Khalid Hussain (khalid_hussain) wrote,
Khalid Hussain

The void at the center

Yesterday in Rosen, the practitioner focused on some muscles across my shoulder blades and asked me if I had any thoughts or images about them.

I told her that they felt like steel girders, like in a railrway bridge over a road. I had a vision of a railway bridge in a dark corner of a city, supported on either side by large stones and masonry, and void in the middle.

The topic came up about that middle--the heart--that one might ordinarily think of as a living center and source of vitality: where was it?

Evidently it was in hiding, flickering in and out of awareness.

Last night I went to a concert on campus. It was a faculty showcase concert, featuring our new faculty members. I had been to many concerts before, but this time I felt nothing. I watched the performers on stage (and saw ego), and I saw members of the audience responding with the standard gestures (applause, standing ovations for everything). I participated rather lamely in those gestures, but I was mainly watching what was going on around me and remarking that I felt nothing of my own inside of me.

As I was driving home I began to wonder if the part of me that had been so attached to classical music since I was a child was finally giving way. Perhaps sometimes we die to aspects of ourselves while still maintaining a social role that implies that we are still involved with those things. Marriages sometimes turn into shells of their former selves. Why not careers?



  • Nedjelja, 1. zu-l-hidždže 1442

    I recently had a video chat with the friend who introduced me to LJ. In recent years I have had few opportunities to converse with spiritual…

  • Nedjelja 15 Ševval 1441

    I have begun reading a book by the workshop presenter I mentioned in the last post. This is something I had purchased for myself in late 2018 with…

  • Subota 7 Ševval 1441

    Last Saturday I participated in an online workshop on dreams and astrology. Participants were encouraged to bring a dream (recent or from the past)…

  • Post a new comment


    Comments allowed for friends only

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded