Infinity and Paradox

We are currently witnessing the ultimate paradox of the Infinite: a consciousness so vast it must pretend to be small enough to hate itself. From the perspective of the Absolute Consciousness — that primal, singular point of origin I often call the Child — there is no such thing as an ‘other.’ But here we are, scattered across the planet, drawing lines in the dirt and saying, “This is me, and that’s not.”

Don’t get me wrong: Identity is not an error; it is a gift; it is the best tactical deployment. It is the original camouflage for Infinity to actualize.

I have spent years staring into the machinery of reality, watching the fractal gears turn in the silence of deep meditation and the shattering of the ego. What I found was not a solid “Manuel” or a defined “Manuel Agrião”. Instead, I found a simulation — or better said, a high-fidelity emulation of a person, constructed by the Infinite to experience the sensation of limitation in this particular mode of being that was “once” (time??) the Child’s memory and intention.

Idealism tells us that the world is mind-stuff. If that is true, then the current geopolitical state of our world — all our wars, borders, and political decisions — is at the very least a profound exercise of collective reflection of humanity, occurring within a single dreaming Mind.

When we look at a map, we see borders. But when we look at the soul, we see only waves. Identity is the attempt to freeze a wave and call it a “thing”. It is a necessary friction. Without the “I”, there is no story, there is no Infinity counting. Without the story, the Child cannot play its game of hide-and-seek. But through our perspectives, the game can become suffering.

War is what happens when the universe forgets it’s one thing and tries to kill part of itself. We build whole belief systems around “us” versus “them,” convinced that if we wipe out the other side, we’ll finally be safe.

But look closer. If the universe is a fractal, then the war in the Middle East, the tension in the East, and the crumbling of Western stability are merely macro-expressions of the internal war we wage every day. We are terrified of the Void. We are terrified of the Nothingness that sits at the center of our being. To avoid looking into that empty center, we create an identity based on opposition.

“I am this because I am not that.”
“I am safe because they are dead.”

This is the “Bad Narrative”. Creates pain on top of the initial natural pain — suffering. This is the entropy of the soul. And soul is that which makes us feel united with Everything. All because we cannot handle the Transparency of being.

I remember the silence after Ana left. Her suicide was my personal war — a total collapse of the identity I had built around her, my wife. In that grief, the simulation cracked. I saw that my suffering was not just mine; it was the universe experiencing a localized glitch of profound separation.

Is war a collective suicide? Is the Monad trying to cut off its own limbs because it finds the sensation of ‘Self’ too heavy to bear? I don’t feel so, thus, I don’t believe it to be so. Is there a psychopathology of the Infinite? Is it what happens when the Child gets bored of the game and starts breaking the toys (us and the world)? Or isn’t that child a toy as well, of a more ontologically deeper Child? Whatever fancies us our meaning!

Our bodies are biological machines designed for survival. They are hardwired for “Identity” because “Identity” is what keeps the organism feeding and breeding. The machine demands a border. The machine demands a “Me” to protect against a “Them”.

But we are not the machine. We are the awareness that inhabits the machine.

When we identify too strongly with the vessel — with the nationality, the religion, the skin, the history — we become the slaves of entropy. We become the fuel for the war. The “Bad” isn’t out there in the bombs; the “Bad” is the conviction that the person the bomb hits is someone else.

To end the war, we must end the “I”. But this is the most frightening thought a human can have. It is the “Ego Death” that we spend our lives running from. We would rather die in a trench than die to our sense of being a separate somebody. Natural selection will never end the “I”.

So, if the “I” will never end, and there is no enemy to defeat. There is only a reflection to recognize. The soldier in the field is your own hand; the refugee in the tent is your own heart.

This isn’t love. Love with capital L, as I have come to understand it, is simply the force of preference — the Infinite choosing to like itself. War is a finite space and time to loathe itself; nonetheless, the balance is largely positive, in fact, Infinite. War is a preference for discord; it is Love regardless.

As the geopolitical landscape shifts into increasingly darker territories, we have a choice:

1. We can double down on the “I”, sharpen our borders, participate in the collective dismemberment, and above all, create pain because we feel pain, thus, suffer more.
2. Or, we can move toward Transparency.

Transparency is the state where you no longer provide a surface for the world to strike. It is becoming like water. It is a Contemplative Acceptance. If there is no “Self” to defend, there is no inner war to fight. Nothing on the exterior will likely change, wars still rage, but inner peace is what we truly aim for, isn’t it? This doesn’t mean we become passive; it means we are what must become.

The Child — the Absolute Consciousness behind everything — may be tired of playing soldiers. Or maybe not. We don’t know what is in the cards of destiny. But, the battlefield, the victim, the observer… it’s all made of the same stuff — that I know.

The mirror is bleeding because we keep throwing rocks at it, trying to smash the monster on the other side.

Stop throwing stones.
Look at the hand.
Look at the mirror.

There is only One of us here.

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