Why is there snow, and how does a murderer let the darkness within his soul become so grave that he becomes su

Question

Have you ever read one of those books where it’s like there is a boy in a room, and it’s separate from you. You are an onlooker, an observer. You can almost peer through the walls. You can almost see him through this wall that does not exist, except it exists in the book. What if something happens simultaneously at once where you are both the boy and the onlooker? The boy he is absorb in his action. He is absorbed within himself. He is absorbed in the moment. I am the boy, and I am the onlooker. It is weird, but it feels like there is some kind of detachment from myself. I am in the moment of the moment, but at the same time it’s almost as if I am outside looking in at myself—but I can’t really see myself. It is such that I am there, but yet I am elsewhere. I have so much to say, so many questions to ask—and at the same time nothing. Everything is a blank. I mean what is there to say, ask really? All there is is curious wonder. There are no questions, because the answer to most questions is it is what it is. I find that questions such as what is ego, and what is true happiness are questions to which there is no one answer—but yet we sit there and ask them anyways. For what? What purpose do such questions serve? Are these not questions that one can answer for oneself?

All of this is so strange and unfamiliar, and I don’t even know who to talk to. I want to talk to someone, but I feel that my thoughts have traveled a realm where they might have become inexpressible. There is more than just this detachment. There has been something that feels like a muted heart as if I am only ruled by my mind. My feelings are not devoid, but they are nonsensical. I am aware of their existence, because I can feel them form on my face. My mind is aware of them--but not my heart. How am I functioning when I feel so unfunctional you know? At moments weariness comes over, because I can’t grasp some unknown, and I cannot find myself within myself. I have so much to say, but yet there is nothing to say you know. I don’t know if curious wonder is the right word for what I am experiencing, but I don’t know what else.

I notice how the wind influences one particular branch on the tree, how in its subtle movements the branch is pulling itself towards the wind but yet it is withdrawing, pulling itself away from the wind so that it appears to be betwixt within its own occurrence. I am that branch. I am heaving steadily forward (towards the direction of the wind), but yet held in place by the undivided tree.


Perhaps, someone can IM me if you think you can even begin to talk to me? For all I know this can be the most convoluted question you ever encountered. I wish that people would be honest and say what their heart truly means. So honestly tell me what you take of this question and what you take of me, and not just pass it aside just because it is easier to do so.

Answer 1

What you are experiencing is called detachment. Freud held that it occurs when the ego becomes separated from the personality. Others claim is the conscious mind and the unconscious mind acting simultaneously. On an MRI it can be seen to be an activation of competing areas of the brain brought about by hormonal disturbances or altered brain chemistry.

These manifestations usually go away with age and time. If they don't, it's time to see a doctor.

Answer 2

There is snow because water molecules freeze at 32°F.

As for the rest, I think you need to take some time and truly focus. Your mind and heart are in a state of wild fluctuation. Neither is harnessed, and neither will settle. Until you center your consciousness, you will continue to vacillate between forces and be overwhelmed by them.

[add] Sophist makes more of the comparisons that I am describing.

Answer 3

You need a change of scenery, go explore some place you've never been. It will force your mind to be in the present.