The Internals of My Hypomania, #2

This morning I watched the jazz pianist Hiromi perform Canon in D Major. I was so captivated and entranced by her performance: it truly felt like she was possesed, as Plato would say, by a muse. In my words, I declared her "possessed by the truth of God." This statement itself is grandiose, and it feels wrong to even think because it detracts from her internal state during the performance. If God can only exist in absence, then being possessed by "the truth of God", which is to say beauty and order (simply the logos), is more appropriate. The performance was charged with supernatural meaning.

Did you notice my last paragraph is sprawling with disparate but connected ideas?

Of course, I immediately ordered a ticket to see her performance. It wasn't too costly for me (a great privilege, I know), and it felt like I had to make the purchase immediately. It would feel wrong not to do it. Luckily my spending during hypomanic episodes stays relatively low despite the increase in 'urgent' purchases.

A very telling sign is, which is unfortunate it happens to be like this for me, the fact that I made substantial progress cleaning my home. It already looks and feels much better even if it is still heavily disordered. This is a massive win, which I usually do not have the energy for. There comes to a point where entropy accumulates, and the energy required to fight against that herculean mass is extremely costly. Today I have the energy.

Another sign is my decreased social inhibition. Here is a conversation from a Discord friend server, where I am 'M' and my friend is 'D':

M — Yesterday at 22:57 ascending towards god rn D — Yesterday at 22:58 as you should. i should do that too M — Yesterday at 23:15 Prayer is a method to empty ourselves towards God, and the engine of divine love is kenosis, or the removal of the self. In this way, both a sincerely praying believer and the atheist who surrenders himself to studying math (the language of God’s grammar) with his whole body and spirit are receiving remnants of God’s divine love

[link to weil's school study essay included in the message]

Intense, isn't it?

While I usually do not tell my friends of these things because they are free to ask me about my ideas if they desire, it felt like I had to talk about the mechanics of prayer. I had just condensed thousands of words of my writings into three sentences for my friend who did not ask for that.

Probably the most obvious sign is that despite my sleep getting somewhat inverted, again for the third time in a week (!), I didn't feel depressed waking up to darkness. I only felt a strong happiness.

I also had an urge to reach out to an estranged family member (I am currently the estranged one from them all) whom I deeply love, and I know they would love to hear from me. But it would feel cruel to tell them: "I am alive, I am writing things, I will reach out again sometime next year", so I am choosing to not do so. I hope to reduce harm as much as I can. Even when my doctor asked me, "have you ever felt like driving really fast?", my response was this: "I don't want to hurt people."

Likewise, I have some grandiose thoughts right now. But to be fair, I have demonstrated extreme capability in any field I have chosen. Except for physical tasks, which I am incompetent at. So the annoying thing is that I have grandiose thoughts that are supported by empirical fact. The line between arrogance and recognition is razor-thin.

In previous episodes, my body felt seized by the divine fire of God's grace. In those episodes, it felt like an ember within my chest that grew into an enveloping flame across my body. This is not metaphor; the feeling can only be described as being seized by grace.

This episode is much more mild. Maybe because of a heavy-duty sleeping medication I took yesterday. But it feels like I have a gentle flame enveloping my body like a lightweight mask, present but only obvious with focus. My perception of my being through my consciousness at this moment remains focused on the external world rather than this internal flame.

Considering that most hypomanic episodes result in an episode of great despair and agony, I try to enjoy the good episodes while I can. Just like last time, I am listening to ecstatic, quickly moving electronic music. I feel like the music has a grip on my soul, and each thunder in the bass cascades a ripple through my soul. I feel connected to everything; I feel connected to love.

The last thing I want to do right now is to stop listening to music. I just want this feeling to last forever. I don't know how long or for how many days this will last. I am very lucky to have incredible insight and, mostly, reality-testing skills, so I can direct my hypomania where I wish (mostly!).

Music is the only thing that feels like it can represent how I feel right now. I took a break for 5 minutes from writing this just to close my eyes and bask in the feeling of grace entering my body.

Love is the only word I can think of right now.

Simply

love.

Note:

I just wrote the essay about ecstatic love, and now I am crying and sobbing over the words 'love' and 'joy'. I wish for this to never end.