Absolute Consciousness
There is something remarkable about awareness that escapes our notice: when we are not conscious of our own existence, we have no way of knowing it. Consciousness is binary, either we recognize our being in this very moment, anchored in the simple knowing of I Am, or we do not. There is no intermediate state, and no signal to alert us when we have drifted away.
Consider sleep. While sleeping, you cannot observe that you are unconscious. Recognition comes only upon waking. The same principle governs our waking hours, though we rarely see it. We may spend entire days navigating life on autopilot, making decisions, holding conversations, while the deepest recognition of existence remains dormant. Only in rare moments of sudden clarity do we realize: Where have I been?
The Absolute is unconditional being, awareness existing without reliance on thought, feeling, or circumstance.
We occasionally touch this recognition through unexpected encounters: a moment of startling beauty, the heightened presence of physical exertion, or the shock of sudden news that shatters our thought-stream. These experiences briefly awaken us to what we are beneath the narrative. But they are fleeting, and we spend most of our time with attention flowing outward, toward tasks, worries, the endless procession of thought. This outward movement is not the problem. The problem is forgetting there is anywhere to return to.
When disconnected from our fundamental existence, we unconsciously seek to fill the void through external means. We pursue validation, accumulation, stimulation, anything to ease the persistent sense that something essential is missing. Yet this is like trying to quench thirst by painting pictures of water.
Perhaps most elusive are the activities that appear to lead toward consciousness but actually lead away. Spiritual practices, study of texts, philosophical speculation, unless their sole purpose is guiding awareness back to immediate recognition, they too can reinforce the outward focus. We can spend years accumulating spiritual knowledge while the simple recognition of "I Am" remains untouched.
The path back is not complex, but it requires understanding this asymmetry. Since we cannot rely on noticing when we have drifted, we must create regular opportunities for return. A single question, asked frequently throughout the day, cuts through whatever narrative has captured attention:
Am I aware of my existence right now?
This is not philosophical inquiry. It is direct pointing toward immediate recognition, a momentary opening in which, if we do not rush to fill it with thought, the knowing of existence can dawn. Not as an idea, but as undeniable presence.
Over time, these moments of recognition begin to extend. The gaps between forgetting grow shorter, not because we prevent the drift, but because we return more frequently. Eventually, the recognition becomes less like visiting a distant place and more like noticing what was always here, waiting patiently for our return.
You can also ask yourself whether the people you meet on your path are aware of their existence, and if not, when they last were. You will realize how exclusive, how infinitely precious this moment is.
Are you aware of your existence right now?