Why are we anchored to an illusion? Because we are not exercising our ability to choose. Thinking outside the illusion is Creating (giving); within it, it is the opposite: receiving. The mind operating within the illusion becomes a receiving instrument rather than a Creating instrument.
Our mind is constantly downloading information. That download is what we understand as “thinking.” The mind cannot stop downloading information because it cannot stop living. And what does this mean? It means that, just as it could not stop Creating in its natural mode of operation, in its reversed mode it cannot stop doing the opposite. So, when we think—which is basically all the time—we are continually receiving information.
We imagine that the information we receive comes both from outside us (what we perceive outside) and from within (what we perceive on our mind’s individual screen). The idea of an “outside” is part of the illusion and is, in itself, the illusion. There is no “outside” us under any circumstances, since everything we perceive, from any perspective, is a reflection of the contents of our mind.
With that said, what does our mind receive, or what can it receive? Two streams of thought—two packages of information—that are essentially opposites. We all know the first: the ego’s stream. What does that stream contain? Only forms of fear. It is a closed, cyclical system. It is the king of illusion and its fiercest protector.
Because it is cyclical, you can imagine it as rain: first, a cloud forms in your mind. At first, it is only an isolated thought, but when you begin to dwell on it, you give it strength until it becomes a storm. Then the cloud releases all that accumulated rain: that fear begins to take shape in what you experience. And what you experience seems to confirm that fear, so you feed it again.
Yet since God understands neither storms nor any form of fear, because none of it makes sense to Him, He offered another stream of thought that is not cyclical. And because it is not cyclical, it always brings something new or new ways of interpreting perceived reality.
It is as though you had two radio stations playing at once or were watching two screens at the same time, something we already do regularly these days—for example, a phone and a television.
Continuing with the two-screen analogy, imagine that we have put the news on one of them: a mixture, in equal parts, of disasters, calamities, and absurdities. That screen is essentially about fear, and its only aim is to encourage it.
Then there is another screen, just to the right, playing some kind of documentary. One of those highly informative programmes that hardly anyone watches because most people find them sleep-inducing. Since both screens are on at once, you have to choose which interests you more and turn up its volume, drowning out the sound of the other.
When you give the ego’s stream a great deal of power, you choose the screen that appeals to morbid curiosity because, at first glance, it seems more “exciting” than the other. So, from the content you receive, you choose what you want to watch. This determines, in turn, which content you are accepting and validating. And what you validate becomes your reality, or the closed circle you conceive of as your reality.
Those who eventually grow bored with the content on the left-hand screen, because they come to understand that it is pure, meaningless rubbish, try the screen on the right. At first, they are not particularly enthusiastic about it either, but as they watch, they begin to understand and appreciate what it teaches.
Watching that other screen is what I would call “sitting in the Holy Spirit’s chair,” but it would be the same as seeking the Light within you or the Truth within you.
What you watch or listen to remains your choice.