when there clearly is no choice

the event of "popping out" of my life was wonderful. at first. and still is, when i watch the world unfold from a place of curiousity, with no mental overlay toward outcomes or desires. it's life of a whole different order of being.

and then there are the moments when i remember the remnants of ego, dangling there, left with absolutely no choice, no control, and only the vaguest space of witness in which to hang out and i am hit like a ton of bricks.

it's all fruit and flowers to talk about not existing as a separate self and unity and oneness and freedom. but when the mind has to face that reality, boy howdy...

to say "i am the awareness" is false, because the statement and the thought come up in the awareness itself. but the feeling is of that calibur right now, because i know i'm not the body, the mind, the emotions etc. i watch the hands and feet move in the world, watch the thoughts and feelings come and go, and it's all a pictureshow. the only space left to hide is the witness, to have a vague identity as "the one who watches this" and that is where the minds last shards are wrapped up and tangled.

so, considering i conceptualized this lack of a self for almost two years now, i guess it seems strange and surprising how much it wounds me to know it is so. i don't think the mind could have it any other way - it remains afraid of death until the end. but then, what's equally fascinating is how vastly i feel absolutely not a single thing about any of it. i could well be the most batshit human being right now (loveable too in all that silly glory) but also there is just this neverending space for all the world to happen. and what is happening now is angela is going mad, and the awareness just accepts that for what it is.

okay.

it rolls this way, and its fascinating. if i had any strains of wisdom girl left in me i would be ashamed to write this, to expose that i am looking at this dark, dark place....

but it's clear. there's the situation called "i'm done" which i hit on christmas. the death of angela as a separate self.

but "ITS done" is something else.

and until i stop batting about the silly notion of having some choice in any of this, until i accept the fact that the only way to live is in a freefall of unknowing, this borderland will be what i experience.

so. waking up. sounds fun, huh?