“We’re all living in a simulation. Some alien race out there using our misery for entertainment.” — Bobby Hoffman (Phoenix, Oregon)
It has sure felt like that lately.
This year is an unrelenting dream. Not all good, not all bad. Surreal.
Human brains adapt, but not quickly.
I feel like I’m being rebooted. Synapses misfiring. Still catching up with a world that goes on without me. My steps are jerky, robotic, dreamlike.
I dream-run from an unknown villain, arms flailing, devoid of the friction necessary for forward momentum.
I’m happy but sputtered. Scattered. Fuzzy.
In this new realm, my screen is still loading, spinning, waiting for clarity.
There have been more changes globally, locally, and personally this year than ever before. And not just for me. For almost everyone I know.
What is happening?
Is it good?
Sometimes it feels good.
I laugh. I feel joy.
I feel a happy train coming. But maybe I see what I want, and it’s the opposite.
My tendency and core belief is — “It will work out. It’ll be fine.”
Plus gratitude. Always.
I think I’m ok. We’re ok. And if not, life will go on regardless. Maybe not America or the world as we know it. But life. Life will survive. It will live.
Life. Life. Life.
I’m a speck in the cosmos. One of billions of valuable, precious tiny lights. Trying to take in the vastness but smacked with my limitations. Our limitations.
To know limitation.
How often do we brush against it? Smash into it?
But now. We. Us. We are absolutely stretched.
Descimated and dissolved.
Undo. Do over.
If I ever come back online… when I come back online…
What will it feel like?
Will this floating, dizzy, bouncing carnival evolve to grounded calm, to knowing?