Unable to Move

Over the last couple of weeks, there has been something strange arising in me.  It is the curious inability to move.  Movement is becoming more and more difficult, as though I cannot rouse myself to do anything about the world.  Curiously, everything is still getting done for the most part... yet... I can't seem to move my mind beyond the scope of my inner, and curiously new, boundaries.

There is a space, deep within me, that is demanding stillness, quiet.  The things of the world... for better and for worse... seem to be none of my concern.  I truly am unconcerned.  When I put my name on the blog so many months ago, "Unconcerned Citizen" seem to spring onto the blog-o-sphere with a vengeance.  It was though, somewhere deep within this shell I call me, some prescience... some new thing... knew where I was going.

It was the weirdest feeling to be running all around this weekend and feeling as though the world were coming at me... I was not moving... the world is moving towards me.  I have become gravitational... magnetic... I remain and somehow by remaining draw things to me.  It is an odd feeling... one of the oddest feelings that I have ever experienced.

I have felt before like a flow... like something flowing through me is taking over.  This is more like the taking over has occurred and everything is moving in reverse.  There are things changing in my life, and I can feel these major shifts occurring in business, relationships, residence, and every other imaginable sphere of life.  I feel no need to meet any of their demands.  I cannot meet any of their demands.  I am immobile.  There is nothing here to move.  I am simply watching... watching the gears of the former engine of emotion and thought wind on their way without me.

Will I ever move?  It seems to take so much effort to simply care about what is happening "out there," that I would be interested to see if this is simply another form of depression.  I think about this sometimes... like with an idle curiosity... that doesn't seem to touch this internal stillness.  I would think I was depressed except, occasionally, I feel such great joy and gratitude about everything that I seem to be filled to the brim with this sensation (rather than visual) of light or effervescence...

"Thy Will Be Done," seems to be the only phrase that seems anywhere close to anything that moves me.  This body seems to walk about, engage, and, occasionally, hold forth on the ways of the world, the beauty of God... or something... and will attend various events, various happenings in the world.  I don't know if I am stuck somewhere or if this is simply another part of the process that someday will integrate into the whole... and be seen for what it is.  I don't know.  I can't really seem to bring myself to care.

I am understanding more and more the power... the real power of love... which stems from truth.  In all the words that I hear, the images I see, the bustle of this strange place, there is a thread of listening and abiding that hears for me... sees for me.  I was watching a movie last night with a lover who has recently come into my life... Henry and June.  Instead of the sexy images, the world of lover's drama and steamy exchanges that I think was intended by the film, I simply heard the attack of one upon another... relentless hammering... and what I heard was what I can always hear.  It was merely one voice of no substance speaking to another voice of no substance, both trying to make the other into something they are not.  It was the voice of limit... the voice of separation... the voice of one deftly engineered puppet of consciousness calling to another puppet for realization.  "Please make me real," seemed to be the cry... "... make my mock-up speak, love, and verify my depravity with yours."

There is no unseeing once you see.  Once the earth has been seen as simply part of a grand universe, it is hard to make it the end all and be all... the center of that universe.  One simply becomes too big to fit back in the box.  I would say that I am too big to fit back in the box, but I wouldn't even know what box I came out of nor my current level of expansiveness.  I can't bring myself to really care either... it is simply too much effort, and I want to be still some more.