Do you want to be here, or do you want to disappear?
Presence and oblivion are two sides of the same coin
It was one of those nights. You know the ones: the nights when nothing goes according to plan but everything happens just as it was supposed to, nights that make you reciprocate smiles with strangers, nights when every spot in the crowd feels like the best seat in the house because you are exactly where you’re meant to be. On these nights, the synchronicities go crazy, and the universe moves mountains for you, and you don’t have to strain to hear your intuition’s voice because it’s louder than the bass vibrating the air particles around you. These are the nights you remember, the ones where you want to see and smell and touch everything around you, and feel everything within you. The nights when you know what it feels like to really be yourself.
In retrospect, such a night was inevitable. I was at a top-tier festival—it was day 2 of Lost Lands—and a few of my favorite artists were on the day’s agenda. And they delivered: INZO set the tone with his incredible “Overthinker” VIP, Subtronics carried us through the sunset with rumbling bass, and Zeds Dead closed out the mainstage with a masterclass in audio-visual storytelling. Plus, I had prepped for such a lineup with morning yoga and a well-timed long-acting ego relaxer. And yet, I was still surprised when I found myself inside of one of those nights, once all three sets were in the rearview mirror and nothing but unscheduled time stretched in front of me. Perhaps I was surprised because each of these nights feels like the best night of my life. Am I really so lucky to experience the best night of my life over and over again, each iteration perfectly aligned with what I need in that particular time and space?
If you’re an OG Dancers’ Dispatch reader, you may be feeling some deja vu. This is a night I’ve written about before and will write about at least one more time (we’ve got to get into that Zeds Dead set, after all!). But today, I want to tell you about those precious moments after Zeds Dead’s “Pure Imagination” faded to black but before my friend (and fearless editor) Eliza and I heroically carried our camp water jug uphill—both ways!—to deepen our understanding of suffering.
Zeds Dead’s set had floored and unmoored me, leaving me with a sense of urgency and desire to talk through what I had experienced during that set. So Eliza and I split off from the others and started heading toward the exits. But as we began to scale the hill running parallel to the mainstage, I felt a pull. It wasn’t time to go just yet. The main stage was quiet (no sets after midnight), and a few brave individuals scurried about the space picking up trash, filling bags to turn in for a prize. When we were contemplating where to go to talk, I noticed that the main stage’s LED screen had an enormous arrow pointing toward its right lower corner, directing the volunteers to bring their filled bags there. (On one of those nights, the signs are often comically obvious.) We moved toward the point of the arrow and settled on a few rocks on the edge of the dance floor, where a sea of music and movement had evaporated, leaving behind only echoes and tranquility.
We talked about Zeds Dead and artificial intelligence. We talked about the utopias and apocalypses that remain within the realm of possible futures for our planet and our species. We talked about the connection between intelligence and consciousness and the possibility that superintelligent beings could experience—and maybe understand—that indescribable feeling of awareness and presence and oneness that we call “the present moment.” And eventually, we popped out of the conversation and realized how deep we had gone. We then noticed two gentlemen sitting on a big rock about 15 yards away, and speculated, “What are those lads talking about?” But it was one of those nights, so the phrase “strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet” felt like a gem of truth rather than a cliche. We decided to go over and just ask them.
It turns out, they were talking about how in the United States, we use prisoners to pick up trash on the side of the highway. These gents were Europeans and were shocked by this dehumanizing practice. This spurred a broader conversation about the differences between American and European cultures, which naturally led to a conversation comparing rave cultures across the continents.
We had assumed that European rave culture was more centered around the music, but our new friends quickly disavowed us of this notion. They noted that drug use was very common, but we countered that drug use was a staple of the American scene as well. One of them was struggling to find the right words to explain the distinction, noting English was not his first language. With Eliza and my conversation about presence in mind, I had an idea.
I asked him, “do they want to be here, or do they want to disappear?” He paused for a moment and his eyes met mine, filled with recognition. He answered with a small smile, “they want to disappear.”
There are two ways to get lost…
🌑 Losing yourself to oblivion
🌀 Losing yourself to the moment
The first is encapsulated by the experience of blacking out from alcohol, when you are technically awake and conscious but remember nothing. While in this state, your frontal lobe function is impaired, which can lead to impulsivity and poor decision-making, but your brain’s default mode network is also interrupted, which can generate a sense of unencumbered freedom from self-judgement. Upon emergence from a blackout, you may remember only fits and starts from the night or nothing at all. And yet, there is that desirable feeling of freedom, of taking a break from oneself, that can motivate you to go back for more, even if that means sacrificing more time to the void.
The second is captured by the “no thoughts, just vibes” meme, when you feel everything, your mind quiets, and you have the sense that every aspect of your experience is just as it should be. You are awake and conscious, and this is okay with you. You may also get a break from self-judgement in this state, and your inhibitions may loosen their grip on you, but this tends to manifest more positively. You may express your emotions more freely and dance without a care of who’s watching.
You’ll notice that these states are quite similar: during both, a person is awake, conscious, and experiencing an altered state of connection to their sense of self. During both, a person can take a break from the oppressive self-referential thinking that can lead to anxiety and depression.
It seems to me that there are two differences (and I’d like to hear from you in the comments if you have any additional thoughts):
🧠 Memory: When we lose ourselves to oblivion, we do not remember the experience and cannot integrate it into the conscious mind. When we lose ourselves to the moment, we can recall the experience and tap into how it felt, strengthening those connections in the brain.
😶🌫️ Intention: We seek oblivion when we’re running from something. We want to escape our own mind, to get away from our thoughts, physical sensations, and emotions. We seek the present moment by allowing everything to be as it is. We let those thoughts, sensations, and emotions enter our conscious awareness and watch them as they change.
Raves offer the opportunity for either type of getting lost. At any given show or music festival or event, there are a number of people running from their thoughts, emotions, and senses. They seek to throw themselves into the void and take a break from reality. Even so, there are a number of people whose spirit has awoken, who approach life with a sense of equanimity, who are able to flow with their thoughts, emotions, and senses.
I spent a few years trying to lose myself to oblivion, seeking to experience nothing in the hopes that it would bring me peace. But it didn’t. I would awake in the same place I began—or worse. All the thoughts, feelings, and sensations I had run from were still there; all I had done was take a short break from them.
As my life’s journey continued, I began to experiment with that second loss of self, accidentally at first and then intentionally. I started to have experiences that I wanted to remember, emotions and sensations that I wanted to feel. I wanted to be so close to those experiences, to zoom in and let them fill every cell of my body. So I opened myself to them, unfolding slowly to feel more and more. Then came the realization: the sense of presence I experienced at the rave was the same sensation I experienced in meditation. Both ecstatic stimulation and peaceful embodiment brought me to the same place, the place where reality and beauty and truth quietly reside, waiting to be discovered.
Chasing oblivion is escapism, but you will never be able to escape yourself. Every attempt to disappear leads you to where you began: in your body, with those same thoughts and emotions and sensations you tried so hard to destroy. Chasing presence is transcendence; once you’ve felt what it’s like to really be here, your reality will never be the same.
Once you’ve had one of those nights, I know you’ll want to have another one.
Mia Arends loves writing and dancing—and thinks both are cosmically important. Follow her on Instagram, Threads, or Reddit.
This voiceover features…
Loved it! Very well written 👏