I had some very extraordinary experiences today… They were glimpses of what life is like after ‘my’ extinction. It’s very hard to put this into words, Richard described the actual world in such meticulous detail and yet the words alone do not do it justice, the actual experience of it is a different thing altogether.
In fact I wasn’t going to write about it because it seems that I can’t 
(not very well anyways) Yet those experiences happened, it was a world where no ‘being’ ever existed, where the past, present and future never existed either, a different world altogether. And this world is all that actually exists, all of ‘my’ life amounts to a feverish dream, but even this dream… Did it ever happen? Where did it happen? Because only the actual world genuinely exists. To land in the actual world (with nowhere else to possibly go to) is an unimaginable relief, it is truly inconceivable, it has to be lived to be known.
Just before those experiences happened ‘I’ was seen to never have been genuine in the first place, this is what precipitated them. One second ‘I’ existed across the past, present and the future, where apparently ‘I’ ran the show, then next second ‘I’ was fascinated by the fact that none of ‘my’ life ever took place. Indeed that ‘I’ am an errant and vainglorious brain pattern, ‘I’ never did anything of substance because ‘I’ was never genuine. But with ‘me’ having never been genuine there was an entire new world that opened up, except that I saw that eventually there will be no ‘me’ and no reality to revert back to. That once the door back to reality closes behind me, that it would have never existed in the first place, how bizarre! But this is exactly what guarantees such incredible safety, again the words don’t seem to do it any justice…
What Richard referred to in one of his correspondences as the “utter fullness” which is ‘calling one’ each moment again, this utter fullness is infinitude itself, the fact that only the actual world exists. The direct experience of this is just beyond words, hence I wasn’t going to write about it initially as I figured that I just have to go ahead and live it.
There was also this fascinated thought that although ‘I’ never did anything of substance ‘I’ am nevertheless the only one to make the decision to allow ‘my’ self-immolation, again utterly bizarre. A passionate illusion agreeing to ‘his’ own demise.