Tuesday, November 18, 2014

In Which I Blather Excessively

I have been undergoing what some might call a crisis of faith for a couple years now.  I used to be nearly obsessive about the nature of reality, about seeing everything beneath the physical, about finding God within me.

I read a Course in Miracles cover to cover; nonduality dressed in Christian terminology--it changed the way in which I thought about the world.  It stripped away the insistence that I am here for something special.  It destroyed the me I always wanted to believe I was.

But now I'm empty.  Everything is empty.  The world is an empty masquerade. There is no joy to be had; there are few people who reach me.  There is also no reason to do anything.

I switched on autopilot.  I am sleepwalking.  I crave distraction and don't even spin my wheels in attempt to escape the rut I'm in.  Why bother?  There's nothing out there for me.

Some insist I need a relationship to cheer me up.  What then?  What would I do with a relationship except use it to dull the intensity of my isolation?  What can it be besides another distraction?  What are any relationships besides attempts at being special?

The want for specialness is still there, but I feel I am far too tolerant of mental noise, of permissiveness for useless things, and when the thoughts come, I talk myself out of them.  I don't try to talk myself out of them;  I ruthlessly excise them.  I am not terribly kind to myself.

And that's all there is to it.  I have no solutions.  I see no way out.  I'm stuck.