I'm Losing It in Journal

and it’s beautiful

Do ya’ll know The Crucible? Ever have a British Literature teacher like mine? Mine was great, don’t get me wrong, but he made everything so personal.
Anyways.

I’m finding its a highly accurate metaphor for self discovery.
The crucible is like an hourglass shaped tube, right? So I go inside there. It gets smaller and smaller and smaller, impossibly small. Things are coming at me from all sides - incredible pressure! Enormous fear, terror, love, joy- ALL of it- and that sloughs off. It does. I realize it’s not part of me. Suddenly there is more room, less pressure. I move further into the crucible.

And it repeats

And it repeats

And it repeats

And I realize that everything only ever existed because I put my awareness in it. If I am in the Middle of the crucible, truly, and no-thing is there with me except me. I. Then for me, there is nothing. And for me, no-thing may have existence. Not fear, or joy, or pain or sorrow or loss.

Even this metaphor now fails me because, there is something from which my awareness is made. But it isn’t physical, mental or even emotional. If it were any of those things, then I could not experience them. No, so these are separate things from I.

And yet there is some-thing

From which my awareness and I are made