Skip to main content

Down the Rabbit Hole

Warning: this post contains spoilers for the film Inception.

In the recently released blockbuster film Inception there is a deciding moment when a wife begs her husband to take a leap of faith to join her in jumping off the ledge of a building to their death. She is convinced that in dying together, they will end up in their alternate reality that they have built while being hooked up together into a common dream state. The wife has come to believe that the dream state they've experienced together is the actual reality to which they belong. Much to her husband's dismay, he is unable to stop her as she plummets to her death in her waking state, leaving behind not only him, but their two children.

Her 'play' with alternate realities has left her not knowing which end is up, and she has fallen victim to believing that her reality is not of her current waking state--a lot like the mass suicides we've all heard about where the note reads--don't worry about us, returning to our mother ship. XO

Of course, the film managed to create and glorify a very stable version of reality in the waking state by pitting it against dream states, which can be highly manipulated by intruders, whose job it is to actually enter into a victim's subconscious, with the aim of implanting an idea for proliferation into the victim's psyche (the ultimate goal to affect outcomes in the victim's waking reality, for the gain of a client who has hired these dream architects).

All this show of realities and alternate realities, and the risk of getting lost in them, certainly got me thinking about my own perceptions, and mostly about the point at which one might find themselves down the rabbit hole, living a reality meant to set your free, but really just code for delusional.

The big question: when do you know if you've gone off the deep-end?!

Can anyone really answer this? I mean, who, really, is sane?

It seems in the end, everyone has to disregard something to maintain their stance, to be able to claim sanity.

I guess, perhaps, there is the obvious, like if you have a date with aliens or a propensity for drinking Kool-Aid in large groups-- you just might want to watch out, but then again who knows? I'm sure these people felt sane at the time. And for the rest of us who live on and within such a widely varied continuum of reality--how could we ever know?

But isn't this just another perfect ploy of a dualistic mind to keep you in check? The aim is just that, to get you to believe that you could lose your sanity to insanity--take one step too far off the edge. You'd have to be the first to believe it, because you couldn't really measure it on any scale. Yes, at least up to what we would deem obvious indicators of insanity, all measurements up to this would remain perfectly subjective; dodging diagnoses made at the mercy of those who believe they have a handle on reality, who have possibly been given too much power, who have agendas and belief systems that can't help but flavor their objectivity.

And isn't this fear of insanity the perfect protective mechanism for the ego, to insure that it can hold its projections safely in place, keep its victims paralyzed in fear of moving and taking that one step too many?

So, where to go from here?

I have to simplify. I only have one life (at least, perhaps, until I die). I want to feel good in this life, because when I feel good I am peaceful, and I feel I have much to contribute to our social experiment, not to mention more energy to do so. That feels sane to me. I feel good when I love. I feel good when I question my thoughts about others, and find out that I love them. It feels good when I feel my grip loosening. It feels good when I recognize this in others, because we can all just get along. I love when I find out that you are just a reflection of me. That feels sane to me. Of course, I am sure all this is up for debate.

If anyone asks me to jump with them, so to speak, I simply have to check in with this internal guide of how does it feel? I might not go, even if it would be 'for the best' because it might not feel good, even if only because my internal gauge may be overrun with fear. Yet, how I feel would still be the perfect indicator to trust, because I clearly am not ready to go. The fear would keep me from moving and doing something that I am not ready to do. Later, when I become less fearful, I might be ready. Then it might feel easy to go.

Either way, I would be right, because my version of reality at the time would be unable to create but one possible decision--the right one at the time.

Now, if I let the person drag me out and, heaven forbid, push me, or worse guilt or scare me into going, that wouldn't feel good. I would want to watch out for that.

More on perception:

In the case of the movie, because it glorifies the awake state, the observer is led by the hand to believe that the wife is wrong, and that she is a victim of her inability to sort out reality. But as we know, we could, and probably have watched the same film from her perception. Her version could feel equally plausible to us.

The truth is that we just can't help being attracted or repelled to ideas based on the environment in which they grow. The right conditions or conditioning will grow any idea and it will feel as true or as not true depending on where we grew.

We just can't escape it, and we can only understand reality based on our limited understanding of what we think we know, and of what concepts we think we can grasp!

Doesn't that just make you want to surrender already to no-thingness?!

Okay, that's all folks!


  1. Brooke dear, I trust your sanity, because I trust the lovingkindness of your heart.

  2. "Brooke dear, I trust your sanity, because I trust the lovingkindness of your heart."

    I'm with Elizabeth on this one... :)


Post a Comment

♥ Thank you for taking the time connect with me here. ♥

Popular posts from this blog

RIP Poltergeist

After over ten years of an incredibly intense journey as a seeker, I find myself lying fallow. Taking a rest. When I first discovered this uncomfortable fact — threat to the hamster wheel that was my spiritual rat race, I surrendered for dead, but something wouldn’t let that fact sit as truth. I was lying fallow, but this implied that after a good rest, fruit could follow. This had nothing to do with death.

I am humbled at the courage it takes to write. For many years I kept a blog read by only a handful of very supportive people, and you’d think that after sharing writing for so long with perfect strangers, writing would have gotten easier. Actually, it got harder. In fact, at one point I was so paralyzed, I just stopped writing altogether. It was just too vulnerable. There was no trust there anymore, and I attributed any courage I had had to my youthful ignorance.

However, life continues, as it inevitably does, and there is still this pang to write, and it grows stronger and strong…

Here With You

Photo by Daria Obymaha on
Sinking lips into your tiny round cheeks, I'm home. Holding your tiny head to my heart, caressing my chin to your downy baby 'chicken fluff' we'll come to call it later, I'm home. Taking in your baby magic scent, I'm home. Pressing nose to nose, forehead to forehead, staring wide-eyed into each other's eyes, I'm home. Toting little bum and dangling legs around my middle, I'm home. Filled with purpose as you point where to go, what you see, I'm home. Your eyes, new windows to a world I thought I knew, I'm home. Holding you with fever, picking you up when you fall, I'm home. Navigating the years between, boxes of your firsts, every paint brush and pen stroke a miracle, I'm home. Saving pottery penguins, turtles, shiny red roses, a burrito with all the fixings immortalized in clay, I'm home. Kid sister fruit and craft stand on the corner, change clinking in coin purse, magic for the neighborhood…

Partaking of the Fruit

Photo by Anya Vasilieva on

What I most struggle with in creative writing is that there are some ideas that just feel like they belong in the ether, in the natural born clouds. They aren’t meant to be pinned down, and every time I try to pin them down into a practical form on a page, I wound them a little bit, and must throw them back up into the ether for repair, to restore their more nebulous characteristics. This content isn’t supposed to have legs and weight, and to make noise when it walks, or to have such things as a name and defining characteristics. Rather, just whiffs of possibility that hint at an undercurrent of parallel worlds so vast and amazing as to put any Tolkien or Rowling to shame. Its just supposed to hang there, ripe for plucking, but the plucker beware. The fruit bruises easily.

And yet, there are those books that seem to pin down something that doesn’t maim the central cast of characters, and in fact broadens the material into something that changes al…