I might speak of the blindness of ordinary life, the blindness of the beginning of a path–I suppose it could be called a darkness, which really only means that you are realizing you were already living in darkness–and a severe myopia which, possibly, at some point, emerges into genuine sight.
We are all lost in an endless ocean without eyes, at least, without eyes we know how to use.
It is no wonder, really, that people choose to remain small. For my part, I am trying to do a better job of remembering this. I am, to be clear, still as blind as a bat, but it has occurred to me something better may be possible. That is what I seek. And I am willing to step into the void to seek it. This is the only way.
And I will add that I am beginning to see what the Buddhists mean with the Void. It is a heart vision. It is something which is felt, when you enter a world devoid of markers. You cannot float if you are unwilling to risk sinking.
Tides and waves are reliable, though: they are always moving.
I will add something, too. I was tempted to say something negative about some group, but will refrain. I will suffice myself by saying that I feel that a living meditation should feel like something is growing in you, it should feel like something is flowing, that something is alive and moving. Meditation should feel like participation. You are not sitting apart. You are joining what really matters.
If it makes you feel dull, if it makes you feel like dry wood, then you need a better system. I will again recommend Kum Nye.
In my travels, I have yet to meet anyone who has heard of it. Someday I will, and it will make me happy. And I have more to say about it, but not now. I am tired and drinking. And dreaming, like always. I see and feel a great deal in an average day. It is tiring, but I seem to be used to it.