Things have been weird, and I’m sure that everyone’s experiencing different multitudes of it at different intervals. I’ve experienced it with great intensity and can attest to that fear of mindlessness that it provokes. The time traveling box transports us to specific moments like scenes from Christmas Carol. It can’t be an accident because it results in catharsis. The fear is there for self-examination, and we need to separate what we project and what we reflect to come to a cosmic balance.
The first time I experienced the ghost of a person, the feeling came so overwhelmingly that I had a near death experience just sitting in my car parked outside her house. I had been relentlessly pursuing ego death, and sitting there with the windows wound down, I mentally let go of my whole childhood – memories of my sister and my brother rushing through my head and going, and I killed myself, mentally.
For months after that, I was driving around town without a specific destination in mind – laughing till I cried, crying till I laughed, screaming with the windows wound up, cursing, praising, mocking the simulation. It was all so ridiculously funny and deathly serious at the same time. I wasn’t scared of the ghost anymore, as she became a terribly real person to me. She took great care of me in the following months – she even folded my laundry and fed me and gave me hugs when I was heartbroken over a breakup.
From being afraid, I became investigative. I figured that I had been afraid of the idea of enlightenment being a mindless body wandering around, not thinking, not feeling, just automated consciousness. Nothing scares me as much as this idea of thoughtlessness, of disembodied action. Over time, I learned from observing the ghost.
She seemed to be very action-oriented.
She had a strict routine.
In the mornings she would have coffee and oatmeal.
Then she’d be in her office working on mysterious things.
We would have lunch together, and sometimes I would cook together with her.
We always did the dishes together.
She got back to work
At tea time, she’d call for me to have tea with her.
We always had Chinese tea out of teacups without handles.
Then she’d be off to the pool, bringing with her a book or two, and always a notepad and a pen.
You get the idea.
It took me a long time to process the experience of living with her. Sure, I knew I was loved from the attention she gave me. But was it *her* doing it, or some sort of holy spirit that permeated her mind? Was she a real person or a shadow puppet?
I came to the conclusion that thoughtlessness would not result in ritualistic honour, or such a funny sense of humour, and she contained them both.
This is time travel, brought to you by the spacetime singularity.
People acting through their higher minds to drop clues for your future redemption.
It won’t make sense at the time they say it; it’ll seem out of the blue, but if you take the trail, it’ll lead you to mutual understanding. We are all angels spending our days ferrying each other between heaven, hell, and purgatory. You have heaven in bed in the mornings, then go to work and enter hell, and come home to your friends in purgatory. We do this magical transportation with no bus, nor boat, or even ticket, but with all that we are.
And all that we are, all that I am, all that you are, in combination; my sweet hearts, it’s got to be enough.