Insane or Inspired? Book 2: Part 1
By: Jay Campbell
Tags: Fiction, Feminism, Suicide, Women, Literature

[ For prologue, see: https://jcshakti.medium.com/insane-or-inspired-book-2-prologue-e08782b18ba7 ]

Note to Self

Her name was Annabelle. I called her Tinkerbell, or ‘Tink’, on account of her blonde hair. She’d often talk about overdosing, but I didn’t believe that she’d ever go through with it. And now I felt guilty, because I’d been ignoring her; ignoring everyone, in fact. I had consciously divorced myself from my former life, and that included my former friends. I wasn’t being malicious. I just couldn’t face trying to explain to them what had happened to me. And, besides, the person who they were friends with no longer existed. Not really. And so I was almost doing them a favour.

That’s how I justified it to myself, anyway. But I was also aware that my behaviour was a classic example of cult mentality. I certainly understood why it might be perceived that way. People didn’t understand, however. Their perception was simply that: A perception. And it was based on the belief that their cult, their culture, by virtue of having more members, was somehow better or more natural. But was it? Well, no. And this wasn’t just my perspective, but the perspective of the world’s greatest minds, greatest thinkers, and the most enlightened individuals who had ever lived, including the spiritual avatars. It didn’t mean that all cults were good, of course, or even preferable to mainstream society. But neither were cults inherently bad, by definition, which was precisely what the term had falsely come to imply. Just as the term ‘conspiracy theory’ had erroneously come to imply something that wasn’t true, at least in the minds of the brainwashed masses, who had collectively failed to recognise their own victimhood.

And, let’s be clear about this: Tink was a victim of society. For it had failed to offer her the kind of environment in which she could thrive, and be happy. Her entire life, up to this point, in fact, had been about cramming her head with information, so that she could earn money. Yet money was just a concept. Human beings had become slaves to concepts, and to those who controlled those concepts; those narratives. We had been completely consumed by stories and abstractions, of one sort or another, to the point of having lost all connection with the simple truth of our own being; the simple truth of our own love, for one another. Not romantic love, or familial love, but divine love. And it was this divine love that had caused me to leave Haven, in order to sit at the hospital bedside of ‘another me’; another version of me; another ‘goddess in the flesh’, as I had come to know myself, and therefore all women.

Tink’s suicide attempt didn’t reflect a desire to die, but rather a burning hatred of the world, of patriarchy, and of the insanity that it epitomised. That much was clear from the comments that she apparently made, in a suicide forum, shortly before taking the pills. “I’m not doing this because I hate life,” she wrote, “but because I love life. And whatever this world is, in terms of human civilisation, the one thing it isn’t is life. Not by my definition, anyway, or by any definition that makes any sense to me. Life, after all, is synonymous with love, or should be. And whilst I’ve tried to live my life in such a way as to demonstrate this, I realise now that it’s futile. I haven’t given up on myself, I’ve given up on my species. For they are a deaf and blind species; deaf to even their own deafness, and blind to even their own blindness. And, as such, they cannot be helped. For they don’t even realise that they need help, or that there is something very wrong with the way that they’re living; with the way that they’re interacting with each other, and with nature herself. I am perceived as the insane one for pointing this out, in fact, and for trying to swim against the current. But I challenge anyone to see this world as it truly is, as I do, and not immediately blow their brains out. If they had a gun, of course. I myself do not have a gun, since I live in England, but have nevertheless reached the point of needing to pull the trigger.”

Tink’s hatred of the world was a natural consequence of being in-love with love. It was the other side of the coin, if you will, since it’s impossible to have one without the other. Even the Bible speaks about the impossibility of loving the world, at the same time as loving the Divine. For the love of everything good, which Divinity represents, implies a hatred of the opposite, which the world represents. One is the literal antithesis of the other, classically symbolised by light and dark. And we are all a mixture of both. But we don’t have to be. For ‘darkness’ is not something real, in and of itself, but simply the absence of light. This is why it’s said that the human ego, along with the world itself, are illusory phenomena. And it’s true. It’s why it’s possible to commit ego suicide, for example, and yet continue living. Not just continue living, but actually begin to live, for the first time! It’s not that one ceases to see the darkness, or to hate the darkness. However, in the absence of ego, the darkness is seen for what it truly is, and what it truly isn’t. And this new perspective is what I hoped to share with Tink, once she awoke from her coma. Until then, I was attempting to bring her up-to-speed, on everything that had happened.

“So, where do I even start with all of this? For me, it began when my sister took me to visit this mysterious commune, in Cornwall. Okay, let’s call it a cult. Only, this cult had begun to influence the wider community, which had adopted some of its ideas, concerning gender. The local cafe, for example, was free for women to eat at, because it was subsidised by men. Crazy, huh? Anyway, Melanie had been sent there to do a story about the town, and interview some of the locals. That’s how she found out about it, in the first place.

“However, she quickly realised that she was dealing with something very profound, and decided that I needed to see it. The story gets really bizarre, from this point forward. But, in essence, what this community claims is that gender is a reflection of our spiritual essence. Only, because Source, or God, is feminine in nature, it is women who truly represent the physical embodiment of Divinity. Not men, and certainly not one man, exclusively. That’s a deliberate inversion of the truth, apparently.

“Yes, men are divine too, because they came out of the Goddess. But they are not the Goddess, and never can be. Which is why aspects of the divine masculine rebelled against the Goddess and attacked Earth. For they knew that the Goddess Herself was incarnated here, in the flesh. That’s what the ancients understood, too, which is why the original human religion was Goddess worship, a practise that also recognised the divine supremacy of all women.

“Anyway, the Goddess eventually decided to rectify the situation by sending her firstborn son, whose human name is Jay. He’s the leader of the movement, but he doesn’t seek any praise for himself. Oh, and get this: My sister was apparently sent by the Goddess to assist him. How weird is that? There’s plenty more I could you, but you need to digest the basics first. I hope that you can hear me, Tink, because I want you to know that you were absolutely right. I mean, concerning what you wrote. You’d actually intuited what I myself had to learn. Which makes you very special. So special, in fact, that Jay wants to meet you. But first you need to wake-up. The real life, as you call it, is beginning to blossom on this planet. And you can become part of it. Just open your eyes for me, Tink. Come on, you can do it. Show me some of that fairy magic.”

To Be Continued

https://goddessinreallife.wordpress.com/