5. Measuring the Purity of One’s Being
...Sometimes, I just don’t know. Sometimes? All the time? It may not be a matter of frequency. How often? Is it important?
It’s nothing to think about so deeply. You’ll get used to it. You can get used to anything.
Shut up. Shut up. Stop.
What? Stop what? I’m not doing anything.
Yes, you are. You are.
You’re imagining it. I’m not doing anything. No one is. I won’t get in your way. Because I understand. I’ve been through this, too. Okay. You should try calming down. Take a deep breath. Nice and easy.
I can’t control my pulse. It beats whether or not I do anything. I can’t stop it by my own will.
My breath. I can control my breath. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Stop.
Stop. Stop. Stop. Hold it like that. Stop. Keep holding it. Does it hurt? Well, it’s fine. You’re okay. You won’t die. No, that’s an imprecise way of saying it. That’s not enough for you to die. Your life is like a heart. There’s nothing you can do about it yourself. Soon enough, you’ll come to accept. You’ll gradually begin to understand. What all this is. Right? Right. You can get used to anything. So long as you’re living.
Living.
It’s best not to contemplate whether this counts. That’s something everyone’s thought, after all. It’s stupid to repeat the same thing over and over. A waste of time. Some feel it’s okay to waste a little time. Well, sure. I suppose it might be.
Stop.
I’m not doing anything. Nothing, really.
Stop.
It’s nothing to worry about.
Stop.
It’s like a heart, after all. You have time.
Stop.
Stop.
Plenty of time. Time to adapt. You can accept this. Because you have no choice but to. There are easier ways, too. It might be all right to choose a simpler path. I’ll teach you. If you want to know.
What?
...What is it?
I can’t say I recommend it.
Yeah. I don’t recommend it.
But it will make it easier. Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Breathe in.
Does it hurt? Then you can stop.
Give it up.
You don’t need to control it.
You can throw it away.
—What?
What can I throw away?
You know, don’t you?
It’s your self.
My self?
It’s fine.
Nothing bad will come of it.
Well, of course not. You won’t even be able to feel things are bad anymore.
It’ll be easy. It’ll set you free.
You suffer because you think you are there. Affirming that you are there every moment, it’s pretty exhausting, isn’t it?
Because you have to keep affirming it.
Like stabbing yourself with a needle.
Prick, prick, prick.
It’s a thin needle, so holding it is a lot of effort.
It’s possible you may drop and lose sight of it.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
Your self.
With each moment, that needle stabs into the back of your hand somewhere. There’s no need to work so hard. It’s a lot of effort, right?
If you get tired, you can rest.
Don’t push yourself, rest.
Rest.
Rest now.
Rest.
Come now, rest.
Stop.
I open my eyes. Even if it’s dark, I can see. Take a breath. Breathe.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Even if I can’t control my heart, I can control my breathing. I can sense it. That I am here. The one controlling my breath, that is my self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
My self.
With each moment, I affirm my existence, like stabbing in a needle.
I exist.
Here.
I am here.
Someone look at me. Hear my voice.
Feel me.
Hold me.
Please.
Sometimes, I just don’t know. Sometimes? All the time? It’s not a matter of frequency? How often? Is it important? It’s nothing to think about so deeply, I think. Because I’ll get used to it. I can get used to anything. At this rate, I will end up getting used to it.
So look at me. Hear my voice. Feel me. Hold me. Please.
But I don’t want to use you like that.
I am impure.
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