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Sometimes the world seems to loosen it’s tight grip a little. The insistent pressing-in of stuff, of time passing, of all the billions of things around and of all the other people here with me and all their stories; all of it relaxes and everything feels at a distance. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, although it is a bit strange. I wonder if it’s like that when you die. Suddenly the world falls away and you realise what was your reality is now a dream. The shadows on the cave wall.

When I was a child, I would lie sleepless in my narrow bed at night and I could feel the walls of my bedroom receding, pulling back and back until I knew I could never reach them. My bed was like a boat floating in that vast empty space between. Then the walls would come rushing in again until they were close enough to touch, then too close, crowding me in and making me feel smothered. Then they would expand away again. This expansion and contraction could continue for what seemed like a long time.

At other times I would hear feet marching in the street, soldiers marching closer and closer and then farther away again. We lived in the suburbs in safe, peaceful Melbourne. There were no armies parading the streets. But still I heard the soldiers marching often as I lay in my bed.

I have only the lens of my mind with which to perceive this world. So often the perception does not match what I am told should be there. Is my lens distorted? Or is the world? The only way I can live my life with any peace is to accept that I don’t know and it’s okay not to know. But here in this blog I can wonder aloud. Then set it aside and go have a cup of tea.

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