"And I myself - soft, weak, obscene, digesting, juggling with dismal thoughts - I, too, was superfluous. Fortunately, I didn't feel it, rather it was a matter of understanding it; but I was uncomfortable because I was afraid of feeling it (even now I'm afraid - afraid that it might catch me behind my head and lift me up like a wave from the depths). I dreamed vaguely of killing myself to wipe out at least one of these superfluous existences. But even my death would have been superfluous. Superfluous, my corpse, my blood on these stones, between these plants, at the bottom of this smiling garden. And the gnawed flesh would have been superfluous in the earth which would receive my bones, at least, cleaned, peeled, as clean as teeth, it would have been superfluous: I was superfluous for eternity." p61-62
"This moment was extraordinary. I was there, motionless, paralyzed, plunged in a horrible ecstasy. But at the heart of this ecstasy, something new had just appeared, I understood the Nausea, I possessed it." p.64
Now, it might just be me, but it seems that the majority of this book is describing psychedelic experiences. Could it be that my philosophical hero, the one I look up to, was a psychonaut at heart? Is this why so many of his ideas align with mine? I wonder what Ken Wilbur would say on the subject. I wonder what he has said on the subject.
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