How do you talk about something that you can’t identify? There is a place in my life, in my mind, that is completely blocked off to any access. It is a sort of cave or trench or black hole or bubble or vault that I’ve become aware of, and yet cannot penetrate. What’s more than that is the fact that I can’t even come close. Penetration would involve closeness. I know this thing exists because it has prevented me from achieving clarity, happiness, enlightenment, wisdom, peace of mind, acceptance and love for myself. I HAVE come close to those things. And one thing prevents me from going all the way. . .The Horrible Truth.
Maybe I could conquer it if I knew what it was. Maybe I could accept it, share it, kill it, hate it, or get rid of it entirely if I knew what it was. But I don’t. It remains down there in the Mariana Trench of my existence. It lies deeper than my life, deeper still than my soul or my personality. It is and has been the one thing that I can’t solve. The Rubik’s Cube of everything that makes up my very consciousness. It wouldn’t even be a problem if I wasn’t aware of it.
I have been on a number of psychedelic “explorations.” This was how I first came to awareness of The Horrible Truth (THT). I would get caught up in the usual cycle of euphoria and premature enlightenment and as I came closer to “solving” my body problem, ego loss, fighting my way out of the torture of the “bad trip” game reality part of the psychedelic experience, I seemed to always run into this major blockage or Horrible Truth that I couldn’t face. At first I thought, “Maybe I’m just gay and I can’t accept it.” But it seems to run deeper than sexuality. That’s ridiculous. Then I thought that maybe THT is that I’m dead and this life is nothing more than my mental struggle and lack of acceptance of purgatory into Hell. But that wouldn’t be that bad. Not bad enough to be considered “Horrible.” Or Maybe I’m crazy and all of this is my grand delusion while other people see a crazy guy and are simply humoring me. . .I’ve worried about all kinds of scenarios. One of the most delusional is the one where I’m the chosen savior, or Christ figure, or Neo and I’m fucking it all up and fate of humanity rests on my evolution of consciousness.
There are, of course, fears that stem from THT. This is what prevents me from having a happy relationship or a deep and meaningful friendship with anybody. Fear of intimacy, closeness, exposure, shame, vulnerability. . .all these fears are branches of The Horrible Truth. Except The Horrible Truth isn’t a tree. That would be too simple. It is a place in my life, but also outside of my life that I just can’t figure out. Fear is basically the opposite of love. The way I understand it is like this: There are issues, challenges, obstacles, and other fear-based troubles in my life that I need to overcome in order to expand and grow into a higher being. The avoidance of those fears isn’t going to kill me, but I will not be happy and living my life to the full potential. . .This time, anyway. I believe in cycles of growth like a Slinky coiled up, or even more exact, a tall tower or building with infinite floors and staircases. I will stay on a particular floor until I’m able to climb to the next higher level of the building. Likewise, I can avoid a problem and stay on that floor solving other problems or conquering other fears or just trying to be patient and learning something while I’m stuck. To a degree, I can go up or down with developmental limitations, but will always return to the lesson that needs to be understood. I can even go backwards and gather knowledge of past lessons learned, but forgotten in order to better assist me in the task at hand.
My relationship/emotional problems or handicaps keep me more or less stuck on a particular floor of my personal tower. I get so far, but end up retreating over and over until the problem is solved. I live a life full of shame. I always have. I am ashamed of things now that I wasn’t a few years ago. I got sober and decided to climb the tower again without the aid of drugs or alcohol. It’s a slow process and there are hardships along the way, but my hope is that eventually I will reach a level that I only caught a small glimpse of when I was tripping on mushrooms or smoking DMT.
Some people don’t care about solving problems, or exploring the deep sea, space, the microcosm, etc, etc. Those things can go unsolved and they (the people) can go on living their shallow existences probably free from the burden of conscience or even curiosity. How did the world come to be? Who cares. What is at the bottom of the Mariana Trench? Who cares. Throw trash out the car window? What does it matter? What is beyond our solar system? Who gives a shit! Those people may have things buried deep down in the trenches of their minds, but they don’t care to even look. They might spend their entire lives going around in circles on the same floor of their tower and have no desire to climb higher. They can go on because after a while they don’t even know that there is anything to look for . . .But not me. I wonder, I search, I ask, I explore because I want to know. I need to know! But THT evades me still. I could be in the middle of a terribly uncomfortable and awkward conversation with a girlfriend and suddenly she says, “I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.” NO FUCKING SHIT THERE’S SOMETHING I’M NOT TELLING YOU! I’m not telling you because I don’t know what it is that I’m hiding. That problem will always occur until I either die alone, or get to the bottom of the trench. Or. . .find a way to raise THT up by means of a flotation device or scavenger probe robot, remote controlled submersible, or an extending telescope that would somehow work like a drain snake and take pictures of THT while it lies down there in the dark depths doing push-ups and getting stronger. There could be things hiding down there that I don’t want to see. There could be monsters, creatures, insects, blind crawling things that have evolved down there in the trench and don’t need oxygen, or sunlight, or love. Those creatures adapted to the trench and its bowels of darkness. But I need to know what they are. Ignorance is bliss as long as there’s no awareness of the ignorance. Then the jig is up and the bliss stops.