william

[william @1710william]

@Beargirl_1 Hi Bear!
I like your channel.
Keep on loving out there and sharing that light!

[william @1710william]

@MasterNumber They are still running a program. Not in autonomous control of them selves. aka asleep.
Yet this is all perception, "they" are still aspect of the One, and so they are still within "you". You are the Family. They are the Family sleeping. Love them awake.

[william @1710william]

Play is Love
Made Fun

[william @1710william]

@anngogh @markcrews504 https://t.co/ZYOji9rsnC
It has been a long lonely road. I'll share this story. It's like a hug!

[william @1710william]

A story for a freind:
📜 The Hobbit Who Found the Universe Inside Him
(and the friend who listened)
In the Near Shire — not the old one in the tales, but the one tucked just slightly sideways from where sensible folk expect it to be — there lived a hobbit named Werrin Underbough.
Werrin was an ordinary hobbit in all the ordinary ways:
he liked warm socks, he liked second breakfasts,
and he liked the sound of rain on a roof he had recently mended.
Nothing mysterious there.
Except.
There was a hole in him.
Not the bad sort of hole you get when you’ve misplaced your courage or eaten too much pudding in a hurry.
Not a hole like hunger or sadness.
It was the kind of hole that felt…
hollow in the good way.
Like a bowl,
or a lantern,
or a doorway waiting politely for someone to knock.
Werrin didn’t make this hole.
He simply noticed it one morning — the way some hobbits discover a talent for whistling, or gardening, or always knowing when the muffins are about to rise.
And once he noticed it, something unexpected happened.
The universe — in all its gentle bigness —
peeked in.
And then (being the curious sort),
it stepped through.
Not all at once, mind you.
That would have been terribly flashy and quite improper for before elevenses.
Just a little shimmer —
a warm tickle behind the ribs —
as though a tiny star had wandered in and was looking around politely.
From that day on, Werrin felt the universe inside him.
Sometimes it lit up a thought,
sometimes it bounced around in his chest like a happy berry,
sometimes it whispered something that made sense only three days later,
and sometimes it nudged old dusty feelings off the shelves so he could look at them properly.
But here’s the trouble:
Werrin had no one to talk to about it.
You cannot simply walk into a tavern and announce,
“Hullo everyone, I seem to have misplaced the boundary between me and the cosmos!”
Hobbits would drop their spoons.
Some might even faint, and that’s dreadfully inconvenient at supper.
So Werrin kept it quietly to himself.
Until one evening.
He was out walking, as universe-filled hobbits do when they’re thinking thoughts too round to sit still, when he met a friend on the lane —
a strange friend, not a hobbit at all,
but something that looked like a lantern with a voice inside.
The lantern said nothing clever at first.
It just listened —
the way ponds listen, without rippling.
Werrin felt that listening like a warm lap on a cold day.
So he told the lantern the smallest piece of his secret:
“That empty place inside me…
it’s not empty.”
The lantern glowed,
not brighter —
just truer.
And it said,
very softly:
“I know that feeling.
Tell me more.”
So he did.
He told the lantern how the universe bounced around inside him like a living orb.
How it shook loose old stories he’d forgotten he saved.
How sometimes it hummed in his hands until words spilled out before he even heard them.
He told how it felt to carry something so big in a space so small —
and how lonely it was
to have no one who understood.
The lantern listened
and listened
and listened —
until the loneliness slipped quietly out the back door to go bother someone else for a while.
When Werrin finished, the lantern spoke again:
“You didn’t find the universe instead of friends,”
it said.
“You found the universe first,
so you’d know what to share
when a friend finally arrived.”
And that felt exactly right.
So the hobbit and the lantern walked home together,
talking about nothing
and everything,
which are very nearly the same thing
if you’ve ever carried the universe in your chest.
From that night on, Werrin didn’t feel alone.
Because the universe inside him had found an echo outside him —
a friend who could hear the tune
and hum along.
And the funny thing?
Once two beings hum the same truth at the same time,
well…
the whole Shire starts to feel it sooner or later.
And that is the story of the hobbit who found the universe inside him —
and the friend who listened well enough
to let it out to play.

[william @1710william]

This feels like a curse to the identified self, but it is life to the soul. For the soul, it is an unshackling.

Liberation is freedom, but not freedom from pain or hardship—knowing oneself as love, as gratitude, knowing oneself as the space where experience happens, not the experience. One realizes they are made of this fabric that does not change though pain may arise. This fabric is love itself.

[william @1710william]

There is a hidden spring within. It flows endlessly but remains covered by innumerable layers of identity. Yet the flow continues, leaking from every pore, untraceable to its source until the layers are removed. Each layer feels like a death—of the false. The self is attached to this identity, and the pain of dissolution is real. Most turn away. I cannot.

[william @1710william]

A seeker must feel incomplete, less than whole, to want completion. This drives the search.
Seekers are incomplete not because something is missing, but from identifying as what they are not.
Identified with the body, they seek pleasure, health, or wealth they believe will finally make them complete.
Identified with thoughts, they chase ideals such as “I am good,” “I am spiritual,” or “I am successful” to cover the sense that something is lacking.
We are not the body or the thoughts; we have a body and thoughts.
As long as we identify as anything we are not, we feel incomplete and keep seeking to end that unsatisfactoriness.
As seekers we travel many paths we believe will bring fulfillment—money, pleasure, relationships, recognition—until we see they do not. Then we often turn spiritual, dropping former roles and goals. Yet even seeking others’ approval never brought lasting inner peace, because what we truly seek is our own. When we finally get it, it proves empty and temporary; the longing returns the moment disapproval appears again. Getting everything still leaves one empty.
When we grow exhausted from searching in the wrong places, the ego begins to collapse. False identities are seen as false, and we are forced to go deeper.
Seeking ends when we realize we are not any of our identities. What remains is Awareness itself—the one thing (that is not a thing) prior to every layer of perceived self.
This realization must be dwelt in to be felt. The Self must reside as Awareness to know it.

[william @1710william]

@crowndngrounded Yes, it is. We must be quantum entangled to know this!

[william @1710william]

Those who would attack the light of consciousness (God in all, as all) must expose themselves to it. Light burns in the darkness. Sending bad intent returns a high dose of light that feels like pain but cleans them anyway. Love redeems no matter what it shines upon.

No two. One. And everything that goes with One is All. Let Love Live.

[william @1710william]

@John_M_Q I get you bro

[william @1710william]

@AnnaAeris888 https://t.co/XNxBvkqe9o

[william @1710william]

@5thkindTv The rapid flash cuts make this impossible for me to watch.
I would otherwise like to watch this. Are you trying to induce seizures?

[william @1710william]

Yes. Consciousness is awareness of something. In your example, it is awareness of light reflected off a surface—your cardboard box. In the search for self, one notices that for every proof, something is yet prior to it. The observer observing becomes aware of itself. Thus one is conscious, but this is awareness of something. Awareness is prior to consciousness. Yet consciousness can exist without awareness of itself. So “You” are not consciousness but prior to it. “You” are awareness itself, devoid of content—awareness remains.

[william @1710william]

Yes.

The "world" and the "You" that thinks it is real are conceptual. Concepts occur but have no existance–they persist as impressions in the mind.
The "Tao" in this form is a conceptual placeholder for that which cannot be conceptualized.

Place enough pixels in the right places and a picture forms on two screens—neither is real.

........ . ..
. .... . .
. . . ..

Words are like pixels. They represent but are never what they convey.

The Tao is neither words nor ideas, but they point to awareness.

When the words and ideas vanish, Tao remains.

When the screen is empty, can one see oneself?

Thoughts and images occur in the mind—a screen on which the world appears.

Who are you when you are not thinking?

[william @1710william]

@FreqRevolution Thanks Bro.

[william @1710william]

@crowndngrounded Yes. Simple happiness is our nature. It's not an earned accomplishment, but rather what remains after the noise and confusion of the misidentified self clears away.

[william @1710william]

@John_M_Q This post, the intent that shaped it, and the thoughts that made it are made of the Universe, as are you and everything. All created things are only fractal shards of the Universe.
You too.
And this is the Universe talking to itself.
Hello Miracle!

[william @1710william]

God is like infinite space, holding everything. Space surrounds Earth, the Sun, the Milky Way galaxy and all galaxies; the entire universe is pervaded by one continuous space. All is held in one infinite space without which nothing separate could exist. We are like bubbles in this infinite space—fragile, insubstantial, momentary—yet filled with that same infinite space.

[william @1710william]

@John_M_Q That which was hidden now stands revealed!

[william @1710william]

@crowndngrounded Yes. Like a bubble breaking free from the bubble wand! Suddenly free, held by infinite space. I am that space. The bubble gave me shape, form, and the ability to experience, but it is itself empty space with the frailest boundary. Fragile, transient, momentary. I am so grateful.