Discharging By Seeing Reality
Things are very good; more and more often now I have moments (and they get longer) of seeing, knowing, feeling just how reality really is; most of the time now I'm in touch with my fundamental connectedness with the whole universe, with my inherent "goodness" (I can't think of a better word) - not for anything I've done (I finally know I don't have to earn it!), but because I'm a member of the human race, and that is just amazingly wonderful. I don't really know how to put this into words - if I use your image of the obscuring cloud of pseudoreality, it's perhaps like saying that for more and more of the time I've got my head above it and can see.
I was interested in the new Present Time of People's experiences in cleaning up an incident, particularly their experience of boredom discharge, and what it's like to be at that stage with a particular piece of material. I've never done that with a specific incident, but what was interesting in reading their descriptions of the boredom was recognising it but in a different context. That seems to be where I am with all my material at the moment that relates to past events (whether recent or distant past); I'm bored with all that and feel I have better ways of using my time. At the moment, discharge comes most readily from contemplating the beauty of the world; it's not painful discharge either. Sometimes the tears just flow but they feel to be tears that are almost on the edge of happy laughter, and indeed they often become that. Sometimes there is shaking, but it's not so much terror as amazed awe at the splendour of the universe, whether brought on by something immense or something very tiny, like a fragment of birdsong. Beside those things I find the detail of my past distresses insignificant and boring - I have no interest in giving time or attention to them. For instance, right now the sun is setting behind the trees outside my window - and the birds are singing - how can I tell you how indescribably wonderful that is? If you know, you know, and you don't need me to tell you. If you don't know, how can I ever tell you? But isn't all that, and the attempt to communicate it, more important than the detail of some past mishap?
Pam Lunn
Kenilworth, Warwickshire, England
(Present Time, No. 49, p. 27)