We think something is wrong. There are no feelings anymore. A strange place to land. A short time ago, we felt everything. Then we feel nothing. The outside world goes on without us. A displaced quiet fills us. It could be described as peaceful but the uneasiness of the void makes us unsure. Peaceful triggers guilt for not “caring” about the world. Which has become as real as a television show. It’s not our world. The only way to leave it, is to completely detach from it.
We never knew how much the drama weighed us down. It should feel natural but it doesn’t. Not to our human aspect. It wants us to mourn what we left behind. The world that we no longer live in. The images that seem to us “other worldly.” It’s not our space anymore. It’s no longer our home. It becomes a façade.
No one really understand this space until they reach it. The part of the process where we disconnect from it all. We see it for what it is. Perhaps, more appropriately we see it for what it never was. Our human lives were never happy. The happiest moments we had, were the ones where we escaped. That vacation we took to the beach. The moment we witnessed the pure innocence of a child. The first time we felt real compassion for someone. That moment of pure joy. That was not our everyday human experience. Those were the exceptions to the rule. The fleeting moments that seemed to fade away too quickly.
Why didn’t they stay longer? Happiness and joy were not frequencies we could hold. It was not our ego’s natural state. Funny how we kept striving for “happiness” but could not hold it. It was the outlier. The anomaly in the program. The glitch in the matrix. The moments that never belonged there. I suppose that’s why we remembered them.
There are points where we look for crocodile tears. Anything to feel connected again. Then we understand that a connection to a distortion is not a connection. It’s a prison. A prison that we locked ourselves in. Only opening the door briefly to let rare moments of peace flow in. We thought those moments were the reward for our suffering. We thought that if we kept playing the “game”, that was the outcome.
In retrospect, we see it was another reality bleeding through. An alternate reality that didn’t rely on a few sparse moments. A reality composed of those moments. The moments that really mattered. The moments that feed our soul. Then it flips and those other moments become the glitch. The fear, powerlessness, greed, grief, shame and blame become the rounding error. The remanence of a reality that’s dissipating.
That’s why the tears don’t come. We have compassion for the participants in the human realities. We use to be one of them. They were our partners in crime. The misery index we gauged our realities by. Those realities are no longer ones we fight for. We rejoice in leaving them behind. Our ego will try to convince us that we have lost our humanity. Quite the contrary, we found it.
We stop the urge to mourn once we realize there is no real loss. We are in the space of seeing our human realities for what they are. Not what we wanted them to be. What’s that saying, “you can put lipstick on a pig but it’s still a pig.” That’s the illusion of the life we are leaving behind. We no longer want to try different color combination. We want to walk away, dry eyes and all.