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Moment of Creation

Updated on March 21, 2020

I remembered it somehow... like a vague childhood memory you might have before you could even speak. Before there were words to express a thing. Before there was a concept of a thing or of meaning or even a realization of darkness. Darkness would convey meaning but there was no meaning. There is no meaning. Meaning is fabricated by thoughts. There was nothing and even calling it nothing is to lose sense of what this was. It was All but it was nothing. And in the nothing is all that is now existing. Eternal and without form or energy even.

Was it the start of time? Was it a great pause? Even I can’t remember that now. I don’t remember anything now at all. The use of words is a pathetic tool to convey the moment. To consider it a moment is an injustice to what it was. It was a moment where nothing had changed yet everything had changed. It was a beginning of an end. It wasn’t even another beginning although maybe it is a cycle? If so, it is more like a reel of film where all the moments exist on that media but can only make sense to us fools that now conjecture about such things if the movie is played frame by frame and projected so our eyes and ears can take in what that reel represents. Even that would be a meaningless example. All we have is words and thoughts and beliefs and these simply are not enough to explain my "memory" or to answer the questions we desperately want to answer. But I know that the answer is simple and within all of us. This I somehow know. We all somehow know. We know that the answer waits between each breath and is something we experience millions upon millions of times within this short fleet of existence as this person that we now believe we are.

I’d say before it was it wasn’t but I don’t think that is true. I can feel the memory but I don’t have the right instrument to play to pass it on to someone else. It is as-if it always was but there wasn’t anything yet at all... not even a thought. A thought would take a medium to hold it and there was none to etch it into yet. Maybe there was a realization for awhile that came and went like a wisp of wind? Maybe it persisted like a great beacon? Of this, I can not recall from whatever it is that now posses me. That which posses me now best described as a waking dream, although I’m embarrassed by that attempt to describe something utterly indescribable. Maybe there was a realization for just the shortest amount of span of something that could be? Or was? Or maybe it was what we’d consider millions or billions of earth years? Mostly, I think, they were the same. That is my sense of it.

But I feel I can remember that there was a point when there was the moment of realization that there was something to be realized, the “I am”. And immediately after that, the millions of questions on what that meant. Without language, without words, without thought or memory or a feeling of even an awareness – there was the realization that “I was”. I was what? I have no idea. But I was aware. We were aware as I was not alone but we were all one. All of that which is now the Universe that we are aware of and so much more of the Universes we are not aware of as the insects of intellect we are now. And once aware there was no going back to the peace that was before that thought. The bliss of not being aware at all. The speechless comfort of unknowing, of not existing – the lack of any awareness of the paradox of being. And there was no escape now that the awareness was there.

And the whole of creation unveiled without sound and without perceived light and without form or meaning. Like a child dizzied by turning in circles along with the unmitigated joy of the moment. And the awareness was full and everything was one creation and one being. As it is now although we have lost that sense of Oneness and all the molecules believe they are the ones who first had this moment of that realization. But they didn’t – yet they all did. And there was nothing but light spreading that could not be seen because there were no forms to capture it. Nothing there yet to block the light to reveal it. Brilliantly bright and the darkest that dark could be at the same time. But it changed and evolved now that a timeless time had been started and would be counted and measured by creatures who are unable to comprehend without the use of this lie of Time. The Universe was growing from the point of awareness with a brilliant light that would be dark to the eyes of the creatures that crawl on this planet now. But be not mistaken that there was nothing but light and an energy growing and a Will unleashed that had no agenda.

And I sat on my bed and tried to reclaim the memory of that point, that moment – that moment of eternity where a second and a million years are the same and have no meaning at all because there isn’t even context yet. Unsure of how I stumbled on it even though I know it is my core and is exactly the me that I search for. The me that has been lost by the ideas this person has collected and rehashed and tried to make sense of. It was a glimpse of a time that feels long since passed and declared now by science to be billions of years ago and for some reason that conjecture makes me smile as I would smile at a kitten that just found amusement in a ball of yarn.

I seem taken by a memory and the core of the memory is that of a waking dream. The point when your slumber ends. When you come back from not even knowing you were there at all and you wake up. You realize the “I am” of your existence. And you pull back on the heavy dirty clothes of your memories and experiences and become what those collections have made you believe is you, when it’s not. The you is now as it always has been, the you is the observer. The buzz that is your being. Your core which isn’t of the body or the mind but instead is the thread that runs through you and throughout you and webs you to the entire Cosmos. The you, you don’t see because your collection of thoughts has won over reality and made you believe you are a person when you are now and always have been Everything.


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