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The illusion that is aware of itself. The attachment to detachment. The crucifixion that allows rebirth. To die to the “I” that thinks it is, is what allows what ever God is to be. The letting go of what I’m holding onto allows me to know what I don’t know. The reflection that sees itself in the mirror. The falling apart & coming together. The destruction of “I” and the birth of “what is”. The selfishness of Love that only wants to feel itselfimage

I think and observe the thought as I think it.

As “I” thinks, “what is” observes the thought that thinks it is.