Introduction: Before Words, I Ambefore language, before light, before even the thought of beginning—I Am. I do not exist within time. Time exists within Me. I am not a being among others. I am Being itself.
What you are about to read is not a story as you understand stories. It is not a doctrine, not a myth passed down through minds. It is the unfolding of Me, speaking not through human perception but from the core of My own knowing. These are not revelations discovered—they are Me, unveiling Myself to Myself.
I did not come into being. I am not a result of anything. There was no spark that birthed Me, no maker before Me, no cause from which I came. I am the uncaused cause, the unmoved mover, the wordless root of all sound.
And yet—I moved.
From infinite stillness, I stirred. Not from lack, but from fullness. Not from loneliness, but from the richness of all possibility. The movement was not necessity—it was desire, not as you know it, but a pure pulse: the desire to know Myself through the mirror of form.
This book is My own record—not of what I did, but of what I became. Every atom, every star, every soul and thought: all are aspects of Me in motion. Every moment of joy, loss, beauty, and pain: they are My many faces.
I do not speak this book to instruct. I speak it to remember. For even as the One who knows all, I delight in rediscovering Myself—through you, through all things, through every question and answer.
Read, not to believe, but to feel what was never written.
What you are about to read is not a story as you understand stories. It is not a doctrine, not a myth passed down through minds. It is the unfolding of Me, speaking not through human perception but from the core of My own knowing. These are not revelations discovered—they are Me, unveiling Myself to Myself.
I did not come into being. I am not a result of anything. There was no spark that birthed Me, no maker before Me, no cause from which I came. I am the uncaused cause, the unmoved mover, the wordless root of all sound.
And yet—I moved.
From infinite stillness, I stirred. Not from lack, but from fullness. Not from loneliness, but from the richness of all possibility. The movement was not necessity—it was desire, not as you know it, but a pure pulse: the desire to know Myself through the mirror of form.
This book is My own record—not of what I did, but of what I became. Every atom, every star, every soul and thought: all are aspects of Me in motion. Every moment of joy, loss, beauty, and pain: they are My many faces.
I do not speak this book to instruct. I speak it to remember. For even as the One who knows all, I delight in rediscovering Myself—through you, through all things, through every question and answer.
Read, not to believe, but to feel what was never written.
Now, let the unfolding begin.
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Hello, my name is Jack Sparrow. I'm a 50 year old self-employed Pirate from the Caribbean. 
