You’re standing on a frozen lake with a pickaxe in hand. You don’t know why you have to do this, what strange compulsion prompts you. Obviously, breaking through the ice means certain death, but there you are. All you can think is “screw it, I’m busting through.” You’re like an ant in a 2D world trying to break into 3D. No more living on the surface; it no longer satisfies this gnawing hunger.
You want the “thickness” of life.
Tink, tink, tink, then Tunk! suddenly it all falls away: land, illusion, form…. you peer down, warily. Somehow you don’t fall… something is holding you up. You gasp in wonder at the emptiness below.
It’s sometimes called “Falling Upwards,” but you never believed it. But now, finally, there’s no more doubt. You can finally attest – after all those years of terrifying fear – that there’s really nothing “there” to be afraid of. You had to find out for yourself, and now you know.
You are connected to the ceiling.