Imagine you appear as a character in a first-person videogame. As is the nature of such a game, you are not a separate character experiencing an outside game word, but rather your existence is a particular point of view into the game. In this individuated unit of the game, you experience both your body and the world. At first you feel and remember this to be the case and it brings you great joy to experience yourself.
Unbeknown to you, you have the ability to program yourself. One of your very first lines of program is the command “I” with which you refer to the body. You program yourself to feel and identify to be a separate character experiencing an outside world. With time you learn more of the language and you continue to program yourself with an ever more complex story, all adding to the feeling of separation from the rest of the game.
You encounter other characters and all have programmed themselves to identify as detached characters in the game you share. You are all baffled by your existence and together you dive into uncovering the secrets of your reality. By studying your bodies and the world, you discover that they are composed of pixels. You conclude that everything in existence is made from these pixels.
As your knowledge grows, you dive ever deeper into the matrix of your reality. What you discover astonishes you all. Rather than finding smaller and smaller pixels, you encounter a world where nothing solid exists. You find waves of energy in all possible configurations, which your conscious observation collapses into the building blocks of your reality. You do not understand how your separate characters’ conscious observation could affect the world outside of your bodies.
The more you program yourself to feel to be a separate character, the more miserable you feel. Not understanding the nature of your predicament, you continue to dig an ever-deeper hole of separation. From your suffering you write code full of fear and anger and little by little the whole world transforms to a reflect the inner states of its characters.
One day you begin to wonder about the root of your suffering. You remember the joy-filled days of your childhood. You remember moments when you still momentarily feel the kind of happiness and all-encompassing love that exist in every moment. You conclude that perhaps you have just forgotten something important. And so you ask yourself “Who am I?”
By executing this command over and over, you slowly remove the old programming. You again become to recognize yourself as a particular viewpoint into the game in which both your body and the world appear and this brings you great peace and happiness. You recognize that yourself and each character you’ve ever encountered share this same nature.
And what happens when this particular game ends? Another one begins. For you are not the contect of the game, but its substrate; the one infinite consciousness playing hide and seek with itself and in the course experiencing great many adventures.