That’s the feeling here.
There is the experience of having an “I”,
a separate self limited to this being known as “me”,
a being physically confined to this human body.
And there is the experience of a mind
in control of this body (at least to some degree);
a lonely mind separate and detached from the world-out-there,
and yet at the same time part of that world, confined by it.
And then there is the nagging sense that all of this
— this “I”, this being, this body, this mind —
has been hijacked.
But here’s the kicker:
it’s as if those very elements
that seem to be hijacked
are also themselves the hijackers.
The plural “hijackers” seems well suited
because there is not a sense
of it being some singular source,
something to put the proverbial finger on
and say “there you are, I’ve got you!”
Rather, it somehow seems more like
immense, fragmented thing;
like a swarm of army ants,
of insignificant parts
and yet unstoppable in its entirety.
And somehow “I” am all caught up in the mess.
And it really does seem like a mess.
And somewhere in the background
there is this looming certainty
that it doesn’t need to be this way,
and that it wouldn’t be such a mess
if these hijackers were not in control.
But then what? What to do?
There is *sort of* this desire
to change the situation,
but there is also a sense
that that desire originates
with the hijackers themselves,
and it all just seems like a clever ruse.
So the desire is unconvincing
and motivation is therefor lacking.
And its all a little exasperating.
Yet there is this sense
that the hijackers should not be in control,
but then who should?
But how could it be that God is ever *not* in control?
And any idea of taking control
away from the hijackers
and giving it back to God
seems suspiciously like a
contrived by the hijackers
in order to stay in control.
Because what does that even mean, “God”?
Any thought about who or what is this God
seems to lead right back to those same hijackers;
an empty concept they created
as some sort of trojan horse,
a “God” costume that they all pile into
and then put on the act
of handing control over to this impostor.
In the end, I can’t explain it.
I can’t find the words,
I can’t even find the thoughts.
I just have this sense
that something is in control
of this experience that I am having,
and that something is not *really* me.
There is a profound feeling of stuck-ness here.
A feeling of off-track-ness.
And something immense and profound and powerful is calling,
stirring up this aching, heart-felt sense
that it doesn’t need to be this way.
I don’t know what to do, or not-do.
I just want to be free.