Even the mind has limits. But as soon as I mention “limitlessness,” I create a referent to what is just outside my reach. I capture the unquantifiable inside Christmas wrapping paper. Shake it, feel the packaging with my fingertips. Give myself something to talk about.
The mind isn’t “limitless,” but the mind can contain it; that’s the authority of words.
Today I’m experiencing a sensation I haven’t felt in years. Pain has a way of sweeping a whole rainbow of emotions through you in a single moment. Like trying to remember who it was that enjoyed that song the first time you heard it, or finding that old hoodie at the back of your closet.
What kinds of things do you do to silence your unease? You know it’s going to catch up to you, but you just need a few more minutes. A few more hours. You’re in traffic – much too busy to deal with anything that could rock your world.
It’s time to start a silence habit.
Sensory Deprivation Chamber – 21st century, we call it, “recreation.” A luxury. 1000 years ago, it was a form of torture. Few minds could survive it.
“I will strike you with madness, blindness, and confusion” (Deut. 28:28).
I go for a run, or listen to music. I have a life to live – bills to pay. No time to notice the time I don’t have to notice. No time to realize that time was all I ever had.
“On the day you eat of it, you will surely die.” And I did – and I have been, ever since then.
But enough about me. How cold was it when you first came out that door? Morning joy hurting your eyes; the unceasing tide, blue skies? Living in and preparing for the future – when did it pass you by?
Now I’m hovering over the waves, wings spread. Serenity. Is it the moon, the endless, snow-peaked ranges, dotted with tall, ever-green cliches? Pores open, to let the wind pass through. If you were nothing, invisible, absorbed into nature, then you could continue to ignore all these questions… for just a little while longer.