No Volition. Or so I seem to choose to think.

I started this blog so I wouldn't have to upset people face to face. There was a memorable dinner with my husband that ended in tears when I said that there is no goal, no purpose, nothing matters. "Well, what's keeping you from killing the children in their beds?" he asked, taking it to the next logical conclusion. I tried to explain that there is no one who would choose to do that, it might happen, but that for the apparent character that is me, it was probably pretty unlikely. He was appalled. Perhaps when this seems to happen to apparent individuals, the "best" thing to do is to keep quiet about it. The thoughts and feelings arising in this apparent mind/body organism are along the lines of a strong inclination to talk about it. So this is a safe-ish forum, to a limited audience, just to get it out of "my" system.

It's all so intense. In the story of my life, a recurring theme - perhaps the underlying one - was to change the way I felt, or kill the feelings altogether. Without the filtre of personal identity it's full-on; misery is abject, joy is euphoric. Ambivalence is perfectly untethered. There is no one to own the feelings, although apparent owning sometimes arises. It's certainly not some sanitised state of detachment and witnessing. It's fleshy and immediate, sweet and sour and complete. Totally obvious, for the change is: that which is, simply is what is, and that's it. Nobody who is still in the dream of separation wants to hear that the apparent world is absolutely perfect exactly as it is. I never had a choice, there was never anyone who had a choice, it all simply unfolds as it must, and the thoughts that seem to be choices simply arise - there is no one here for them to originate from. This blog is utterly meaningless, for what is trying to be described cannot be described. It simply is. So it's pretty obvious why I don't talk about it much face to face with other apparent individuals as it comes out sounding like a giant load of errant gibberish.