Out of Body, Out of Mind

Really, I don’t mean to go nearly a month without posting.  I don’t MEAN to shitbag on my self-imposed writing blogging responsibilities, just like I don’t MEAN to shitbag on my self-imposed fanfiction writing responsibilities but I tend to lose track of time.  I’ll tell myself that I’ll do it tomorrow and before I know it it’s three months later.  I don’t do this with everything, mind you.  My life would be a mess if that were the case. Just with things that aren’t in my face all the time, like this blog.  Can’t really say the same for my fanfiction because it is sitting on my nightstand and I see it every night but I have other things that I want to do more, like original writing, that requires more of my time.  So it gets relegated to the background.  This blog?  I didn’t plain ol’ forget, I just didn’t realize it’d been since September that I’d last written.  Oops.

What I really wanted to ramble about was having a momentary out of body experience.  Really, it’s less out of body and more of an awareness of presence in the greater space of this world.  That sounds super floofy and should probably come with some meditation crystals and a trip to the Sedona vortices but I don’t know how else to describe it.

So for the last week and a couple days I’ve been back east working a little bit and visiting with family most of the time.  On the second leg of my flight back it’s getting dark and I’m reading on my iPad with the help of the overhead light (I don’t actually like reading on that thing in the dark, too bright or I don’t like the low light settings) and just for a moment I have the thought I’m on a plane.  No shit, right?  I’m not in a fucking dirigible or flapping my wings from Minneapolis to Phoenix.  But this one little thought spiraled.  I’m on a plane.  Surrounded by clouds. 35,000 feet above the ground.  I’m on a chair.  Nothing is under me.  Nothing is supporting me.  35,000 feet of space between me and the ground.  And then the world swirls for a moment and I’m, just for a second, outside the plane seeing the expanse of nothing around me and being able to stick it to my eyeballs the ridiculousness of being in this tin can, flying along in the atmosphere, and not plunging to my death.

These are not things, I think, one actively thinks about when they’re flying.  Sure, you KNOW this is all going on but being consciously aware of them would probably cause a few panic attacks and there just aren’t enough flight attendants for that.  It probably wasn’t an out of body experience but it certainly was a hyper-awareness of the fact that below my ass sitting in this little tiny chair was a whole lot of nothing.  It was a rare moment when not only was I thinking outside of my immediate sphere of existence but I allowed my brain to think about how small I really am and it’s fucking trippy.

In my experience people are generally selfish.  That’s not a bad thing.  I think people should take care of themselves first and foremost and it’s not a mark against them and they think about themselves first (within reason).  Irrespective of road rage and people being all obtuse wandering around a grocery store taking up all the aisle space, their worlds are limited to just what’s around them and what immediately effects them.  Some people take the effort to see the bigger picture and understand the ripple effect their existence has on things beyond their immediate lives.  This is where things like conscious consumerism/capitalism comes in, environmentalism, charity, that kind of thing.  Where people pay more attention to what’s going on outside of their lives and how their immediate existences affect the greater world.  But then you get people that are probably high that start thinking about humanity’s existence on the back of a giant turtle in the vast universe and that’s where I’m shelving this little experience I had on the plane yesterday.

I’m not high and I don’t often contemplate humanity’s place in the universe but allowing your brain to open up, to spiral into a place that people rarely go, creates for one hell of a mindfuck that puts not only your life but human existence into perspective.  I realized just how much of a speck in the greater universe I am, how insignificant my little dot self in this flying tuna fish can in the sky really was.  And I was blown away by it.  I don’t know if I’d call it profound or if I’m going to start re-evaluating my life any time soon.  But I can certainly see it being a doorway to madness if that brain door is left open.  People like to think that their existence means something, that they’re here for a purpose, that they’ll have an impact.  But that single second of a glimpse I had eradicated all those self-important notions.  We are nothing, existing for nothing.  A speck in a world that’s far larger than we can ever comprehend.

Yeah.  That can cause people to spiral into despair.  Or wind up into creativity.  Or see it in some completely different way.  If I allowed myself to let that spiral continue I could wonder why I even bother existing or I could formulate a story about a secret door in the mind that once opened can’t be closed (sounds rather Matrix-like, although I’ve never seen any of those movies, no really, never).  Yeah, I’m a little speck in an infinite universe.  Looking up at the sky and really allowing my brain to open up will remind me of that.  But I’m definitely not going to throw anything I have away because I fail to find a point to my existence.  I’ll make a point, and when if no one hears it I still made it.  Even if it just gets swallowed up by space, at least I made an effort.  I just can’t think about it too much.

Maybe I do need to get high.  Holy crap.

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