I think I think too much

Specifically, maybe I think about this shit too much.

Thinking about being in the vortex--that happy place where I'm aligned with my inner being--brings back philosophical thoughts from my childhood.

I thought a lot back then, too. Things like, "What if I'm Jesus reincarnated?" and the like. I was a pensive child, spending hours wandering through the woods, getting mosquito bitten and hiding from my grumpy family, pretending to be a character in a novel I would one day write or wondering what life was all about. My mom would tell me that life is about pleasing God, but that didn't answer why he put us here, or why he specifically put me there. It seemed illogical that someone that big would create people just to worship him and boost his ego.

Right now I'm remembering my fear of being too happy.

I had the feeling that I had the capacity for way more happiness than I was experiencing, but that if I experienced that much happiness, I might explode, at least on a spiritual level, and cease to be an individual. This was a great concern to me, so I tried not to dwell on it too much. This line of thinking often came in conjunction with the idea that maybe I was Jesus all over again, and that I'd have to do something that would be, at best, a lot of work and probably unpleasant in a lot of ways. I could see myself changing the world, and I could see how horrified everyone I knew would be in the process.

Now I believe that I am god (but no more god than anybody else, as ego gratifying as it would be to be more god than you), and I find power and joy in that, yet it's still pretty intimidating. I also believe that I can be as happy as the entire universe singing the hallelujah fucking chorus in unison and still be me, but it hasn't happened yet. Again, intimidating . . . but exciting at the same time.

I am afraid of heights, yet I love the sensation of falling. 99% of my phobia is due to the fact that I have a strong urge to jump. The other 1% is the picture of myself in a crumpled heap when I land. So, occasionally I do jump, with appropriate safety precautions. That terror that reminds me I'm alive within the safety of a water landing or a parachute is the most exhilarating, freeing sensation that I can think of. I had that sensation when I decided to leave my religion and when I decided it would be okay to have a girlfriend. I was terrified on both counts, yet the thought of continuing the way I had been felt dark and stifling, and I couldn't bear it. So I continued to take that plunge.

I wish I could find a spiritual cliff to dive off of into the vortex. To be sure, if I dove off a physical cliff I'd end up in the vortex (or maybe in a quadriplegic state), but that feels like cheating. And I'm quite curious about what will happen in my physical life as I continue this journey.

I feel I need that cliff--that once-I-decide-I'm-jumping-it's-too-late-to-change-my-mind sort of situation. Partially I like the idea of the exhilaration, of course, but partly I know my propensity towards wandering back and forth between yes and no, going forward and going back. I cling to relationships, jobs, and habits long after I know they no longer serve me. When I do walk away, the relief overwhelms any sense of loss, and I'm glad I finally went, but getting there is a long and pointless struggle.

Also, I'd like a situation where there's no half-jumping: no leaving my job to ask for it back in 6 months, for example (which I've done, which is why I have no retirement savings).

This is an image I'll meditate on. Maybe I'll find that cliff. It feels exciting.