There is a universe inside you that humans will neither derive nor deliver the likeness of. It is a living place of histories, purposes, methods, senses, and intelligences. It has a sky whose stars know your name.

This inward spiritual dimension is not like the stories we tell, but nearly no one has realized this because the stories we tell are what we use to see with and, not realizing this, when we get the stories before the experience, the experience is remade in the image of the stories. Then we can no longer acquire an authentic experience of what we, ourselves, carry within us.

Problematically, these stories often comprise what are, effectively, preservation-bodies for biases; and it is deadly for our inwardness to take on these likenesses. Perhaps more shocking, most of the popular stories are actually aggressive mimics of this inner universe, and want to deliver not enlightenment or development but domination.

To survive, they must recruit. They need people to accomplish their ongoing expansion, systematization, advertisement, defense… effectively, they want to use you and your hope of conscious spiritual experience as a vector of transmission for their contagion. These stories can be reasonably understood as weaponized ideological viruses. And we use these to discern and talk about something far too sacred for words?

Over time we are remade in the likenesses of such stories, led by powerful streams of cultural history, force, invitation, and deprivation.

There is a universe inside you that is nothing like the stories the humans are telling. It is beyond all stories. This living library is at once common to all beings and unique to you, personally. It is a paradise of assets, expressions, abilities, histories, anniversaries, and developmental opportunities.

But it is not really much like the stories the humans tell, and this is not all that surprising when you get right down to it, because, after all, neither are you.