Creativity: infinite illusion... etc.

Another notebook ramble from a couple of years ago...

Creativity is an illusion. Everything exists, everything grows from Source. Source contains - or rather is - everything that is, that will be, including the thoughts of what might be possible. "There's nothing you can do that can't be done," said the poet. Everything you can think of, everything you believe you are creating already exists as part of the Source which contains all forms, including you and your feeling of creativity. To say 'already' is even misleading because Source is greater than time - contains time, and exists before and after the idea of time, and the idea of existence also. One quickly runs out of words to describe That Which is Beyond Thought.

My thoughts about creativity usually focus around writing. I think of the pencil touching the paper. The tip of the pencil tapers into a finer and finer point. Where is the point where it touches, if one takes the old formula of dividing in half the distance between pencil and paper, and then in half again, and again and again? In that way, one will always be halfway there, though the fractions approach the infinite (a useful metaphor for dualistic thinking).

I digress.

Consider it like this: the pencil comes to the fine tip that touches the paper at one end, and at the other it is connected to my hand, my body, my brain, my spirit, my inspiration, up, up, up to the infinite Source of all. Infinite - do we know what that means? The Infinite does not exist in only one direction (Up? Down?). There can only be one Infinite: how could there be a border between one Infinity and another? An infinity divided by two is still infinite: the borders are meaningless. So the pencil comes to a fine point at one end, and expands to infinity on the other. The paper itself exists as part of that infinite; the events that brought it into being, the particles of which it is made are, if not infinite, innumerable. So the pencil is writing on itself, through the medium of consciousness, the human writer. The universe is turned to look on itself through us. We are the narrow part of the continuum that tapers down from the infinitely large 'around' us to the infinitely small 'within' us. Wherever and whatever we are, we are the centre point between two infinities: we are the point where the pencil touches the paper. When we look at each other the All is looking at itself. When you look at another person, you see the representative of the All, the Universe, the Highest Self, God. The Highest Self? Yes - your highest self, looking back at you. That is why, however you treat the Other, whether it's an embrace or knife in the throat, it's the way you treat yourself. There, in the Other, is everything that you are part of, looking back at you.

All eyes are mirrors. All images are reflections. "All in all is all we are."