Ego: False Self (Part 2)

These are the things of ego. These are the constructions of form. These are the superficial particulars that represent my external perceptions of self. These are the lies I tell myself to help me feel more real; to help me see myself the way I want to be seen, because in truth we are more vast than we could ever conceive; so this is a way to make me smaller, more precise, more defined; as someone once said: "Like a pristine polished Christmas ornament" beautiful and made to be adored. Adore me!!! I scream it in the timbre of my laugh, in the affection of my touch, in the meanderings of my intellect, in the overflowing of my honesty, in the way I quantify God, and in those I choose to date. The reverberations of my need echoes in the voices of those I allow to call me "baby", and in the eyes of the preciouse few I attempt to call friends. I surround myself with mirrors; edifying pieces of the finest crystal that reflect my perfect sense of false self.

I am God, but I do not know it. I am presence manifested in the flesh, but I cannot feel it. I am the totality of creation, but I cannot get past what I was. I am the culmination of a tragic chronological compilation that now calls himself "Beautiful", and is terrified to be seen as anything other than that, so I hide my track marks with Tiffany bracelets, burry my former homelessness below beautiful hardwood floors, and obfuscate the nights of being everybody's whore with genteel gentlemen who treat me like a queen. I have been reborn into this . . . And though painted with a brush of enlightenment, supported with biblical scripture, easily referenced with something that Oprah said, and flowered from the deep toiling of higher thinking, it is still ego; still vanity; still a limitation of the whole, and (Borrowing on the philosophical writings of "The New Earth") still a part of me that "needs" to be. . . The part of my fleeting unconscious that fights to be recognized, acknowledged, and validated.

But Truth needs no validation. . . So perhaps I am not being truthful. Perhaps my authenticity is limited by my ability to only be cognizant of the linear perceptions of an unperceivable self; and all the nouns and adjectives and metaphors and allusions and theories and intense metaphysical dialogues that I use to define myself are not me at all, but who I want to be; and consequentially who I force you to tell me I am if you choose to love me. If I let you love me. . .

Love me.
Adore me.
Top me.
Drive me.
Pay my way.
Open my door.
Pray to my God.
Tell Me I'm Beautiful.
Tell Me I'm Brilliant.
Read this List of Books.
Be Smart.
Be Successful.
Be Perfect.
Be White.

These are the requests of my wounded psyche, made to souls that share my space; needed to make me feel more full. But if I am abundant and fundamentally the equivalent of all, then they are merely mitigating mental techniques set up to make me feel special; Unique; Different from everyone else, and separate from the omnipotence consciousness of God. It is time for the Walls of Jericho to come down, and for the protective partitions to fall way. It's time to pay your on way. It's time for you to be your own man. It's time to stand in the presence of who you "actually" are; without labels, descriptors, or qualifying characteristics. It's time to let the ego step aside and to stop choosing men based on their ability to make you feel better about who you are, but rather based on the fundamental question of: Do they make you FEEL?