Thinking… is far easier than other activities. One only needs their own mind, and the rest can be achieved. Problem… the uselessness of it.
Don’t let it be an addiction. It haunts you. You go to depths that ruin you. You actively engage in tearing your mind apart. A thread keeps being pulled, but there are two being pulled at once. The mystery, and your sanity. Dissected. Both of them.
You can reach such a lunacy. Constantly scared. Going back. Trying to make more connections. Often you realize there are no cracks in your logical foundation. They just appear to be so. You could have saved hours, to be with loved ones, to engage in something different, hell to even just enjoy the little things. There are so many. We should.
Sometimes I have tried to think what it would be like if I am dead, or more so a specific possible outcome of death. Nothing. When I first began this activity, I didn’t know what I would stumble upon. I didn’t even know how to go about it. How does one know nothing? Grasp it. Not just to have no sensation, but to feel it.
Each night we go to sleep. We don’t know anything. But we don’t even know the lack of it. It is just lost. Nothings recorded. We might as well have died, and then reborn. Besides, in all truth our mind is still alive. Slow, but there. We just can’t remember.
I was trying to achieve the opposite of sleep. More akin to meditation now I think, but a step further. In meditation you still are. I was seeking not just the destruction of the self, but the complete dissolution of thought. As if my mind was under an fMRI for a split second, and they saw no activity except in a few processes that record memories. The few that sense our internal being.
Consciousness… dissipated. That’s what I wanted to feel. To know.
I am flabbergasted right now. Two questions are popping up in my mind. Why I did I do this? Fear of death likely, and a willingness to take it head on. How did I do this? I thought I had no idea.
I remember when I achieved it though. I was in my bed, as often. Even now as I write this, my feet are cozily tucked under my comforter. I do enjoy the little things, but sometimes it isn’t enough for me. Sometimes I want more. Maybe this is a mistake, to want more.
I digress though. Obviously often have in writing this up. But I do enjoy to do so. But… it leads to what Cameron said once. We love to take a little flashlight and explore the cavern that is unknown. God forbid that flashlight goes out though.
I remember when I achieved it though. I was in my bed, as often. I had closed my eyes, and tried hard to… I don’t even know. A suppression I suppose. It wasn’t… it wasn’t a step by step process. Sure my eyes were closed, and I didn’t hear much. But I felt still. And I most definitely knew me, and knew where I was. I just tried somehow, to stop thinking. To let go. But then… I got creative. I thought about my life in the future. Six Feet Under’s ending helped. I thought about me aged and grown up. About to die. About to succumb. Likely in a bed then as well. How I would be. What I may see. In the process-
Absence that was just a second long. Terrified me to my core. I was unsettled. I was nervous. I regretted what I had done. I don’t even exactly remember it now. The nightmare may still be in my mind, but I have suppressed it there. I don’t need to relieve it. I do know it somewhat though. Nothing. Truly nothing. No me. No anything. Maybe I still felt the comforter, maybe that’s what allowed me to jolt back. But I was only a camera. Simply recording… nothing.
I remember far better what I felt afterwards, when it was fresh in my mind. I felt empty. I felt scared. I was glad that I now knew. I didn’t want it again though… except I did as well though.