I want to share my philosophy, I’ve fostered recently though conversation with my friend.
No matter what you’re going through, God loves you so much, and I don’t mean this in a religious sense. I mean something far greater than that. Imagine being an infinite entity, and possessing all knowledge and all experience to such an extent that you can no longer feel or savor any of it. Imagine the person or thing you love the most, you know them, you know their scent, their presence, every detail of their being, but you can never experience them. That’s what reality is before entering the physical world.
The only way to experience what you love is through limitation, through contrast. This is the law of comparison. Love cannot exist in a field of apathy so it requires something to push against, to distinguish itself from. To be human, there must be animals. A cow is not a human because it stands apart, by being different, it makes the category of “human” real. In the same way, joy is only understood in relation to sorrow, freedom in relation to confinement, abundance in relation to scarcity.
Without opposition, experience dissolves into sameness. Without loss, love is numb. Without time, eternity is static. The physical world is the stage where infinity fractures itself into pieces just so it can feel itself again. Love, pain, beauty, ugliness, birth, and death all exist to make each other real. That’s the cost of experience, and the gift of incarnation. I grew up in Sufism (and Christianity), which is still Islam but approached in a far more spiritual and inward way. From an early age I was taught that God isn’t a distant figure to be worshiped (kind of) but an infinite reality that can be experienced directly through the heart.
I also have a very close Indian friend who has deeply explored meditative states with me, so what we call “the void,”is what she has been teaching me about the three walking states of consciousness. In many Indian traditions these are described as:
• Jagrat (the waking state), where you experience the external world through your senses.
• Swapna (the dreaming state), where you experience inner worlds and impressions.
• Sushupti (the deep sleep state), where the mind dissolves and only undifferentiated awareness remains.
Beyond these, there is a fourth state, Turiya, pure consciousness underlying all three. Her explanations have helped me see how these states overlap with what I learned in Sufism about remembrance, annihilation of the ego (fana), and subsistence in God (baqa).
I’m not religious in a formal sense because God is truly infinite and expanding and my being is already rooted in that reality naturally. It makes no sense to outsource my power or my connection to the divine to someone else. The essence of what I was taught, and what I continue to explore with her, is that the divine is not a hierarchy you climb or a gatekeeper you please. It is an infinite presence you already are, and the work is simply remembering.
I don’t care, and have never cared, to argue for non-dualism, LOA, or shifting as belief systems. Shifting was simply what first drew me into philosophy, but the deeper I’ve gone the more obvious it has become that you can do whatever you want because that has always been in your nature. I understand it may seem trivial or naïve, and I know people suffer.
I also know the next question is usually “why not just manifest for me?” Even though I want to believe I could manifest on your behalf, it would violate the same principle that protects your own free will. If I could override your path, then you could override mine. Do you really want to live in a reality where that’s possible? A reality where, without shifting, we could simply respawn Hitler at will? Did Ted Bundy “manifest” his victims? If someone kills you, were you “manifested” into their violence? These questions expose the absurdity of treating manifestation as a literal power over other people.
What actually exists is a global consciousness, the main source of all source energy, divided a billion times into individuated lives so that experience can occur. In this division we get polarity, friction, war, and tragedy. Collective consciousness produces collective conditions; when we see war or systemic cruelty, we are seeing the our shared consciousness playing itself out on a massive scale. But at the same time, within your own individuated strand of consciousness, the world remains your oyster. You can choose your subjective experience, your perception, your probabilities, and your internal state.
You do not know what tomorrow holds. At any moment the truth can be remembered, and when it does, all suffering will dissolve from your awareness. What once felt heavy and unbearable will reveal itself as something almost laughable as a mirage you carried because you did not realize you could release it at any time. Time itself is not real, it is a construct within consciousness, that even on physical level has no “reality” to it.
I accidentally shifted recently to a reality where aging doesn’t exist in the way we know it. At the end of high school you’re brought to a kind of ceremony where you choose: remain a child forever or become an adult forever. I already knew, deep down, that I would choose to be a child forever, but most people don’t really know until the moment comes. Watching everyone crash out emotionally before the ceremony was surreal to me because, from that vantage point, it doesn’t really matter. Especially if you choose to be a child, it’s like knowing the ending to your favorite movie in advance the suspense is gone, so what should be left is a strange kind of peace, but everyone was crashing out.
No matter where we take our awareness, contrast always travels with us. Even in a world without aging, you still have to experience difference child vs. adult, past vs. future, known vs. unknown. That contrast is what gives experience texture. Without it, choice would mean nothing and identity would blur. In that sense, shifting doesn’t erase the mechanics of consciousness; it just changes the scenery. The fundamental rule is that awareness needs polarity to feel itself and that always remains the same.
Life is a game. At any moment you can step out of one game or begin another. Suffering gives the game its sense of solidity, its illusion of gravity. Hardship, delay, and frustration are what create texture, what make existence appear dense and “real.” Yet the moment you awaken to the fact that you are playing, the weight of it all loosens. You can stand up, restart or try a new life entirely.
The world in which this game unfolds is so huge you can’t even comprehend it. Earth contains nearly eight billion people, more than two hundred nations, thousands of languages, and ecosystems ranging from deserts to rainforests to polar ice. It spins at roughly one thousand miles per hour at the equator, races around the sun at sixty-seven thousand miles per hour, and belongs to a galaxy one hundred thousand light-years across. That galaxy is itself one among billions in the observable universe, each with billions of stars and uncountable planets.
Time, identity, suffering, even the physical world itself are scaffolds within awareness. Once this is seen clearly, the game shows its flexibility. Nothing compels you to continue playing in the same way. The possibility of reframing, restarting, or transcending is always here, always available in the present.
Yes, Your pain is real, but so is the opposite side of what you’re trying so hard to remember. Every feeling of despair sits next to an equally real potential for relief, clarity, or joy both exist in the same field of awareness. I don’t know what you’re going through, and I’m not claiming there’s a higher purpose hidden behind it. Sometimes suffering is just suffering. What I am saying is that whatever story you choose to tell yourself about it about who you are, what it means, what will happen next is still only a story and therefore it is not absolute nor final.
I understand that this may sound like I’m romanticizing your pain, but I’m not. I’m pointing out that pain feels like an ultimate truth when you’re inside it, but it isn’t. It is an experience moving through you, not your totality. When you shift even slightly out of identification with the story, The opposite side will becomes visible. You realize that nothing is as permanent or absolute as it felt.again, this isn’t me minimizing your suffering or telling you to look for a hidden lesson, please don’t take it that way. I am reminding you that whatever narrative you’re holding even if it’s bleak is not the only one available.
Whatever method, belief, or worldview you choose to accept is still, at its core, an identification with limitation. It is a way of saying, “I am only this much. I am a fragment. I must follow this path to become whole.” Yet the world has always been yours. Existence has never been withholding itself from you. Why would you incarnate into a body whose entire purpose is to argue with itself about its desires, its worth, or its power?
This self-arguing is the residue of conditioning. It is what happens when infinite awareness forgets its nature and begins to see itself as a finite individual. All the rituals, philosophies, and systems of belief are attempts to re-open a door that was never locked. The “search” only exists because of a temporary forgetting.No one is here to suffer as a permanent state. Suffering is a contrast, a teacher, and an experience that dissolves the moment you stop believing you are trapped inside it. Beneath every pain is the same awareness that was there before the pain, the same limitless field you were before you were born.
When you stop arguing with yourself, when you stop negotiating with your own desires or power, you return to that field naturally. You don’t become infinite; you remember you already were. In that recognition the whole drama of limitation loosens, and the world which was always yours is seen without the veil of struggle.
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