Coming Back to Life, Perhaps?

At my core since his death has been a lack of purpose, under a veneer of tasks and responsibilities, interests and engagement. Just lately, though, I catch myself in moments of new vigour, emotional vigour that is, where I do feel purposeful in going about my concerns — much the way I used to feel as half of a couple who shared a sense of purpose in all our little doings.

Because they are all little doings really, I know that now. They seem big and important while we are doing our lives, while we still think our lives and activities matter. And now, suddenly, I have recovered some of that sense, in self-forgetful moments. I am momentarily absorbed in, taken over by what I am doing, as if I had a life all before me still, with that consciousness of immortality and invincibility which everyone carries around. We know it's false with our rational minds but can't bring ourselves to really feel that. I lost that false consciousness a while. 

I haven't been afflicted by my lack of purpose or my understanding of the true tenuousness and unimportance of individual life. Despite underlying grief, I've enjoyed many moments of living, and have still preferred to find myself alive and well enough. But now ... I wonder how it will go now? Shall I gradually become unconscious again, immersed in my activities? Will I be as robustly single as I was when half a couple? Intriguing thought! 

I have been living these last many months, it seems, in underlying awareness of the Illusion. I imagine one does not lose that again, not entirely, even if it becomes in the course of time more thickly overlaid.