Every moment there are objects of experience – all of them say I, all of them are me, all of the are temporal and impermanent – all of them are temporary passing essence – my only true essence is “Nothing”/the space/the background/the unborn/the unmanifest infinite.
Various phenomena are objects too. Various gestalt phenomena are objects too. Life is like an ever changing painting in space where objects form and get colored with my projections and my projections/perception/coloring keeps changing and moving. The objects too change and move with different speeds.
Everything is as it is, is perfect as it appears – This is because everything is empty (just like every picture your computer screen produces is perfect, because all pictures are empty). The only thing in existence are objects of consciousness/experience. It’s like simply a flowing river of objects of experience. The objects of experience that we hold on to appear to stay, the objects that we identify with appear to stay. The rest of the objects flow like a river at different rates/speeds. But ultimately even identification is changing, even ego is changing. The only unchanging true essence is NOTHING or FREEDOM.
I always wondered in my childhood, all my memories, could they have been any different. Could I have been different, done differently. The answer is no, all the experiences were exactly as they should be – The experiences themselves AND the phenomenon of the ego forming/changing and (resisting, dissociating, avoiding, channeling, projecting, identifying) into some parts of the sensory and mental experience. To make a final abstraction, everything can be seen as arising and passing objects of consciousness.
This is exactly like a dream. Isn’t a dream perfect in retrospect when you get up in the morning? Wasn’t it exactly what it was? Isn’t this whole experience we call waking exactly like a dream too? When the waking state aggregates/formations pass away, after death say, wouldn’t we look back on everything just like we look back at our dreams when we wake up in the morning?
Journey to the Abstract 