Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Does Out-of-Body Stem From Within the Body?

In this out-of-body experience it's hard to feel myself.  I'm not saying it's hard to feel a thing.  On the contrary,  I feel much when my mind is outside my brain.  Is it brokenness?  Is it mental illness?  Is it a diet destruction?  Or perhaps it's a demon seeking to demonstrate his power.  I'm not really sure what it is, left or right, up or down.  What I do know is that it's distressing.  Not exactly depressing because it's not really sadness.  Though at the same time it can seem darker.  Yes somehow it's darker, though it's like looking through cellophane at my surroundings, all the while trying to make sense of the words that my ears are hearing.  Have I told you yet: it's difficult to describe, perhaps even harder to to discern.

And then, in those moments when my mind returns to the space between my ears, the words I hear are all bleak.  That may not always be the case, though it was on this night.  I was fortunate to be able to decompress these thoughts with others this time.  Not only that, but I was encouraged to discover that the bleakness I felt was not just in my own head.  The illness demonstrated didn't seem to be a resounding theme for others however.

Even now, as I type some of this out and wrestle with its meaning and purpose I begin to feel the phantom inside my head trying to make its way out into the open.  I suppress it's eagerness to escape, or to even be given the chance at life.  However, it is far from my desire to imprison it within my own mind.  I could let it free, if it was up to me, but could I live with myself if that meant it would be tormenting someone else?  Someone, perhaps, whose will may not be as strong?  Or maybe I could take measures to mask it with other feelings and poor interpretations and rationales as to what and why it is.

When I felt it earlier, it felt as a tangible weakness.  It was as something I could touch with my third eye, though I could not push it away.  I could occasionally tuck it away so as to focus on the words my ears were hearing, but it only came back, sometimes stronger than before.  Then I had a strange epiphany: could these be the moments where I am stronger in weakness?  So I prayed.  I didn't really know what to say, but I prayed.  Though they may not have seemed like the right words, or even many words at all, they seemed to be just enough.  Again, I'll reiterate what I've said before, that the God we serve is not a formula.  It is not because I said the right thing at the right time that I began to find some peace in my experience.  No, it is through grace that I receive what I do not deserve.

So now I'm just sitting here reflecting on the moments that have passed me by.  Meanwhile, I periodically feel the phantom stretching himself, trying to escape to where he's just outside my head though still somehow in my mind.  Who can understand the visible spectrum we live in?  Perhaps the colors we don't see hide the spiritual realm.  We don't appear to be meant to see beyond our scope, though at times some individuals are given brief glimpses into that invisible world that surrounds us and perhaps somehow also lives inside us.  As for my current situation, I will move forward in the sensory world, though aware that there is more beyond these five input systems.  There has to be.  I can feel it!

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