I can barely drive. I have no spatial sense. Something is driving but it’s not me.
I can barely talk.
No one is there.
I feel so much all encompassing being swallowing every appearance.
With zero to no differentiation.
Any little piece of different that arises is quickly transcended into the soup.
It envelopes everything and I’m fighting to exist.
To find form.
A context.
Something I can hold on to.
It’s deleting everything I know.
I scramble for connection.
Panicked thoughts arise that I’m losing myself and I need to go out to find someone or something to feel myself in.
Is it exhaustion? Did someone slip me a psychedelic?
Do I need to rest when this happens? What does it want?
I went out to find form. To dance. Socialize.
All it did was add more stress to the struggle. I was watching myself trying to exist…
I wasn’t winning.
I allowed myself to cry out the pain of not knowing. Not existing.
Of having no connection.
No form.
Of the world disappearing. Something that I sense is there but I can’t access. Of feeling all reality slip through my fingers.
Pushing it away makes it worse.
Diving into the direct experince of the disconnect and embracing it I feel overwhelming love and connection.
I feel the mission in its entirey and everyone I love all at once.
A compounded dedication to what is real.
And a flavor and depth of love that fills me to the brim with joy and peace.