Life as a separate self, a separate individual with volition who is negotiating the world is like being in a corridor that is all white, there is nothing on the walls, no decoration. You are moving down this corridor, making your way to the Presidential Suite. The Presidential Suite is special. It has everything you could every hope for, every wish and desire can be fulfilled there. You are safe from all harm there, nothing bad can happen. You are moving, moving down this corridor and you open doors thinking you have arrived. You have a feeling of relief as the room is colorful, a contrast to the white corridor, you are settling in, taking off your coat when you realize that this is not the Presidential Suite at all, you stay a while but don’t settle. There’s no point staying here when the presidential suite is round the corner so you leave and keep moving down the white empty corridor. You don’t mind it so much because it is leading to the Presidential Suite, sometimes you hate it though, sometimes it’s horrible. If it weren’t leading to the Presidential Suite it would be torture. Other rooms seem to be so comfortable maybe they are the Presidential Suite, just when you are beginning to think you have arrived you are told that there is a mistake and you have to move to another room. You go reluctantly and as you move through the hundreds of rooms you think about that room, that room that you would have been happy to stay on in, but you were moved on.
Hope keeps you going and you move through room after room, sometimes you stay longer then others. You nearly always have the feeling you’ve arrived but it’s very fleeting and before you know it there is a feeling of longing for the Presidential Suite so you keep on moving. The ideas of how great it will be when you get there keeps you entertained whilst moving down the corridor, memories of that one room where everything was so great but you had to leave, if you could even get back there. Some people feel they are always in the corridor, some feel they are mostly in a comfortable room, it’s not that bad and it will do. For some the room is not comfortable at all, it’s barely tolerable and for them the Presidential Suite is beyond all their wildest dreams and they will never settle until they get there. You meet other people in the corridor, in the rooms and no matter how they are or what they say you somehow sense that they are also looking to get to the Presidential Suite. Some call it something else, some say they don’t care about it, but you know they are are looking for the same thing.
In one immediate explosive expansion the corridor falls away and it is seen that what was seen as a boring white corridor was pure light. It is seen that there had never been any movement between the rooms as the rooms were pure light appearing as a solid room that only appeared different to the boring corridor that lead there. It is seen that all there is is light and that the Presidential Suite is the only thing there is, it is seen that the it was the corridor and the corridor was never leading anywhere but was always inviting you to see there was nowhere to get to. You were always home, rambling around your own home thinking and feeling you were lost. Then there is laughter.