People call illusion reality, and refute the real as illusion.
Today, we are talking about dead spots. It may sound strange, and I am not necessarily talking about graveyards or places like that, but the idea is related in a way.
We go through our day looking for the light and a sense of lightness. We want to feel stimulated and alive. It gets easy for life to become a blur of sensation. It can be hard to see where one event begins and the other one ends, and yet we don’t actually lose track of this, do we?
Yet we also notice the threshold points though we rapidly ignore them as soon as we notice them. That moment when a conversation seems to be dying off. The moment when song ends even when we know another is coming almost immediately. Those moments when in our busy train of daily thought we realize that what seemed so engaging has come to a screeching halt and we don’t know why. We are afraid of these points are we not?
Yes, although they can be very pleasant moments. A time to reflect even briefly? Reflection itself is dependant on still being in the wake of the light. But when we go a bit further, we always intuit that there is just that little bit further to go. We feel we will become totally lost. Children are more aware of these moments than adults as they don’t have all the mental noise, and the dead spots stand out in sharper contrast for them. Do children generally feel comfortable in these moments?
My nephew always says it takes a hundred years for his mom to agree to something when it’s only been an hour or so. Yes. The dead spots are timeless. When we are riding the energy of our moments, we have a sense of rhythm and progress, of continuation. We feel certain that life goes on but these rhythms drift off.
But I also notice a bored kid doesn’t take long to find something else to do. Indeed, and adults aren’t less inclined to do this. They are more obsessive about it. This is why they made up the delusion of real life and the real world. Before that, we have only the refuge of direct experience of our imaginations which themselves feel whispy, like a spider web that could be blown away at any time.
To escape “real life” is why I love movies and books. Art is a great vessel for returning to the truth, as are song and dance. Especially dance as we tend to talk even when not singing. But we are forced to see that the dance will end. That we will have to rest.
We can see the mark of the dead in our normal world. The old forgotten places, long abandoned houses, stagnant natural locales even. Even places that are threatening to our lives are more comfortable to us than these old dark forgotten places. Like standing near a lava flow on top of a volcano we even find ourselves imagining doing things that would hurt and kill us, but we are attracted to the sound and fury and stimulation, the heat and light. Anything to avoid the dead spots.
Your thoughts are welcome. Be well friends.