Today I was walking in a crowded street-like environment and, although I cannot replicate the experience, I can recollect it and I shall attempt to put it to words.
As I meandered in the underground city, avoiding these moving obstacles, I momentarily ceased to perceive them as such and for the next twenty minutes or so, I looked directly into the eyes of everyone who passed by, as I continued in the opposing direction. Most people did not notice, although a few did. What interested me the most, however, was the huge diversity of expressions and faces that I saw.
I only saw each visage for a split second, but it did not take long before I became dissociated from my Self and I became aware of the presence of the experience. I felt intensely connected to the present moment. If anything, whatever feelings that were particular to my experience vanished and appeared to be somewhat obsolete and irrelevant. The more I looked into the doorway of others' experiences and the noted the, ehm, notable variety thereof - despite the common environment, the more I began to perceive my own experience as having a dimension of arbitrariness.
It's strange how we feel threatened when a stranger looks into our eyes.
It's strange how we need to convince ourselves that they are a stranger in order to feed the illusion that we are separate.
It's strange how we threaten others because we believe they are separate.
Agapooka
As I meandered in the underground city, avoiding these moving obstacles, I momentarily ceased to perceive them as such and for the next twenty minutes or so, I looked directly into the eyes of everyone who passed by, as I continued in the opposing direction. Most people did not notice, although a few did. What interested me the most, however, was the huge diversity of expressions and faces that I saw.
I only saw each visage for a split second, but it did not take long before I became dissociated from my Self and I became aware of the presence of the experience. I felt intensely connected to the present moment. If anything, whatever feelings that were particular to my experience vanished and appeared to be somewhat obsolete and irrelevant. The more I looked into the doorway of others' experiences and the noted the, ehm, notable variety thereof - despite the common environment, the more I began to perceive my own experience as having a dimension of arbitrariness.
It's strange how we feel threatened when a stranger looks into our eyes.
It's strange how we need to convince ourselves that they are a stranger in order to feed the illusion that we are separate.
It's strange how we threaten others because we believe they are separate.
Agapooka
