I often need courage, waking up every morning in a cold and dark world. The old colours have been replaced by something without magic. The warmth I feel and the light I see are physical in nature.
This world would be very alien to my mother. She ventured a little into the world of questioning faith, but her devotion to God and Jesus and conformity was always present. Only the church as an institute was questioned, not the Christian metaphysical world.
Devoid of their ‘could-be’ nature, things are what they are: nothing more, nothing less. There is no expectation, there is no theory of all, there is just that: experience and form.
One thing has remained, and sometimes makes it worth to live. I experience a force I call love-compassion. It is not always expressed, in fact it is often not seen at all. But it exists in my world of such-ness. It goes through all levels: physical, emotional, mental and intuitive, and possibly above.
My existence is a surrender on the mental level: I already stopped reading books several years ago – once you have read more or less 50 important works on existence, there are very few new ideas in any other book you read on the subject. Recently the final conclusion that I will never know the answer to most existential questions, came both as a surrender and as a liberation.
About God: I will never be able to prove existence or in-existence. About an afterlife: Either there isn’t one, and I will never know, cause I will cease knowing when I die, or there is one, and then I will know behind the moment of death. Never before.
The frustration on the mental level might continue to scratch my soul, although for the moment I’m not aware of it.
There is the freedom to venture into levels beyond the mind, and experience whatever there is to experience. Unfortunately, mind will never be able to validate such experiences, since they will be confined to me alone, and will probably not be reproduceable.
If I ever experience oneness, who will tell me that my oneness is an objective experience, and not a dream. Will I be able to touch you during my experience so you can tell me later by phone what happened?
Regardless of that frustration, there is no other way to go, which is the way of the farmer in the X-mass tale “Dreamsnow” by Eric Carle. Doing what needs to be done, and having fun now and then doing so.
Although a majority of people will never understand me, I might be able to touch some of them in my eternal here and now.
Merry Christmas to all