April 27, 2024
For I do not exist: there exist but the thousands of mirrors that reflect me. With every acquaintance I make, the population of phantoms resembling me increases. ~ Vladimir Nabokov
I had a most unpleasant day, last Wednesday. It was all about my mood, although I blamed it on the frustrating retail shopping experience, the overcrowded streets, and the surprise of glancing in a pillar mirror at Macy’s and seeing…I look old. I went through a lot of angsty thought processes and an experience of abiding disgruntledness as deep and nasty as any tarpit at La Brea.
After a day I realized that I hadn’t really been irritated by the scarce and indifferent sales clerks in what used to be a classy department store. Or by the other drivers (how dare they be on the road, making it crowded for me?). No, if life is a mirror, it was reflecting information about myself, not what I saw out there.
Before I had time to delve into the murky images the world mirror was showing me, I woke up Friday in a better mood. The profound loneliness and sense of dislocation from Wednesday was a mystery. I didn’t understand where it came from, what it meant, or if I was supposed to do anything with it.
So I blamed it on the moon.
*****
I am thankful that the disconnection and loneliness, which felt so deep on Wednesday, was apparently just another passing mood. On that day, I thought: everything I’ve imagined I would want to do when I’m free of certain responsibilities, now seems lifeless and irrelevant. I cogitated a bit on that, wondering if the irrelevance stemmed from disconnection: having essentially no friends in Santa Barbara, after nearly five decades here. It would be much more fun to pal around with somebody on these in-town adventures than wend my solo way, without anyone to laugh with, without anyone to share an experience with.
I wonder, after the shiftings have chipped away at status quo, and the iron clutch of elites running things has been permanently loosened, what will our physical world be like? Or, in 5D, do we get to create our worlds physically, so that we view and experience exactly what we want? Kind of like Matthew Ward’s description of Nirvana in Matthew, Tell Me About Heaven.
The takeaway I have kept from my otherwise forgettable Wednesday dip into what’s-it-all-about land, is that I cannot truly plan anything for a future real life experience. Because I have no way of knowing what the physical world is going to be like, once we’ve arrived, and keep arriving, at higher levels of our experience.
Thank goodness, I can always choose to dwell in the present. I’ve heard that can be a pretty good place to be.