Since last Sunday night, I haven't had much of a regular sleep pattern. As a result of the recent affliction with rhabdomyolysis, I've been placed on a variety of drugs and the effects have been disruptive to say the least. One of my doctors placed me on amitriptyline, which worked last night and throughout today as far as getting me to sleep. Tonight, however, there is no such effect.
My life feels like a dream state at the moment. I find that I awaken two or three times before I'm really awake. This usually works out in the following manner:
1. I awaken and go to the door of my bedroom, look back at the bed, and see myself lying in it asleep.
2. Immediately after the panic that sets in at this sight I awaken again and either repeat the process or find that I really am awake.
3. I usually feel as though I am doing the same things repetitively, a kind of deja vu that goes on and on throughout a day.
It's disorienting to a degree, but also incredibly liberating. Despite the aches and pains that are holdovers of the rhabdo, which has largely gone away from my upper body and only bothers me in the lower back and thigh area, I feel as though I can push through pain because there are times when I don't feel that my pain is real. It's strange to experience, but it's something that enables me to get things done that exhausted me over the past two weeks.
My own personal beliefs about existence defy easy categorization, as I subscribe to a holographic model of the universe wherein every possible outcome is contained within a hologram. What gives our life shape and form is our consciousness of a particular outcome to the detriment of all other outcomes. Put simply, I am information processing other information and deciding which information forms the path of my life. By settling on one outcome out of an infinite variety of outcomes, the me that is me takes a particular course of action. At the same time, other versions of me take all of those other courses simultaneously.
Time is an illusion of finite restrictions within an infinite construct. I believe I'm growing older, and therefore a linear progression emerges to meet my belief. Entropy is assured within the system, and therefore I age. I believe that expectations dictate outcomes to a large extent, which is why I think faith is so important to so many people, including me. I don't believe that I'm ever really going to die in a final sense. When this skin has sloughed off of me, and what others knew of me is gone, I'll still be here in a different form. I don't regard a corporeal form as essential or even as a defining characteristic of who I am. I am not 185 pounds or a hazel-eyed brown-haired male.
What I am is an intellect, an ability to process information and analyze it. The reality that I see around me is simply my assimilation of information into a recognizable form. It isn't the essence of that form; rather, it's a mere representation of data.
When I was younger, I struggled with the notions of reconciling God to reality. How could God be omnipresent in a reality of fixed points and finite progressions? I came to the conclusion that God was energy, because energy is present throughout the universe. The spark of the divine, kinetic and potential, always in a balance, unable to be destroyed or disposed of in the greater reality.
We see the characteristics of God manifested in different personas by religions that seek to qualify and quantify God. There really is no monotheistic religion to speak of when you consider what religions say about God. At best, religions are henotheistic. That is, there are manifestations of the same persona that differ. Shiva, Kali, and Ganesh are merely manifestations of Brahma. All of the Egyptian gods are merely manifestations of Amun, Amun-Ra, or Aten.
In Western Christian tradition, we have a Triune model of essence and energies. The essence of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are one and the same, but the energies or roles differ. God the Father is the Creator, God the Son is the Savior and Intercessor, and God the Holy Spirit is the Helper. The mushrikin who predated Islam believed in shirk, or sharing, in the sense that they regarded one god as superior to the others but they shared a number of lesser gods through whom the superior god's authority and power could be manifested and known. Modern Islam repudiates this entirely.
Judaism merges the chief Canannite god El with their own flavoring, so to speak: El Shaddai. Elohim is, after all, plural. Thou shalt have no other gods before me is not a preclusion of other gods, it is simply an admonishment of giving those other gods the same reverence as a particular god.
The corruptible cannot inherit the incorruptible, and so when I lose the corruptible, I am merely prepared to enter union with the incorruptible. I am purified, so to speak. My consciousness is no longer bound by a paradigm that decrees I construct a physical reality with my conscious mind in order to represent the pure information before me. This world is incomplete, rich in detail though it is.
Sleep does not come, and to a degree, I do not feel that it is necessary. When I feel tired, I wonder if exhaustion is real or simply something conjured up to represent an overload of sorts. I got a lot of books out of my apartment today. I was extremely tired as I picked them up and loaded them into the truck, but at the time when I would have stopped to recover, I simply thought to myself that none of it was real anyway. I wondered why I attached such value to books in the first place. Tangible objects for an intangible essence.
At times, it feels very real to experience these sensations. I can be sitting here and feel as though I'm suddenly falling, only to be jerked back to stillness in this chair. The reaction is visceral: increased breathing, palpitations, dilated eyes that hurt in the glare of a computer screen. Sensations are the connection to this, and I wonder if I'm being misled on some level by physical stimuli.
Parmenides did not believe in time or motion, as motion would require us to undergo an infinite progression towards a destination. 1/4 of a inch, 1/8 of an inch, 1/16 of an inch, 1/32 of an inch, and so on and so forth. Time measures a progression, but I think time is as much a matter of conditioning as it is positioning. If you place two atomic clocks together, but one is elevated higher off of the floor than the other, time will run faster on the lower clock because it is closer to the Earth.
We are conditioned from a young age to regard the progression of hands on a clock face as a passage ofsomething that we can neither see nor hear nor touch nor taste nor smell. What if Adam and Eve realized time in the moment they bit into the fruit? What if they became cognizant of that devil in that moment, and their cognizance became the means by which they lost sight of eternal existence, an exchange of eternal concepts for finite and limited concepts that bring on age and infirmity?
We buy into this concept and paradigm, teaching ourselves that a 24 hour clock is real when in truth our bodies are on a 25 hour cycle. Our circadian rhythms run on a 25 hour cycle, but the way we schedule our lives isn't based on that cycle: it's based on our planetary progression in relation to the sun. Each day we short ourselves an hour and expect to stay constant and refreshed.
The hubris of humanity can be seen in its efforts to say daylight time by rewinding a clock. I wait for sleep as though sleep is a passenger on an airplane that hasn't arrived on time at the airport. My body tells me that it needs sleep, and my mind says that my body isn't real anyway. I see another law in my members waring against the law of my mind, making me a prisoner to the law of sin that is in my members so that the good I want to do, I do not; and the evil I do not want to do, that I do. I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway.
The war within continues on and on, between knowledge and belief, neither of which are objective camps, but both of which seek to persuade and convince. What can we know, anyway? It's all obfuscation. I know that I am tired and that I should be tired but that I am still awake no matter how tired I am. All I can do is think. At least I have my mind and the ideas within it to keep me company in these moments. Information is comfort, and I know why love physical, tangible books so much. They are the anchors I drop in rough seas, and I can moor myself to them even when buffeted by difficulties.
A strong tower. I wonder sometimes if I am dreaming all of this, or if someone else is dreaming it and if when they wake up my existence will be no more. I just know that I am here and that there may be a there, but it is not relevant. Endless abstractions and subterfuge that come out like foxes at night and in the morning to play around with my thought processes when I am deprived and depraved.
As for me, I will go and read a book until this too has passed or I have passed it.