what happened for me.  My antagonist Alio and my protagonist Skyla were the most animated of the characters, doing basically everything without any input on my own, in fact I found trying to make them do what I wanted led to them resisting in a subtle way, like a clashing of wills.

Furthermore, my protagonist Skyla turns out to be another version of myself, who is working on a book with myself as its protagonist.  The few interactions when she responded to me in meditation and outside of meditation I'm still pondering over as to an overactive imagination, or something more.

Ironically, when I asked her if she was real, she repeated the same question to me, wondering if I was real too and not just a figment of her imagination.

Kind of makes me feel figmenty since I have no way of being able to prove I'm real.

Which in itself, is kind of scary honestly.