"The Existential Nothing," has a nut-eating, lackadaisical and gown-wearing aspect, which might be deemed a denigration of those possessed by high purpose and higher chins. And I have found that these ideas can especially upset the full-blooded when "nothingness" is defined as the here and now, rather than somewhere else.
Possibly the reason for this is because consciousness has through our more recent generations become the purview of that part of the medical profession wedded to understanding mind and its waves. Nor is the empirical conclusion ever singular in the sense that "I am here." But they have the secret language and cathedral, which includes a belief in possibilities that are not entirely selfish. They plod around, do odd things to creatures that might also have something like a brain, but do not count as wise.
In past time, the mind was the preoccupation of what I guess might be called religious professionals. An often flamboyant menagerie which I am persuaded have always been possessed of an essentially more populist conclusion to the experience of experience, because they regard it as existent rather than as anomaly which might one day be untangled. As well, they have the big hats and the flowing robes, the serried ranks marching in goose-step, and theirs is the singing that moves earth.
So, for purely political reasons, I have decided upon a re-baptism. "The Existential Nothing" will be born again as the less subversive "Neutral Zone." Together we'll re-emerge from the river, stare at the slope, and odds are Sin and Mathematics will still be peddling cures that I'll still call oblivion.