Unmoved
Last night, I went with two friends to see a horror movie about being trapped in a liminal space. My friends both left with a strong sense of dread, as did the other moviegoers whose conversations I overheard afterwards.
Though I found the movie visually interesting, I was unmoved. Neither frightened nor disturbed. Intrigued, I think.
But what disturbs me now is that fact. Not the film — the absence of reaction. How is it that what unsettled everyone around me couldn’t reach me?
Like life — and death — what we bring with us is more important than what is present in the situation or space. The film’s liminality was a doom-loop. A personal hell — because hell, if it were real, would be.
And perhaps I lack whatever guilt-grief-anger complex the film demanded, somehow missing me and hitting my fellow audience members. But I don’t think that’s exactly it.
Have I learned too much about our underlying reality — or learned it wrong? Anesthetized perhaps by living between worlds.
How she spoils me so.
In the spaces between this world and the next, what we encounter says more about who we are than where we are. Is there anything more terrifying than that?
#Liminality #Spirituality #Mysticism
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