I like to describe the void as “the insubstantial netherworld where you are trapped in your own grief and pain”. The void is not fun; but it is infinitely compelling. There are things you will learn from it that you could not learn from any other experience. But like Hades, you don’t want to get stuck there, and especially not for two decades.
I had a dream one night, which the Narrator called “The Land of the Mirror and Me.” In it, there was a mirror ball at the centre of the universe, and I was freely moving around it. Each time I moved, the myriad of tiny mirror fragments reflected different angles of my motion back to me. My takeaway from the dream was this: we are all just walking around experiencing reflections of ourselves everywhere. All of us; all at once.
The main problem with the void is how it feels: purposeless, meaningless, and hopeless. After twenty years of trying unsuccessfully to navigate it, I found the key to my release was its inverse: purpose, meaning, and hope. The trick was, these things did not exist, I had to find them inside myself and reflect them onto the canvas of nothingness. Not an easy task, as it turned out.
I realized during my time there that the void is the fundamental reality underlying the universe. Learning to interact with the void, to communicate with the void, and to play with the void was perhaps what my twenty years of mental illness were really all about. Nothing will take you into the void faster or more furiously than losing your grip on consensus reality. And therein lies the scary part: you must go in alone.
The void is a teacher and a healer; it is the fountain of all creative endeavours. To use an analogy, it is the space between the notes without which music would not exist.
i agree with this, i flew through the void at high speed in 2011 (april – august). i documented it all well too – watch this space!