"I am convinced there is nothing more tragic than to sleep through a revolution!" A Martin Luther King quote from a speech he gave in 1964. I tend to agree with that - though some days admittedly - less sure.
I had dinner last weekend with some friends who are certainly asleep. (My assessment of course, they think they know what’s up.) I noticed a few things.
1 - It’s very uncomfortable. When there is no space for your true thoughts and feelings to land, let alone be picked up, taken in and responded back to, the sense of isolation - particularly amidst old friendship-stalwarts - only magnifies.
2 - It’s not their fault. I’m holding on where I can, having already lost friends. They are just being themselves.
3 - Given 1 and 2, a question arrived: “What am I holding on to?” (In truth it’s been a recurring question, so I must be a slow learner.)
The answer I provided myself is this: A world that doesn’t exist anymore. And I’m realizing, it’s not just the previous version of the world that’s gone; it’s the previous version of myself - who had no problem connecting with these friends - she’s gone too.
For those of us engaged in illusion shedding, (aka: looking behind the curtain) it is not just the world’s illusions we are shedding; we are simultaneously dismantling versions of ourselves who were fully tied up in those illusions. They go together. I touched on this recently in a piece entitled Trumans.
As I explore this topic more it occurs to me that much of the emotions I find myself swimming in lately - sadness, anger, outrage, confusion - are not just about the world out there; they are also about the shifting sands beneath my sense of self too.
Pretty much everything we thought we knew, thought we could rely on in the external world, is up for grabs: The function and reliability of governments, financial systems, educational and medical institutions - it’s all been undermined in two short years. (Much longer in the making, but obvious now.) That’s quite a learning curve.
What we thought of as perhaps permanent fixtures of society are now facing the kind of scrutiny - from growing public outrage - that could spell their extinction. Add to that already challenging scenario, the fact that there is an existential threat in the form of a globally coordinated attempt to snap-in the pieces of a control grid (Catherine Austin Fitt’s evocative language) to enslave humanity. Yes, that’s a very big conspiracy. (Said unapologetically btw.) That’s happening.
Those big uncertainties along with the attack on humanity are the monumental things we are all having to come to terms with, (minus the snoozers who I’m a little envious of some days) while we ourselves, are also undergoing radical changes in our own identities.
That’s a lot of pressure.
Of course, there is that larger identity we all share; the one that doesn’t change. That constant self that is aware, persists and is present throughout all the iterations of our evolving personality-self. (In the famous Matrix scene when Neo takes the red-pill, he and his world are in for a massive transformation, yet we all still recognize a core, changeless ‘Neo’ throughout.)
Fortunately, I have some experience navigating big shifts in identity so I’m familiar with some of the side-effects. I know there tends to be a gap of time between the version leaving and the version coming online. During that time we can feel oddly amorphous and even empty. There’s a real sense of loss and correlating sadness. It’s as if the house you own is waiting on its new owner but she hasn’t arrived yet. The new you, still forming, is figuring how to ‘get here’; how to really embody.
At the same time - perhaps because the new version is still so fragile and unformed - that changeless constant ‘I’ becomes more evident and more intimate. You notice it. It sort of comes forward. And you notice how solid it is. Immovable yet light. It’s just there, it’s always there and it’s always really fine - no matter what’s happening to the personality-self.
It struck me recently that perhaps it’s more of the changeless ‘I’ - that is always fine - that we’re actually embodying more of. There is a corresponding spaciousness that happens in identity transformation; as if more room is required for the new version of the self stepping in.
(Perhaps that changeless self is where the deeper ties of friendships are held too. I have to think so, because despite my inability to connect with my friends at that personality level anymore - I certainly continue to love them.)
Shedding illusions is the price we pay for getting at the truth. We may start by looking at the external world, noticing the lies and asking the questions. But aware of it or not, we are digging up the lies in the current versions of our selves as well. They are fully entwined.
Wanting to know what’s true or real is a powerful force. It’s clearly coming from some deeper and truer part of us - the light of us - because the pursuit itself will inevitably dismantle those temporary versions in the process. In other words, the light of us and its pursuit of truth is ruthless. That’s a powerful realization. At least for me.
Losing an identity can brings up big fears. We may well feel like we’re dying. And in truth - that version of us is dying. It doesn’t feel good but if its existence is tied to illusion, it has to go.
It’s best to hold our identities lightly. I understand the wisdom of that. Everything is up for grabs in this transformation, including those old versions of us. And it’s not like there’s just one identity that is going, there are multiple.
Still, as with Neo, the consistent ‘I’ will move through it all, unchanged. And maybe more than that, the ‘ride’ he’s in for can be also be entertaining - if held lightly enough - it certainly is for the audience watching.
What comes next is not just a new world - that’s inevitable. But new versions of ourselves too. Both will be stronger, and grounded in more truth.
The pressure of the world right now is real. Palpable. I often get an image of a diamond forming deep underneath the earth. Diamonds form out of carbon that crystalizes over time, under the immense heat and weight of the world. While forming they are silent and unseen, when surfaced they appear like a miraculous feat of nature. Known and valued for their beauty and their clarity.
Perhaps we’re all potential diamonds-in-the-making now.
I wonder, how will those potential future selves shine?
inspired by Jacqueline: oraclegirl.com
Thank you for linking this article in your last. What a gem, or better yet, diamond.
I’ll say again, your writings speak to me in profound ways. I am grateful that God led me to you. You affirm all that I’ve been feeling for this last year on this journey for the excruciating, painful truth. I am also grateful that I won’t be sleeping through the revolution. 😀
Thank you… just Thank you…