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How is it possible that a being with such sensitive jewels as the eyes, such enchanted musical instruments as the ears, and such fabulous arabesque of nerves as the brain, can experience itself as anything less than a god

When I was a child, I had a extraordinarily clear, very acute sense of complete disembodiment. I was completed enthralled, fascinated, intrigued, confused, and then ultimately a little frightrened by it. I remember being in the bathroom alone one time, I was nude because I was about to get in the bath, and I had to stop and sit down because I was feeling it so clearly, and so viscerally on that day, and in that moment. Viscerally, lol. As though you can even feel in your body, that you never had that body before. But I knew it, and I felt it, and then, even at the age of 7, I paid so very much attention to try to carefully see if I could identify this feeling as anything more familiar to me. I tried to watch and wait and see if it would pass, or if maybe it was a fleeting, momentary sense of something - rather than an inbuilt reality. I tried to examine in my child’s mind if it was an idea i had, rather than something i was experiencing/living.

Finally I had to discard my own attempts at rationalization, because it was so clear to me, in such a concrete and crystalline way, that I was feeling something that was coming NOT from me, and not out of me, and also not from my inside, but from something outside of me. Something that was indescribable for me then and now, and something that was unfathomably larger. The feeling and the realization, put another way, is that I knew in every cell of my being, that I didn’t come from me.

The feeling of disembodiment i think must have crescendoed, because it got so strong that day in the bathroom that i had to sit down. Sitting down, i then looked down at the skin on my bare arms, and then I held them out in front of me, first stretched out in front of me with the backs of my hands facing up, then slowly I turned then over and looked at my arms again with my palms facing upwards. And the force of the reality of my clear realization that not only was I not of my own body, but that before, I had not been so at all - was A LOT for me to take in by myself.

But this time it was so much more powerful than anything else I had ever felt before in my life - that I gathered up my courage and left the bathroom to go find my mother, and I told her I had to tell her something that I had been feeling for a long time, but which in the bathroom just then had become so clear to me that I needed to tell her - because I understood something about myself that I never knew or understood before.

She listened for a bit, and then said to me “children shouldn’t think about such things”. I was shocked into complete stillness and silence, by this complete brick wall of a dismissal. Without even one iota of care, or interest, or even a sentence or simple acknowledgment. Anything that could have maybe helped me to be able to try to frame for myself, or to start to assimilate, something that was completely immutable - but which I also didn’t yet even have the full vocabulary for. I wanted/needed so much to have a real conversation, about the most real thing I had ever felt in my life until then. Isn’t it great being a child!

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It sounds like you were in the throes of the universe I’ing itself, as Alan put it.

This existential dread is something that occupies my mind far too often, but I can never shake it. Yet, after listening to countless AW lectures over the years, I somehow missed that particular one I posted, and it left me with such a sensation of weightlessness that I have needed for a long time.

On the other hand, I have a bad head cold, it’s 3am, can’t sleep, and the jury is currently deliberating over Oompa Loompa’s fate, so I’m distracting myself with that until I nod off. *cough cough f***in cough*
 
It sounds like you were in the throes of the universe I’ing itself, as Alan put it.

This existential dread is something that occupies my mind far too often, but I can never shake it. Yet, after listening to countless AW lectures over the years, I somehow missed that particular one I posted, and it left me with such a sensation of weightlessness that I have needed for a long time.

On the other hand, I have a bad head cold, it’s 3am, can’t sleep, and the jury is currently deliberating over Oompa Loompa’s fate, so I’m distracting myself with that until I nod off. *cough cough f***in cough*
I guess I was I-ing myself. Which I guess is the same thing!
 
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How is it possible that a being with such sensitive jewels as the eyes, such enchanted musical instruments as the ears, and such fabulous arabesque of nerves as the brain, can experience itself as anything less than a god

When I was a child, I had a extraordinarily clear, very acute sense of complete disembodiment. I was completed enthralled, fascinated, intrigued, confused, and then ultimately a little frightrened by it. I remember being in the bathroom alone one time, I was nude because I was about to get in the bath, and I had to stop and sit down because I was feeling it so clearly, and so viscerally on that day, and in that moment. Viscerally, lol. As though you can even feel in your body, that you never had that body before. But I knew it, and I felt it, and then, even at the age of 7, I paid so very much attention to try to carefully see if I could identify this feeling as anything more familiar to me. I tried to watch and wait and see if it would pass, or if maybe it was a fleeting, momentary sense of something - rather than an inbuilt reality. I tried to examine in my child’s mind if it was an idea i had, rather than something i was experiencing/living.

Finally I had to discard my own attempts at rationalization, because it was so clear to me, in such a concrete and crystalline way, that I was feeling something that was coming NOT from me, and not out of me, and also not from my inside, but from something outside of me. Something that was indescribable for me then and now, and something that was unfathomably larger. The feeling and the realization, put another way, is that I knew in every cell of my being, that I didn’t come from me.

The feeling of disembodiment i think must have crescendoed, because it got so strong that day in the bathroom that i had to sit down. Sitting down, i then looked down at the skin on my bare arms, and then I held them out in front of me, first stretched out in front of me with the backs of my hands facing up, then slowly I turned then over and looked at my arms again with my palms facing upwards. And the force of the reality of my clear realization that not only was I not of my own body, but that before, I had not been so at all - was A LOT for me to take in by myself.

But this time it was so much more powerful than anything else I had ever felt before in my life - that I gathered up my courage and left the bathroom to go find my mother, and I told her I had to tell her something that I had been feeling for a long time, but which in the bathroom just then had become so clear to me that I needed to tell her - because I understood something about myself that I never knew or understood before.

She listened for a bit, and then said to me “children shouldn’t think about such things”. I was shocked into complete stillness and silence, by this complete brick wall of a dismissal. Without even one iota of care, or interest, or even a sentence or simple acknowledgment. Anything that could have maybe helped me to be able to try to frame for myself, or to start to assimilate, something that was completely immutable - but which I also didn’t yet even have the full vocabulary for. I wanted/needed so much to have a real conversation, about the most real thing I had ever felt in my life until then. Isn’t it great being a child!

❤️❤️❤️



🖤🖤🖤

Have you ever read The Character of Rain by Amelie Nothomb? It seems like it would be your kind of thing (it IS beautifully written).

On a side note, I remember when I first discovered I breathed. I was about four years old and I thought it was just a habit that I had gotten into, picked up from going to a neighbours house where he taught us how to march--hup two three four and all that. I remember being so annoyed by this new habit and disturbed by how it interfered with the continuity of my concentration. I kept thinking I've got to stop doing this!, unaware of course that if I stopped doing it I would be dead. I never confessed to anyone about this new habit because I didnt know how to explain it or how torturesome it was in a way i thought they would be able to understand. Eventually i just accepted it.
 
Have you ever read The Character of Rain by Amelie Nothomb? It seems like it would be your kind of thing (it IS beautifully written).

On a side note, I remember when I first discovered I breathed. I was about four years old and I thought it was just a habit that I had gotten into, picked up from going to a neighbours house where he taught us how to march--hup two three four and all that. I remember being so annoyed by this new habit and disturbed by how it interfered with the continuity of my concentration. I kept thinking I've got to stop doing this!, unaware of course that if I stopped doing it I would be dead. I never confessed to anyone about this new habit because I didnt know how to explain it or how torturesome it was in a way i thought they would be able to understand. Eventually i just accepted it.
No, have not read it. I could hypothetically mentally add it to my “to read” list for after I quit my job. There are only two small potential hiccups in that plan, so we’ll see how it goes. The first is that I have a deep and undying aversion to that god awful movie Amelie, and so it’s very hard for me to have anything to do with anything or anyone that even vaguely reminds of it - which of course, firstly, anyone by the same name.

The second potential impediment/delay is that I have just been made aware that there was an entire VIKING SHOW with SIX WHOLE SEASONS that i never even knew about before! :lbf: But I can buy the book anyway and see when I get to it!
 
No, have not read it. I could hypothetically mentally add it to my “to read” list for after I quit my job. There are only two small potential hiccups in that plan, so we’ll see how it goes. The first is that I have a deep and undying aversion to that god awful movie Amelie, and so it’s very hard for me to have anything to do with anything or anyone that even vaguely reminds of it - which of course, firstly, anyone by the same name.

The second potential impediment/delay is that I have just been made aware that there was an entire VIKING SHOW with SIX WHOLE SEASONS that i never even knew about before! :lbf: But I can buy the book anyway and see when I get to it!
It's a short novel! If you have the time to write 10,000 word replies to simple questions, you DEFINITELY have the time to read it. But nevermind, forget I suggested it!
 
It's a short novel! If you have the time to write 10,000 word replies to simple questions, you DEFINITELY have the time to read it. But nevermind, forget I suggested it!
I specifically said I’ll buy it and read it! :lbf: But just that i also have to also prioritize vikings! :lbf:

You’re right though, not even my 10,000 word posts could even begin to make a dent in the all the floods of worthless and uninteresting posts made here by other people.

I will have to make sure after i quit my job to set aside enough time to make all of my non-10,000 word posts also longer! To combat the grim here!
 
Just watching a Kenny Everett show from 1983 and about 27:50 he says it was a great show and he thinks it will go down "in the anals of history". I'm sure the mispronunciation was a joke but he says it in a deadpan way. It reminded me of that 1985 interview of Morrissey visiting Stretford.



The 2 song towards the end ffs.... what a load of shite that band are
 
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