I often feel like definition is created through binaries. Think about how something is defined: a border of what it is must be drawn, no? Therefore, one also defines, then, what it is not. Whenever we assign a descriptor and adjective to any given thing, we are not merely commenting on what it is; moreover, we are also implicitly commenting on what it isn’t.
That is my wind up to comment on the following:
There have been times where life, or even my very sense of self, does not feel real. Often, this is associated with the experience of being dissociated. It is often described as an anxiety response, the brain’s way of protecting the conscious mind from stimuli that it cannot adequately process. However, are there times, too, where this feeling of “not real” is created via duality, through discovering something else that is decidedly “more real”? If we know that something feels “unreal,” are there instances in which there is something else that can be immediately perceived that is “more real”?
I had a moment a bit ago where the experience of looking at myself in the mirror was accompanied by a certain intrinsic sense of knowing, as sure as the blueness of a clear sky: it was the knowing that I am not my vessel. The body, I suppose, didn’t necessarily feel “unreal,” but there was definitely something that felt more real (perhaps, then, realness is a gradient).
What, then, was that something? What was that “something” that felt more real?
Well.. how can I take a stab at this?
I suppose if my very physicality is what felt “less real,” then the associated opposite, the associated binary that lends to definition itself, would be nonphysical, immaterial… something like ether, spirit, mind, both not limited by the body but also within the limitations of the body.
I am not one — at least anymore — for completely discarding physical experience. There are some New Age spiritualists who forget that the physical still exists. We are manifest in the corporeal world for a reason. I simply believe in holding both opposites as true simultaneously. I am not a fan of discarding the spiritual in favor of the material, nor am I a fan of discarding the material in favor of the spiritual. I do believe that the immaterial is superior, however, though I’m not certain of the exact split of importance. Perhaps 51/49? 52/48? I do not know.
So, all of that being said, I just wanted to write to comment on the feeling of “unreality” that is sometimes felt. I know there are instances in which it is a feature of psychological imbalance; however, I’ve also had a multitude of experiences where it was not set on by a stressor, but rather via simple observation leading to awe.
Today, it felt clear as day that my physical body was not totally me, but rather that it was an illusion, a veneer, and, for some reason, an awfully humorous one at that. It felt like a mask I don, potentially deceptive, for my real self hides — not by my own will, but rather by virtue of what my real self is, something… invisible. It is invisible, at least, to the physical senses, but may be perceived by those who have their nonphysical faculties of perception in working order. It can be felt, it can be intuitively known, and then, perhaps, translated into symbol or metaphor.
Let me make this clear: it was not the experience of looking in the mirror and not recognizing myself. Rather, I felt like I was refreshingly recognizing myself — my true self — perhaps for the first time.
It was not my physical vessel.
…
This is going to sound concerning — I swear I was lucid and fully present with the road!
But I had a moment while driving, perhaps yesterday or the day before, where I felt like my mind reached some sort of… null field. How can I explain it? I felt like my mind was exercising this faculty that I’d associate with the scientist: to view all of reality, pleasure and pain, the very experience of being a living biological organism, as an experiment. It felt like this… dimension of myself, this… archetype? Character within the psyche? I know not the perfect word — regardless, it felt like this dimension of myself was fully capable of viewing all of my perceived experience and all sensations as experimental, thus finding perfect equanimity. If something created pain, it could view it with curiosity and discovery. If something created pleasure, it could view it with curiosity and discovery. It felt like… some sort of “zero point” or “null field” where it was perfectly centered and impartial between all dual polarities of experience and existence itself. There is, however, something awfully lonely about this means of experiencing the world. It almost makes my heart ache just considering that way of living.
I’d associate this faculty of mind, without the temperance of compassion and ethical boundaries, as perfectly capable of committing great atrocities in the name of science — so without heart, so without feeling, that any being experiencing severe pain for the sake of an experiment could be looked at with cold analysis, without compassion, without care. It feels incapable of forming deep relationships with implicit meaning, at least as we understand them. This wasn’t what I experienced, mind you — rather, I felt like I could intuitively understand how this state of mind has led to cruelty in the name of science in the past.
However, all things have their use in balance. This state of mind also feels immensely potent in liberating oneself from the experience of being inundated by sensation. It… feels like the experience of immense clarity, when the course of action becomes so clear, one can focus solely and entirely on their destiny and their destiny alone. It feels like the state of mind after something has died, after one experiences a great trauma that then can lead to great strength. It feels like the experience of being in the world and simultaneously beyond it, not of it.
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 