I recently posed a question which might be paraphrased thus:
If you stand in the middle of an empty plain having removed
all external reference points – people, objects, work, hobbies, mirrors, everything
– and ask the question ‘now who am I?’ what you’re left with are the internal
attributes: likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses, ideals and
sensibilities.
But these things, like money, don’t actually exist. They’re just
abstract concepts. They only become meaningful when, like money, they’re used
as a mechanism for exchange. So, to put it simply, if we eschew our connection
with what we understand to be external reality, we’re effectively nothing.
An interesting proposition, therefore: maybe ennui is fundamentally
an identity crisis suffered by those who have the inner means to recognise,
albeit vaguely, the illusory aspect of external reality.
That’s basically what the priestess has been telling me for
two years, and I’m only just now coming to understand it. I suppose it’s why
she’s no longer with me. She’s done her job and can move on.
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