It’s like I’m filled with oceans of experiences. There were spiritual tidal pools that I flopped around in my early days of evolution. One tide would push me into another. Sometimes when the pool dried up, I almost died. I accidentally flopped into new ones, and then somehow a riptide in one pulled me into a vast ocean of nothingness.
Is there land? Is there sea? Is there me?
From today’s vantage point. Those tidal pools were vast oceans. I explored these realms and ways of being-- thinking--hoping that I’d hit on a safe isle somewhere that would be marked “reality”. God would be gloriously real to me. I’d have no doubts.
I explored enough to know that for me, I suppose I was getting used to doubt. The journey of exploration was to get some clarity on what it means to not know. I still think it's a cruel joke to lead innocents on a life-time journey of doubt avoidance. I decided at some point to go ahead and experience the devastating vastness of nothingness and my aloneness in the world.
At which point, and the analogy is very bad, evolve lungs/gills. I feel like I don’t fit on land or sea. Which do I come from? Land or sea, or neither?
Others might have arrived more quickly and easily at these conclusions, and not had to circumnavigate the oceans of spirituality to get back to the place they’d left, but then possibly that’s for them to know and for me to be okay with this aspect of isolation from the otherness of others.
Reorientation. What does that look like for me? I gasp for breath on land, and drown at sea? Will I get through this transitional phase?
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