The Glass Elevator: Levels of Reality
Tree of Sanity | Conscious Innervation, Part 2.
What you see is not all there is.
What you believe you perceive.
It all depends on where you are.
Reality isn’t one fixed thing. It’s a view. A lens. A floor in a building with many windows.
Imagine your consciousness as a glass elevator, rising and falling through different levels of perception. From survival to surrender. From panic to peace. From the visible to the invisible.
Each floor changes your understanding of what’s real. This is the elevator of consciousness. *
The Ground Floor — Objective Reality
Here, life is loud. Solid. Sharp-edged. Unforgiving. The world is as it appears — facts, events, and circumstances seem to cause your experience.
You feel like a camera recording the world. If something’s wrong, the world must change, not you.
This is the realm of reaction—a place of control and survival. You are a victim in a world of pressure and unpredictability.
This is where most stress resides.
The Lower Floors — Subjective Reality
You begin to see that things can be interpreted and that not everything is what it seems. Thought becomes a filter. You start framing situations, rethinking problems, and softening edges.
You still believe in outside causes, but now you believe in choice, too. You are an adopter — learning to work with your thoughts, even if you blame the world for triggering them.
This is where therapy happens, personal growth begins, and paradox becomes possible.
The Upper Floors — Constructive Reality
Here, the shift is radical. You realize that you don’t experience life directly but through the thoughts about life.
The mind is no longer a camera — it’s a paintbrush. Reality becomes something you create, not something you consume.
You see patterns. Possibilities. You step into authorship.
You are a creator in a world of infinite options. Your emotions are messages. Your mind is a studio. Your life, a living canvas.
The Top Floor — Illusory Reality
Now the walls dissolve. There is no longer “out there” and “in here.”
You see through the illusion of separation. You don’t just paint reality — you dissolve the need for it to be painted. You become still. Soft. Spacious.
You play with form, not to build identity, but to explore impermanence. You let go of wanting to control and fall into a more profound knowing.
You are an integrator. A presence in a world of illusions. A whisper in the kaleidoscope of thought.
Going Up—Going Down
You don’t stay on one floor forever. The elevator moves — sometimes slowly, sometimes suddenly.
- A crisis can send you down.
- A moment of awe can lift you.
- A deep breath can change your level.
The higher you go, the more peace, clarity, and possibility you see. The lower you go, the louder the world feels, and the smaller your choices seem.
The key is presence. Notice where you are and know that you can choose to rise to higher levels of reality.
Practice: Riding the Elevator
Try this reflection:
Imagine you are close to losing your job. How does that situation look from each floor?
- Ground floor: “This is a disaster. My life is falling apart.”
- Lower floors: “Maybe this is a chance to rethink my path.”
- Upper floors: “I’ve created this chapter. I can create the next.”
- Top floor: “All things rise and fall. I remain whole.”
Write your elevator script. See how your experience transforms with each shift in perspective.
The Art of Ascending
Rising is simple — but not always easy.
- You don’t force it.
- You remember it.
- You don’t climb — you unhook.
Unhook from urgency. From overthinking. From the need to fix what was never broken.
The elevator is already there. You need to press the button.
Pause. Breathe. Look up.
You are not stuck in a level of life; you are simply viewing it from a floor that no longer fits. When you do, the view will change.
Thank you for being here. Tree of Sanity is a shared space for staying open, reflective, and human in a fast-moving world. You’re warmly invited to subscribe — and if you feel called to write, your voice is welcome here too.
The Glass Elevator by Michael O’Neill, inspired by Sidney Banks.
