Another restless night, it can be difficult to get comfortable with the pin in my hip. For whatever reason I continue to get “subjective breakthrough” pertaining to people from my past. On occasion I get this for people I have not yet personally met. I know who they are, I can put a name and a face to them. I don’t even know if some of them are still alive.
It is very odd, and it is as if they are indeed talking about me, that how my situation does not look “good” for them. Given my background, how come I am here, retired on a small pension at my age? I should be somewhere else doing something else, I have been wasted. My potential has not been realised. Something has gone wrong, I am an anomaly, an outlier data point, to be discarded.
Of course I could be imagining it. I am only perturbed in a minor way by it. I do not think about them and yet this “subjective breakthrough” happens. For instance, I am fully conscious of what I am doing such as cooking, typing or using a pump to remove the flooding in the basement, yet there they are at the periphery of consciousness. Somehow, I did not ought, things should not have happened. But they did and I am here, now, this morning. Why can’t they let it go? What is all the fuss about?
The narrative of how things ought to be and the reality are inconsistent, is that it, the crux?
I have been pondering how relatively minor changes in philosophy, can radically change orientation towards life. It does not take much, but drop clinging, ambition and desire for kudos and one becomes quite a different being. So different that it is hard for others to appreciate from within their own referential frame of the world. The values are not shared and somehow this impinges on the nature of assembled cognitive reality. If for example one likes to justify that then demarcates a kind of thought stream, an ersatz reality. If one thinks that justifications are made up and imaginary, then that demarcates an alternate “reality”. It is almost like a parallel universe.
A while back I was “told” in a vision that this is my very last lifetime here, that I will not reincarnate again. It was early in the morning; I was entirely sober and walking in the woods near Tring. Was that a schizoid delusion or was it a “real” vision? Who knows? I am sufficiently logical that I suspect many of the questions pertaining to life and death will only get answered at death and then perhaps forgotten. Meditation can perhaps provide a trailer or preview. For example, opening the crown chakra and stretching one’s consciousness outside the body, is according to some schools of thought, akin to the process of dying but the threads are not cut, merely stretched. One can pop back into the vehicle.
What is going down, in old London town?
My guess is that I will probably never know…