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The Divine Reality: Transcendent and Immanent
by Dick Richardson[Note: This is excerpted from an unpublished book manuscript by the author. Publishers take note: this book deserves a publisher, as does a companion volume of Richardson’s poetry. This piece was originally published in Exceptional Human Experience, 13 (2), 10-27.]
It was approximately 6.45 p.m. when a friend called me on the telephone to inquire if I would like to go over to his place for a few games of chess. I explained to him that I was baby sitting as my wife had just gone out for the evening with friends and would not be back until quite late. I was just on the verge of inviting him over to my place when, without thinking, I said that I would give it a miss tonight and simply have a bath and an early night. I did not know why I had said that, for I do not usually talk without thinking what I am going to say. Also, I did quite fancy the idea of a few games of chess and rarely ever turned down the opportunity. Nevertheless, having said it, I let it ride.
The two youngsters were tucked up for the night and the paraphernalia of childhood joy was tidied up as I sat down at about 7 p.m. I had just placed a couple of large logs on the fire and put a record on the machine at random with the intent of a few minutes of peace and quiet before going up for a bath.
If I had known in advance what was going to transpire over the course of the next three hours I would have employed a baby sitter and a witness to my own physical condition for the duration of that period of time.
Thus it was that at approximately 7 p.m. on a late winter/ early spring evening I, a mere ignoramus of twenty-four years of age, sat down for a few minutes to read the paper and listen to a record prior to having a bath and an early night.
Just as I sat down in the chair in front of the fire our old cat jumped up on my lap. It took me by surprise for I had not seen it coming, and thus the thought of leaning over for the newspaper went right out of my mind. I made a fuss of the cat as it rolled over into the well of my lap with its legs pointing skyward. As I stroked its belly it gave out a purr that was almost as loud as a car engine revving and fit to rock the chair we were sitting in. I smiled and wondered how they did it, and why. I continued to make a fuss of the cat without any further thought of reading the paper. In so doing I suddenly became aware of the record I had put on simply for background music.
It turned out to be the last part of the Enigma Variations which was to be followed later by the Fantasia on a Theme of Thomas Tallis by Vaughan Williams (how ironic are those two titles; fantasia and enigma indeed). At that time neither of those pieces were favorites of mine; it just happened to be the record I pulled out.
The music began to sound like nothing I had ever heard before or since. It was as though the music were trying to make me aware of IT. It permeated my consciousness in ways that words cannot describe. I had a fleeting thought, one of those unsolicited "pop in" thoughts, which said, "sod the paper, listen to the music old son"; and I thought, "Yeah... this is good"!
In today’s language I suppose we would say that the music was reaching parts that no other largo could get to. I had always loved music, music of all kinds, for it all had its time, place, and mood; but this was more than mere music, more than mere sound. I relaxed back into the rocking chair with the cat still purring away like a traction engine on my lap, although the sound was becoming drowned into the distance by the beauty of the music, when suddenly, something very strange occurred; and the beginning of I knew not what.
Instead of relaxing, it was as though my concentration was becoming focused, so sharp; like a narrow beam of pointed conscious awareness focusing and concentrating like I had never done before, even in the midst of chess problems during a good game, and that alone is concentration enough, but this was more so. The music had reached a degree of profound beauty I had never known or thought could have existed. In so attaining I somehow relaxed into it, a kind of kind of letting go of objective observation. I gave a kind of unusual sigh and an outward exhalation of breath like a long AHHHH; and just as I did so—everything vanished, instantaneously, just like creation being switched off by the throw of a switch.
There was no room, no cat, no sound of the fire burning or the clock ticking; no cat purring, no chair, no body, no weight, no mass, no heat or cold, no gravity, no up or down or this way or that way; there was just total blackness and the sound of the music, which was passing through my consciousness in waves. This is not a poetic description of my listening to the music; it is literal.
At the very instant of "going" it was as though my ears had been turned inside out; for at one instant the music was objective, on the outside, and the next instant it was taking place "all around," for there was no inside or outside as such. Nevertheless, it was as though the music was passing through the point (which I was) like waves on a pond, and each wave was of greater emotional charge than the one before it. It was as though each wave was preparing me for the next wave, and building up into... into I did not know what. In some respects it was like being kidnapped by divine music, perfection; the only thing that existed in creation was myself and the music. It was as though the "AHHH" was still going on but in the vastness of the space of the mind alone. It became a reality in which there was no dualistic reference between myself and music, but as though there was only "I am the music" in a dance, a swoon, of excitement, awe, and wonder.
After an immeasurable duration of time that piece of music ended, and there was a stillness and quiet that cannot be described. I did not question (at that point) that I had no body or existence other than awareness of being. Neither would I have had the time to think of such things, for the next piece of music began.
To say that the next piece of music began is the understatement of all time. It did not begin, it flowed. It flowed out of nothingness, like... like I know not what. Within a few seconds of the music emanating into my consciousness there came the most frightening experience I have ever known in my life, before or since. The passion and beauty of the sounds were such that my mind went... bang! I blew up, fell apart, exploded, or so it seemed. As I did so I could see, I had vision, I was no longer in total blackness listening to the music for I could see myself exploding and expanding. It seemed to be like the big bang itself.
I could still hear the music, and it was just as well that I could for my mind clung to the sound to try and quell the fear and panic which was taking place. I could see what can only be described as streaked out dots of light which I was expanding into and flying through like a supernova. It was like I did not even have time to be frightened, even though I was. I was somehow trying to turn the eyes which I had away from the rushing lights and the vision of this expansion and concentrate upon the music. But those eyes (heaven only knows with what one could see—but see one could) were eyes that we cannot open or close by our own volition; one could not switch the vision or the experience off.
Just as I thought I was going to expand into infinity and fade away into nothingness the expansion stopped. My mind gradually stopped expanding and I metaphorically gave a sigh of relief; but there was no breath or lungs with which to do it.
At that point, it was as if I were in a kind of unbounded dome of blackness, and I consisted of nothing except a point of consciousness with no boundary or duration, no form; just consciousness. I could see what appeared to be tiny points of light coming into and out of existence all over the space within which I existed. It was much like the vision one would get with one’s eyes nearly closed while seeing sunlight spots dancing on the surface of a fast-flowing river. It was like creation "stuff" coming and going all the time. Throughout all this I could still hear the music. Then came the next shock to my system, if a system I had.
The dots of light that seemed to be coming into and out of existence as far as one could see suddenly turned into the music which I could hear, and I could not only hear the music but now also see it. There are no words to describe such music made of light. It is a vision unlike other vision. It cannot be recreated by imagination within the mind from hindsight; it can only be seen and known at the time of the event. I saw the music flowing toward me. It was in colors that we know and some that we do not know. The essential quality of the light was equal to that of the sound of the music. The light itself and the colors were not different things as we tend to know colored light by reflections or as sources of light emanating from a certain point. The music was the light, the color was the light. It did not flow from anything except uncreated into created. The fear that I had experienced throughout the expansion or whatever it was had now gone and there was nothing but I and the music, which I was now within: I became the music; there was not an "I" and an "it."
As this event continued I became aware that I "knew" the music. That is to say, I knew it backwards, forwards, inside out, one note at a time or all at once; and I could see it any way I wanted to see it. I could become the melody, which I did; I could become the harmony, which I did. I could be one note or the whole piece of the music. Reality is stranger than fiction; and a damn sight better.
Whilst this divine dance of music in unison was going on I became aware that I was of two natures somehow enshrined in one. There came a point whilst I was swimming in this light and music when I became aware that I was looking at myself objectively, and it did not seem strange at the time.
"Myself" did not consist of a body but only of light, but I knew it was me, and I thought, "The little one is having the time of his life" (which indeed he was), but the other me, or the me of the personality, did not know this was going on; only the other bit knew that. Likewise, all these things were not being thought about as we do out here in the world of temporal forms, but somehow they were just known, and seen, and felt, and enjoyed.
I became aware at that point that there were two aspects of myself: one which I refer to as the person and one which I refer to as the personality. The latter is an extension and emanation of the former and thus a perceived duality, albeit a oneness in the structure of an interdimensional vortex of self-existence. I cannot refer to two "I’s," thus I will use the terms person and personality for simplicity. It is not so much a case of two aspects of consciousness but more the case of what part of the vortex of emanation the consciousness is existing within at that instant. One cannot observe from both points of reference at the same instant, however; it is either one or the other. And it even gets far more complex. But let us proceed in the order of the unfolding events.
At this point, and even though one was aware of what was going on at the time, one was not "bothered about it" so to speak, for I was only really concerned about the love of the reality itself, the music, the sound, the vision, the event itself, for it was indeed a divine dance of the spheres. It was passion and reality unimaginable; it was creation par excellence, by magic.
The shift from one point of consciousness to the other is not an act of wilful intent on my (the personality’s) part; it simply occurred as far as I was aware. How long this music and light experience lasted is impossible to say, for although it was a temporal process it was a kind of temporality other than is known in "normal" or everyday awareness in temporal forms. Likewise, the visions and objects of vision were not thought of as extant things existing in their own right, such as a tree or a mountain, for it was known and understood to be being created at the time and only for its duration and effect.
There came a point, however, when things changed. I suddenly had an entirely different vision. It was just at the point when I knew the music was going away, ending. My perspective of vision was such that I could see a being, a young boy of about twelve years of age, if appearances were anything to go by. He was illuminated in a brilliance of light and color, as the music had been, and existed in otherwise total darkness, but that darkness up around him was lighted like an aura.
He was sitting on his bum (with nothing underneath him) with one arm wrapped around his knees, which were folded up to his chin, and waving goodbye to the music with the other hand. It was not a vision of any boy or person I had ever seen or known, but I knew that I had to take the vision as myself, yet not the self of the personality which I knew to be me. Indeed, it was the old me who was doing the observing and learning.
Such archetypal visions are a kind of learning without any words. They are not reasoned or rationalized, and yet they are understood implicitly and without thinking about them. The experience is the thing itself and the knowledge and understanding is implicit and axiomatic. Thus, it is a dialogue without dialogue, and synetic in its nature.
I could see the boy waving goodbye to the music, and I could see the music fading away into a distance and into nothingness, being uncreated just as easily as it had been created. I also implicitly knew what was going on inside him and how he felt. He did not want anything; he did not fear the music leaving him, for he loved it—and that was sufficient. I cannot find the words to describe the passion and feelings that child knew and felt; but he was perfect; and an act which I knew that I could not follow.
As the music went further away the sound of it also diminished. It eventually faded away into nothingness, and the boy was alone in his own radiance in otherwise total blackness and nothingness. Then the vision disappeared, and there was nothing. I was alone with my boring old self, and once again able to think and rationalize in the usual manner and seemingly in the usual time span of thinking. Yet I was alone in a darkness in which I had no form other than conscious awareness.
I realized that any perception or illusion of "otherness," or another part of myself, was gone and I was alone with my normal personality of the outside world. Yet the world was gone; everything was gone except my self-consciousness and its memories. What on earth (or elsewhere), is going on; and why? From hindsight one would assume that in such a situation one would be terrified, for it was like being buried alive (a good analogy). However, the thought of the music which had preceded this situation must have taken the fear away, even though I felt a feeling of great apprehension and a degree of worry. Is one going to be stranded here for all time maybe? Is this death? Or am I still sitting in the chair with my mind having slipped out of joint somehow?
Have I gone insane? The thoughts that pass through one’s mind are at times uncontrollable, and in this situation one does not know what to think. Surely if I just sit quiet (as if I could do anything other) and hang about something will happen; something must happen; I can’t just hang about here forever; wherever "here" is. Perhaps someone will come into the room soon and realize that my mind has got stuck inside and cart me off to a place to get it out again.
It was however, the first chance I had to think about what the hell was going on; one minute I am sitting in the chair minding my own business and the next minute... zap, and the world has disappeared, or I from it—which is it? I knew for sure that I wanted out from whatever I was in but there was nothing I could do about it at all; for I had no control of anything.
Just at that point, however, and before I had the chance to get really fed up, something did happen. I was just thinking how nice it would be to go into the kitchen and get a beer or a cup of coffee when something came. I could not see what it was for it was still total darkness, but I could somehow feel the presence of something I knew not what... Then I heard a voice!
To say that one heard a voice is not true in the sense that one normally hears a voice in objective terms across a distance, but it was indeed very much like it and also sounded within my mind or consciousness somehow. It was as though the point of origin was somehow objective, yet from a location from deeper down within myself somehow: thus, objective "inwards," not "outwards," from "below" as opposed to "around" me. Something said, or gave me the understanding by way of perceiving a voice, "Do you want to go on?"
I cannot describe how I felt about that. Nothing would actually shock me (I think) after what had transpired since the world had disappeared. Yet this "request" was experienced as totally objective; it was not me that was asking the question; it was something else.
I was too stunned to even think about the meaning of the question yet alone where it came from; for something, even an odd sounding voice, was better than nothing at all, if indeed it was a voice. Without thinking I inwardly yelled out (for the lack of putting it into other words, and more in panic); "Go on what"?
"Go on further," came the reply or understanding. I was amazed at the logic and reasoning, but I wanted nothing else other than normality to be re-established. I was just about to reply (for if you can’t beat it join it), "No thanks; I have had a wonderful time, thank you very much, but I think it’s about time that I was getting back to normality right now, if it’s all the same to you"! (You might as well go out laughing, I thought).
As I was about to respond, however, I was suddenly washed, bathed, drowned in a passion, a love, a swoon of ecstasy; to which I responded in a way which was a kind of choice which was no choice—an offer one cannot refuse. (And not the kind of bath I had intended.) I replied to whatever, or wherever, the question emanated from... "OK, let’s do it, let’s go on further"! I did not even know what the question meant let alone from whence it came.
The next thing I was aware of was that the profound overwhelming emotion had gone and I was then alone again—but something was different—stone me, my mind is BENT... out of shape, distorting!
I was now experiencing not "nothing" but decidedly being inside of something—inside my own mind, which was being squeezed out of shape. Why is my mind not round? (The things one thinks at such a time.) It was as if I could see the edges of my own mind in a fuzzy darkness, with my consciousness being like a point at its center.
Also, my mind was being squeezed out of shape, or so it seemed. It was narrower at one point than at the other; a bit like a pear. I underwent an experience of being squeezed, and I did not like it one bit. I became very anxious; or near on panic is more like it. I had a distinct urge to try to punch a hole in my collapsing mind in order to get out, escape, before being squashed along with it.
I yelled out: "Oy, there’s some sod out there pulling my mind around and I cannot stop it." I felt real panic coming on fast. The restricting became worse. "If you don’t pack it in I am going to be squashed inside it... sod off"! I was about to hurl other choice obscenities when all of a sudden I heard the voice again....
"Relax, take it smoothly"!
I was just about to reply "bugger off" when I suddenly started moving. "Relax, he says... stone me... I’m moving... the whole bloody shebang is sliding away and with me inside it"! "Good grief almighty what the hell is happening"!?
"Relax, everything is as it should be, keep calm and relax"! "Relax, he says, who’s driving this thing anyway... how do I know its passed its bloody driving test? And where is it going anyway... go on tell me that"? "Keep quiet, shut up and relax"!
With that command, or suggestion, I was stunned to the core;... "Oh yes, relax... OK, I’ll relax"! Bloody liar I thought to myself, who the hell could relax in a situation like this... this is too ridiculous for words or thought... let alone happening! The moving began to judder; we were up against something of a resistance (me I guess)... "Relax"! "I am relaxing"! (Why can’t I be unconscious or dead or something)! I tried hard to think on good things as one does in the dentist’s chair while under diabolical pain; although there was no pain here, only fear.
"Make out nothing’s happening," I thought to myself. The juddering felt like whatever was clogging the works was fighting a losing battle in some inevitable way. There was a huge tug—then a release. I zoomed off like a bullet from a gun; into, or out of, what I knew not.
I did not know it at that time, of course, but the events thus far were but the beginning of the act of transcendence, the stripping away (purgation) of the outer world. There then followed the next stage of purgation—the isolation, Limbo. In the dimension of assessment and the discrimination of the parts there will be two in that field; one will be taken and one will remain. But I knew nothing of these things at that young age—so let us continue with the unfolding events themselves as they were known and thought about at that time.
Isolation in Limbo
It was as though I had been ejected from a container of some kind and at high velocity: but I was now in a form of unseen space, a space which was so dark that it was almost a void of creation, but I was aware of a space of some kind in which I existed, and it was all about me.
There was a long stunned silence of thought in an instantaneous recognition of the obvious. "Bugger me, why did I not realize it ages ago—I am dead—you’re kicking the bucket old son"! Not expecting any answer I shouted out—"I am dead ain’t I"!
A "voice" or communication answered, much to my amazement. "Well, if you were dead then you would not know it would you; just think lad, how could you think that you were dead if you were dead"?
This was in some ways the most relaxing comment that had come to me since the music episode had ended, and thus in some way it relieved the panic that otherwise would have ensued.
I inwardly answered, "That is indeed hard to argue with, but from what I have seen thus far nothing would surprise me"! There was no answer to that, but I distinctly felt the knowledge of something smiling.
The sensation was now of existing in a literal space of some kind and yet very different to the confines of what I had taken to be my own collapsing mind and the things which had transpired within it: for now my mind was definitely perceived to be in a space, and free.
I suddenly felt totally alone again, or so it was experienced to be. For whatever it was, the other degree of myself or otherness which seemed to have asked the questions was now gone again. I was alone.
I guess I must have been fooling myself, for it is obvious that I am dead, or at least on the way to it, for what the hell would I be doing here otherwise? For a moment I wondered whether I was dreaming; perhaps I fell asleep in the chair and this is all a dream and I will wake up in a few moments. But I knew that it was no dream for it was as real as life, too real, albeit so different.
I could still see; for that I knew, but there was nothing to see; there was no creation other than myself, my mind in nothing, Limbo. It was indeed in a state of isolation, of existing in nothing created. It was not as though one were simply in a dark place as such, for it was experienced that there was no "place" to be dark.
It was like being stranded, left alone in nothing; separated or beyond any form of creation; abandoned. It was as if all creation had been switched off and had forgotten to take me with it. There was not even a finger to wobble or anything to smell or touch. I thought how much I would have loved to have seen a raindrop or felt the wind in my face. And how I perhaps took such things for granted.
"Well, just when you’re enjoying yourself, eh," I thought. One could think of this in terms of either a Limbo experience or "Mind Alone," for the effect and the experience are the same thing. Naturally I began to feel apprehensive, for one could not do anything. One could not shake oneself out of it, for there was nothing to shake. I began pondering on life, for I had accepted that this was the end of it, or the journey to the end of it. Strangely enough I did not seem as bothered about it as I thought I should have been, and even though I had been cut short in my prime, and at a time when I was enjoying life to the full.
Well, I guess I am going to fade out any minute now and there is not much I can do about that now, so why worry about it! But if ever anybody or anything asks me if I want to "go on" again then I shall certainly ascertain what they mean before committing myself.
After awhile something switched on what I instantly thought was a star, a tiny little pinprick of light way off in the distance. I suddenly wondered why I thought that this star was objective to me, for nothing else I had seen could really have been said to be "objective" in the literal sense; but this star felt to be absolutely objective. I was over here and that thing was over there, and thus real in objective terms.
I then questioned where all the other stars had gone, but realized, or perhaps better to say, suddenly remembered, that this was not "outer space," but an unknown inner or sub-space somewhere; and heaven only knows where. But if this was supposed to be heaven or afterlife then it was no great shakes; and give me Exmoor any day.
Well, star or not it is damned obvious that I am not going to find my own way home from this place. And even if one knew the way back how the hell would one move in that direction? I give up!
I began to wonder if my existence was now solely due to my thinking process perhaps. That is to say, I had no body or substance observable. Therefore, perhaps if I stop thinking I would cease to exist.
"That’s novel," I thought, "a bit like Hobson’s choice. By the same token, however, if I were to keep thinking then perhaps I could hang about here forever. But my thoughts do not thrill me to that extent so I did not fancy that idea. So perhaps if I stop thinking then I will cease to exist."
So I stopped thinking. Nothing happened. I was still there; in nothing and nowhere. Well, that’s it then, so much for that experiment!
It occurred to me that perhaps the Christians might be right after all and that this distant light was perhaps Dante’s Inferno; Wow! Happy days! I didn’t think that I had been that bad, however, and not that I believed such stuff anyway; but there you go, eh!
Movement seemed to slowly begin. Either toward the tiny little light or else it was itself moving toward me; but no, I felt actual movement somehow. Although I was not really thinking about it I somehow began to question, or at least began to think, about my past life. If this light which is coming toward me (or me it) is death, then I really do have little time to think about life. What about it? Well, it was OK I guess, I seemed to enjoy most of it despite the pains and the poverty, the war and frustration. What did I amount to? Sod all really! Was it fun?
Fun!? I did not know it was meant to be fun; did I ask myself that question? What the devil is going on! Was it fun? Well, some of it was, but not all of it, I thought to myself. Would you do it again? Not the same one over again I don’t think, a different one maybe. Different in what way? Well, a little less frustration and pain, a little more passion and shared enjoyment. A more meaningful existence somehow maybe. What is enjoyment? Well, you know, enjoyment! No, you tell me what enjoyment is.
Well, enjoyment is to love what you are doing, to do what you love doing, and to share that thing and that love with another person, I guess. It is also the joy of taking part, the act of being a part of instigating and spreading that enjoyment of being; a harmony of body and mind in the excitement of experience with others, and also at times on one’s own with nature. That, I guess, is what enjoyment is for me anyway.
At that point, I felt that I would love to see a tree or a green field; a blade of grass or a drop of rain; or at least to feel a breeze of fresh air. For they were all now lost and gone. It occurred to me that I had not done any breathing for a long time; and nothing to breathe with.
Would I want to go on living now given the choice? Now that I have come this far I am not sure. It would have to have some meaning to it, some purpose other than mere pleasurable moments and sad moments that amount to nothing really. It would have to have something which is seen, known, to have some meaning to the suffering and pain which is the greater portion of life on earth it would seem. It would have to be worth the effort of the struggle involved.
Would I really want to live again now? I am not sure now; but what I think does not really matter now anyway; so I do not want to think any more; sod the lot of it. However, life was certainly better than being here, and that’s for sure... and wherever "here" is—the dungeons of my mind it seems! But what now then? In life I had the option of committing suicide if I wanted or needed to; but I cannot even do that there-here. I wonder where those poor sods went anyway. Perhaps such an act is simply a short cut to where I am now, or where I am headed for... that light is getting bigger, quite close.... Good grief!
What the hell... are they doing here?! I suddenly became aware that I was drifting past other beings somehow; hundreds of the buggers. I could not see them as such but I somehow knew they were there, and I could indeed almost see them, a kind of misty outline of some kind. I could somehow feel their presence. I became aware that I was somehow passing people; or beings of some kind anyway. What the hell are they doing here in my mind, or my mind’s tomb or whatever or wherever?
It was as if I was drifting through their dimension and yet somehow I could feel their presence and somehow "know" them: an empathy of some kind. These people, whatever they were, were so good. I do not know how I knew that, but I just knew it, and I wanted to be with them above all else. If I were on a bus then I would jump off at this stop, but I can’t do sod all. I want to be with them!
I wanted to wave at them to attract their attention but I had nothing to wave; yet somehow I understood something; a bit like a conversation by telepathy, I thought. I could feel them and know them, and understand them somehow. Stone me!—they said I cannot be with them... not now! Why not; I want to be with them, they are far nicer than many of the people I came across in life. They are different somehow; strangely different.
Then, without more ado or a by your leave, I suddenly shot off like an intergalactic bullet at terrific velocity and away from their dimension of existence, or their imagined existence, or whatever. And the light which had been a mere pin prick of light, the little star, was now much closer and larger. That is no star, I thought; more like a hole with light shining through it, or somehow rather drifting out of it.
It was now almost upon me, or me upon it, whichever. I seemed to be in some kind of free fall, a descent or diminishing orbit about it; spiralling toward it.
It was almost as though I could feel my own movement now and almost a sense of rushing air passing me. Hey, this is quite fun, a good feeling. But I do not think it is going to last long somehow!
I was no longer questioning whether this light was real but rather what it indeed was, for I was heading for it and fast. It is not a star, it looks more like a hole with light coming out of it from behind. Well, it would seem that it is perhaps the death star after all; happy days! Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of Richard... some hope!
Well, what is going to be is now going to be, so sod the lot of it: for there is nothing I can do about it now. But I could go out singing I guess—more dignified than whining. What shall I sing then; it will have to be a short song: Ariva Derchi Roma? Old Langsyne? No, I think I fancy a bit of Bach.... that is certainly a hole... it IS a hole... with light shining through it somehow; what a beautiful light it is to be sure... radiant.... strange... this is IT, I am going into it.... stone the bloody Crows I am falling into it.... Wow!
Beyond the White: Circumincession of the Trinity of Being
What happened next is impossible... I think! How do we describe the impossible? An event occurred; one event, but it was experienced twice, and from two different perspectives or points of reference, and thus appeared as two events from hindsight. Yet they could not be remembered during the sequence. They could not be remembered for an infinite duration of time; not until this whole series of events was over and behind me.
This event was in a dimension of a trinity of some kind; a trimorphic reality of self in some way. However, observation is always dualistic, the observer and the observed, it seems; but it can take place from three different points of reference in sequence. Is it any wonder that we question our sanity for awhile?
I will have to describe the following sequence of events just as though it was experienced at the time and in the sequence in which the events took place. However, at the time, the first sequence could not be remembered during the course of the second sequence and thus it was experienced (at the time) as if I only went into the white light once. But from hindsight it was experienced as going into it twice—even though knowing it was only once. The alternative is that two parts of me went through two different holes at the same time. Confusing is not the word! Who would ask for any of this?
I did not experience actually entering the white light. One instant I was about to enter it and the next instant I was inside or beyond it. If it were possible to have blinked one’s eyes then I would have assumed that I had blinked and hence missed it. But I know well enough that you cannot open or close those eyes. Moreover, I had no knowledge of ever entering the white light; there was nothing before this event for that part of me in this field.
I saw the figure of a Human form. It was tall, elegant, old; and standing on top of high precipice, like a cliff edge. I (this part of me) was in a location just to its left and a little way behind it. But I had no form as did it. I could see the left-hand side of its face and form and way off into a strange kind of distance to the front and all around it.
I must have had two eyes for the reality was three dimensional. The space all around was like an eerie white mist and yet somehow without being misty, for vision was crystal clear. I could see over the edge of the precipice where this figure was standing right near the edge of a high drop. However, I myself, the observer, had no form, and this figure, or symbolic emanation of a figure, seemed as though it were not aware of me watching it, whatever it was.
Moreover, I had no remembrance of ever arriving here or of anything that had happened before. I did not have a clue what I was, or what I was looking at, or what either of us were doing here: wherever "here" was. But it was calm, serene, peaceful, poignant, somehow meaningful, but eerie nevertheless; strange; mysterious. I had no thoughts going through me, no feeling, no questioning; no power to think or reason (as one can from hindsight, obviously), but just simply watching and taking it in: and not by choice.
I, or this part of me, was just an observer (as far as I know anyway). If one was being precise then that part of myself could be said, from hindsight, to have been like a spare member at a wedding or union (Mutual Convergence). And in the true and deepest sense of that meaning: a mere observer—in order to know!
The figure was looking down in toward the whiteness, which was a kind of enclosed but huge dome of whiteness. There was only the restriction of whiteness, which created the perception of an enclosure or dome of some kind. But whilst I was observing all this a small dark aperture in an otherwise total whiteness just opened up, like the lens of a camera shutter (the round type).
The whiteness was not a blinding whiteness but simply an absolute pure and soft radiant whiteness: but kind of misty. And yet the aperture which opened up like a hole in a wall was absolutely round in form and clear-cut defined. But it was tiny; a small hole. A small dark opening in a "non-wall" of the mysterious white light; and me with no form, and this form of a figure about three feet in front of me and to my right, just standing there watching this hole appear. Then, all of a sudden, a small ball of gold glowing light popped in through the hole; and as it did so the aperture closed up like magic behind it... like a self-closing door.
As the being looked down (it sounds like a fairy story but it is the literal truth of the events so help me the god of truth), this small gold ball of light came through the dark aperture into the white light, and there it just kind of hovered, remained stationary, with this figure watching it and me watching all of it. As I said, as the small gold glowing object entered into the white dome then the aperture through which it had come, the small black hole in the white, simply closed up and became nonexistent behind it; and the light (gold ball) just sat there stationary; a gold ball of light surrounded by a pure white light. And all was still... for ages it seemed.
It was eerie, so quiet, yet so profound. There was not a sound or any further movement. All was utter stillness and quiet. Somehow it seemed as if the figure may have been an extension of myself with me having some kind of out-of-body experience in some strange way; for I knew what was going on in its thinking; I think. Yet I was observing from a slight distance away... and objective.
The small glowing object looked much like a ping-pong ball, and its radiance was a gold glow which stood out in contrast to the surrounding pure and soft white light. As I watched I saw the figure shed one tear; one solitary tear ran down its left cheek; yet it was happy; so happy. I know not how I knew it, but know it I did. The figure was in love with the glowing object. Had I been in a position to think, ask questions, or rationalize during that facet of the events, then I do not know what I would have thought or reasoned, or understood; but I could not. From hindsight it is very strange being a passive observer. From hindsight, however, there are no questions to ask regarding that event as far as I am concerned; for all was understood—it explains itself.
Nothing was said; there was not a sound; everything was as stationary as the grave with the exception of that teardrop slowly rolling down a face. No further movement took place. It was profound beyond words.
I was not sure whether the figure I had been observing was another part of me or not; indeed, at this point I was not sure of anything, for I could not think; I was simply an observer. The vision then ended as instantly as it had come about, and from that point I had no further memory or recollection of it ever happening; or not for a long time yet to come. An infinite amount of time.
The Second, or Parallel Entry
As I said... this was no star, it is a hole with light shining out of it, and I am damn well falling in to it.... I am going into it.... Wow!
I did not actually experience going into the white light; I must have blinked or something. One instant I was about to enter it and the next instant I was inside of it.
I was inside some kind of bubble—a bit like a cobweb eggshell, or one of those string lamp shades that gather all the dust. I was aware of myself inside this thing; like an embryo in an egg of some kind; or shell. It was the first time that I could actually see anything of myself since all this began.
I was somehow sitting all cramped up like a bloody chicken in an egg; wondering what was on the outside that was so bright; and what the hell was going on now. But thinking did not come easy at that point, or perhaps it was simply more instinctive than rational thinking. But I could still think somehow. Beyond this "bubble" I was cooped up in was a pure radiance of brilliant and dazzling white light. A blinding light. I could not seem to think in the normal mode of thinking, although I could indeed still think somehow.
I had an instinctive urge of wanting to scratch my way out of this bubble or whatever it was, or at least to see what was outside of it. But there was no form to scratch at. I could not touch anything even though I seemed to have some kind of physical form of some kind. I think it simply must have been too bright and blinding to see properly. I suddenly realized that the light was getting brighter and even brighter by the second; blinding and more blinding all the time. Or perhaps more light was getting in through the mesh of this thing somehow. I began to see something—or it may be more true to say "know" something: but what is it... I’m not sure... No, no no it can’t be... it is... good grief almighty... the thing outside... it is... it is me!
(With that thought, that event, that vision and knowledge—I was dead; gone; finished.)
I saw no form of anything other than brilliant and blinding light, yet I knew that something outside was myself: it was obvious; axiomatic; absolute knowledge. My being, my consciousness, started spinning, swooning somehow, spinning in a giddiness like a vortex of water going down a bath plug hole: a vortex of self-existence diminishing into nothingness.
I knew that my bubble was disintegrating in the light... and so was I... I am going... I am being damn well annihilated, melted down, disintegrated, burnt out, annihilated. It came to pass that everything ended; everything had gone; and I was gone. I and the universe were no more. It was the end of time.
Paradise: The Virgin Womb of Eternity and Unification/Resurrection
For an unknown duration after my bubble or shell and I were annihilated there was nothing. One cannot talk about nothing, for nothing is the total lack of experience, oblivion; like being switched off, dead, gone, annihilated.
But after a nonduration of time there was a re-emergence or resurrection of my being, an annihilation of annihilation as such; but the like of which could never be dreamed or imagined. No physical eye has ever seen that place, no hand has touched it, no dreaming mind has thought of it, and its reality has never occurred to the rational mind, which exists in temporality—other than through the memory of the Paradise event itself.
Annihilation in that mutual convergence was something like passing through a magic gate: a gap in the universe: a hole in creation, a gate which separates time and temporal things from the transcendent realm of a Divine Eternity, the repose of being.
Such death is not a death but rather the ultimate in living, the ultimate in knowing, and the ultimate in comprehension and affirmation. Likewise is it the ultimate in love, passion, wisdom, and understanding.
From hindsight one would initially ask the question as to why the nature of things comes to contain such a rare and precious jewel in the crown of creation which would seem to be so jealously guarded, and beyond the moat of annihilation itself, that so few people ever come to be shown it during the course of their life on Earth. A justified question indeed. For everyone should know this yet while they live their lives on Earth; or so would be my own judgment and that of any other human being who had come to witness this wonder beyond all wonders.
Dialogue upon the transcendent and eternal realm is not going to be easy for the words we use apply to temporal things and not to the eternal perception of the divine transcendent realm of perfection in which there is knowledge only of the essences of things and not the things themselves.
Moreover, the vision of the place itself is not what paradise is all about, for it is about the feeling and the knowing and understanding, not the vision; and even though the vision itself is the vision to end all visions.
Among all other things one knows (and realizes from hindsight) is that we are a kind of jug, a vessel, a conduit, through which the life force itself flows. Without created consciousness to act as such vessels there could be no further creation, and no point or meaning to creation without us. We are the banks of the river of the flow of life; and this place is where the banks of the river of life meet the eternal riverbed.
However, it is not totally impossible to talk of such reality, only very difficult; but such experience itself solves many mysteries and so-called paradoxes. To say that self-consciousness, or I, is resurrected after annihilation is a most fitting description of the experience, and the best definition of the event.
One could also say the annihilation of annihilation; but one cannot say what is happening in absolute objective terms of reality; for you and I can never know that.
With regard to the "awakening" in that realm then, one cannot make an analogy of going to sleep and then waking up in another place, for that gives the impression of a continuity; which it is not. It is a broken continuity of self-being. Broken by the act of annihilation.
When we awake from sleep we are the same person that went to sleep; we vaguely remember going to sleep, we remember having been asleep, and when we awake we retain our past memories of having existed before that sleep: and thus a continuity of being even though we underwent an oblivion of consciousness during dreamless sleep.
Neither are we actually aware of the point of falling asleep, but we sure are aware of being annihilated; and how. And I often wondered why. But if we did not come to know then we would never know the connection point between time and the everlasting eternal moment of being.
Because that place, the transcendent realm, is judged by us (or me) to be perfection, for simplicity I refer to it as Paradise. There are no names, however. It would be misleading to refer to it as "eternity," for I always thought of eternity as the sum of all created time. Indeed, time as we know it does not even move there. Thus it is the beginning of time; hence the womb of eternity. Moreover, nothing at all of experienced consciousness has ever known that place and dimension by dwelling there. So it is pristine, fresh, childlike, virgin of any other experience or memory; and hence my justification for referring to it as the "Virgin Womb of Eternity." There are no men or women there and the word virgin has no connotations of that ilk.
However, let us proceed with the event and the understanding of the eternal wisdom itself. When we awake in paradise we do not awake in the sense of coming out of a sleep; it is nothing like that at all. There is no waking up or sleeping in that realm, for when you are resurrected into it you have always been there; there is no before. Temporality does not apply there. Hence, even if we went there a million times it would always be "once" from our perception of it anyway; and by virtue of annihilation itself.
Paradise is the beginning; and the end is a new beginning. So it is both the beginning and the end, and then the beginning again. It is like the knot that joins a round piece of string or loop; or the weld that holds the circle of being together. It is home! From whence we came. It is my home; everyone’s home. We are Twins, divine cosmic twins.
One does not wake up then or suddenly come into self-consciousness there for one has always been there and self-conscious within it. Naturally enough, you and I can come to question that truth as it is experienced by the I AM within that realm when we are in extension of it; and don’t I know it. But you cannot whilst in there; it is uncontradictable.
Thus, when self-consciousness is restored, shall we say, after annihilation, it is not the restoration of the personality that went in, thus it is not really a resurrection in that sense, for that part of ourselves which exists in that realm has always been there; and the part, the personality, that went into annihilation does not exist there; but it is still you; the real you; but the inner and depth eternal you that only this dimension can reveal; and hold. The part that is never let go of.
So much depends then on the reference point one is talking from when using the term "I" or "me." Hence we have to come to know our true self; that part which IS the real us, and of which everything else is ultimately objective—even the personality, time, and changing events.
In that realm there is no memory of ever having existed before or elsewhere. There is no before or elsewhere. Thus, we are not talking about the personality existing in paradise but that of the person. The personality is washed away in annihilation. But nevertheless that person in paradise is "me"... "I am me." It is still my consciousness (you in your case). But not the you of the temporal senses. The person and the personality are but two parts of our trinity; and the soul or overself is the third part—like three quarks in a proton or three peas in a pod.
One could therefore mistakenly talk about the "I am" which exists in the womb of eternal mind as being objective from the personality of the being in time and space; but to do so would be very wrong and also cause a paradox and an alienation of self from self, or the outer from the inner. Likewise, it is painfully obvious from hindsight that some, if not many (through second-hand dialogue and distortions no doubt) have thought this aspect of being to be the first cause; the unseen living mover of creation itself. But not so; for there is another, and even beyond that depth... beyond our self, and which is not us.
It must be remembered that the eternal paradise of the ground of our being is experienced to be the first created thing and place, but certainly not the creative source itself. Although it is known to be the first emanation of the creative source itself, the first act of creation. In the beginning man was indeed in the garden of eternal delight and perfection: paradise. But as I say, it would still require an "act" to bring forth paradise and the minds within it. Thus it is also known whilst in that place that there is a deeper but uncreated reality. But not a deeper reality that you or I can ever get to; and that is a known fact whilst there. The I am which exists in that reality is not the first cause, and that is axiomatic at the time. It is the first thing "caused."
However, it was not created in time; certainly not the kind of space-time that you and I know out here. It is deeper down within the inner structure of emanation than the point where space-time becomes a phenomenon of extended reality; just as a river is not the riverbed, but without a river-bed and the banks there could be no river. It is the ground of being; not the creative source of all being.
Let us continue, however, with the exegesis as it unfolded. I was resurrected from nonexistence, death, into a place of eternal perfection. In that place there is perfect vision (those who are blind will see). A vision which must be from two locations, I guess, because the vision, the place, is three dimensional: binocular vision. There exists width, breadth, and depth.
The place or realm, goes on as far as one can see, and into a distance beyond sight itself, for it is everywhere and everything. There is up, and there is down, there is left and there is right, all relative to the point of vision, needless to say.
The vision is of darkness and of infinite jewel-like glowing lights. The lights are like jewels, diamonds set in a sea of purple glowing darkness; which is not really dark at all, but somehow pulsating with vitality and being. The lights are small but more than mere points of light, and they are of various sizes and distances apart. Some are even kind of wispy and strung out; but most are roundish. Neither the darkness or the lights can be described in a way that does them justice, for the beauty transcends anything known or knowable. It is the original unadulterated essence and principle of beauty.
The lights in that realm are stationary, or so it seems to observation. Nothing moves; all is still and silent. The only thing that moves is I, or self-consciousness. I AM slowly drifts through that realm in a clockwise orbit; a slow orbit, but an orbit nevertheless. Initially it is like a slow drifting in a straight line. However, it is an orbit, a clockwise orbit, assuming the clock were lying face up on the floor.
The orbit is of great distance and almost perceived as a straight line, but it is known to be an orbit about an unseen center. The I that exists there (us) has no perceived substance or form, it is just pure virgin primordial consciousness as far as we are concerned; or a mysterious substance that can be made conscious: a "spirit stuff or energy" of some kind. But what it is made of (if anything other than consciousness) cannot be known. It cannot be seen or touched. It is as if such energy is sacrosanct.
There is no form to the eyes that see, for it is the consciousness or energy itself which can see. It can see almost all the way around itself, but not quite all the way around. Thus you cannot see directly behind you, but you can indeed see well to the left and right in greater vision than human vision. In one’s drifting in this paradise one does not come into contact with the lights at all; and one does not really know what the lights are (one can deduce from hindsight, though). They are just lights, beautiful lights, and their configuration slowly alters with the perspective of one’s movement in orbit.
The darkness itself is indescribable; it is like a translucent glow of purple soup which is somehow vibrant, vital; it is not a void and it is not mere space in between the lights; it is a "something"; but more like a glowing soup or aura, somehow. Perhaps it is the "stuff" that beings "congeal" out of; like planets and stars in the universe. And one’s orbit is through this divine and wondrous darkness amid the jewel-like lights. Thus, it is a brightness as well as a darkness. Like the twilight of the gods indeed.
The description may make it sound a little bit like the physical universe with the stars amid black space; but it is nothing like that at all. If anything, it is more like the vision among a nebula in a past supernova. The lights are much bigger than our perception of stars, which are mere pin pricks of light, and there is a tint of color in them even, as I say, like diamonds; but the predominant aura and glow is white. They have a substance and shape, but there seems to be no absolute uniformity of shape; most seem to be round. The darkness is nothing like outer space, and it is not even dark at all; but darkish, like purple that is glowing.
The lights are not as distant as the stars in space, even though they are not in contact; and the distances between them is many times their actual size. Thus, it is not like the emptiness of outer space at all. Moreover, one can see all this without turning one’s vision, for indeed, one cannot turn one’s vision. There is no "Oh, I think I will look that way or this way"... you just see it all, all the time. But you also know that you are not seeing "it all" at all, for it is infinite and everywhere.
However, that realm is not about the vision, it is about the magic: the knowing, the understanding, the passion, the reality, the knowing the "all," the love, the wisdom, the beauty, and above all else, it is about the purpose of creation and being. It is ineffable, really.
In a word it is all about "being there"; taking part in this Divine mystical union of creation at root beyond time. It seems that the vision itself is a kind of bonus perhaps: a place in which to do this knowing yet whilst in a repose of divine peace; the peace that passes all understanding, perfection, and affirmation of being. It is like an amen to creation; the swan song of perfection.
It is like the last chord of the ultimate piece of perfect music; a chord that comes like an amen after that pregnant pause and build-up to the final chord. There could be nothing cleverer and wiser than to have annihilation precede this reality; it is like music in that sense: the last, and divine chord of created being when all has seemed to be done and finished.
However, it is also the beginning as well as the end, for it is where we come from. It could be described as the cosmological waiting room of created consciousness before transmigration into the experience of time, freedom, and activity.
There are no other beings perceived (or even known of) in paradise; one is totally alone with this truth and its reality. Thus the place and the knowledge is all yours, all mine, all beings from their point of reference and consciousness; it is the realm where all centers meet beyond space and time in the primordial motherload of created consciousness: minds, spirits, beings, whatever you want to call them. "Motherload" does not mean female either. It means the main seam, the core, and the original. It is pure consciousness; beyond time, space, and memory. It (I AM) is the alpha and omega of all extended minds; the beginning and the end of all created beings in creation; the first creation and the home that awaits the return of all created minds, which are but the children or progeny of creation.
Nothing was created before I AM and paradise: and nothing is created after me; I am the beginning and the end of creation. Thus it is that the consciousness in the repose of the eternal domain is the first child of creation—in the Virgin Birth of creation itself. The real and only Virgin Birth (and this one is not symbolic, it is the real thing).
Before the mountains high and wide, before the seas did flow, before the stars gave forth their light, even then, I said, I know.
Before my personality was, I AM. Before cave men came into being, I AM. Look deeper than the stones of the earth and the oceans, and there you will find me; I am the light which is beyond them all; I am the light of life and the resurrection. Know me, and you will know yourself; for I AM... and you are I AM.
Thus, it is not metaphysics but protophysics; before physics. It is not "after time" (although it is that also); it is before time moved; before changing events emanated forth from the center of all being and the eternal point of no duration. We are there at the beginning, like the observer of the first act of creation.
Our self-consciousness in that dimension cannot think; thinking is a temporal process; but it is totally aware nevertheless (thus, knowledge before thought: thus thought depends on knowledge... not the other way around as many seem to assume. Earthly philosophers are like mere babies in Divine ignorance).
It (we) is (are) not aware of things as we are aware of things out here, however, but it is an awareness of what can only be described as the essences and eternal principles and qualities of things; truths; depth realities; quality; meaning; purpose; beauty; wisdom; passion.
That root of our being of eternal consciousness, that part of ourselves which exists there at the deepest level, the first child of creation, is totally in absolute love, a passion beyond description. It is filled with the passion of being to such a degree that if you and I out here were to have that degree of passion burning inside of our temporal minds or guts then we would blow up (and perhaps this caused it to happen during an incarnate life; who knows, who knows); but such passion is like dynamite. It is not like the watered-down love we know in this world, and certainly wonderful though that be. It is more comparable to the heat at the big bang than to the present cosmic temperature.
In this life we tend to think of wisdom as that of knowing what to do, of doing the right and proper thing; because it is wise to do that thing; but that is intelligence, not wisdom. However, the wisdom within that consciousness is nothing like that. Its wisdom is the knowledge of creation itself; the knowledge of the heart: the knowledge of itself and its eternal existence. Knowledge also of that which is not itself; otherness; that which gave event to paradise and oneself; it is uncontradictable certainty of creation; purpose; being; and the wisdom of the beginning and the end of all things. And thence all of which I sum up in the terms the "Eternal Gnosis" or the "Eternal Wisdom."
It is a divine swoon of the exultation of the love of being; and being a part of it all. That "I AM" knows well enough that something brought it forth into being; it knows well enough that it does not contain its own causation. It also knows that the cause of its creation is not paradise itself (the place) in its origin; and not within paradise itself in absolute terms. The first cause cannot be seen, it cannot be directly known independent of essences and created forms, and yet in a way it knows of nothing else other than its love for its source of being. And its source of being is that of no created thing; no thing created. And it is not questionable; it is uncontradictable knowledge and certain reality. There is no doubt. Thus, if it could be said that one is "contemplating" whilst there, which is true in a way, then the thing which one is concentrating (not thinking) on in this swoon of passion, knowledge and delight is that of the love of "No Created Thing."
Thus it is that such a child of consciousness (us in there) is in love and wisdom and yet is but a child, a virgin creation, a virgin birth, no less: pure in its love of otherness and the love of itself and its home which was created for it. Pure in the sense that it cannot think. Pure in the sense that it has had no other experience beyond that of paradise itself. Pure in its love, which is unconditional of anything and unadulterated. For although it somehow knows everything in there, you and I (out here) would say that it knows nothing at all in the sense that we consider knowledge and the understanding of things.
It is a very strange thing, for in this world there are two things that you and I can never ever know; one of them is everything, and the other is nothing. (For "knowing" means to know "some thing"). And yet that part of ourselves in that realm knows only two things: one of them is everything (the essence and principle of) and the other is no thing. How odd, how very odd; it is like a reciprocal reality, or the square root of minus one—except that this place exists in reality.
The "I AM" of that realm has no knowledge of Earth and incarnate existence. No knowledge of the universe or universes of space and time. No knowledge of created forms other than itself and paradise. Thus, those who claim that they are communicating with the dead are either damn liars or very confused people—a little learning is a dangerous thing; drink deep or taste not. They may be Communicating with other living beings maybe, but not these beings, not the totally transcendent. You will not disturb these beings! They are sacrosanct and belong to something else for that duration.In the eternal paradise there is only One, and the one is the all (for we are all identical in it). It is only from hindsight and whilst on Earth (with remembrance of paradise) that we can know that all created consciousness sees it that way, and in the same way; thus, all beings perceive the oneness in the divine transcendent realm of perfect repose, perfect love, and perfect wisdom.
In there there is no pain, no worry (no bills to pay), no answering to do; no eating, no sleeping, no thinking, no memory, no remorse; no hopes or desires, no fears; nothing negative. Thus, it is also a Mono-Pole reality; all positive and no negative (hence no negation). All good; no bad. All beauty; no ugliness. All "now"; no past or future. All understanding and affirmation; no doubt or unknowing. All answers; no questions.
Good god almighty, why was anything ever created so good? Who knows, who can answer! Only that child knows; and that is its wisdom—and it is you.
Search yourself then; for the quest and passion for the knowledge of selfhood and understanding brings knowledge of the deepest depths of the All.
As I drifted in a slow orbit swathed in a love which is ineffable, beyond words and full rational understanding, in a wisdom which is beyond dialogue, in a place of eternal and everlasting perfection, I suddenly heard a voice or command (or the experience of one) and understood a "command" or directive! I had never heard a voice or command before in all my existence, and I was in fear and panic. The voice, or command said... "It is now time to go"!
Words cannot begin to describe this. I had never known communication or words or commands before. I did not know what was communicating with me, or how or why–was it me or was it something else? I began thinking... what is thinking! There is nothing else, only me! I did not know what "go" meant, and yet, somehow I did begin to understand. And as I began to understand I was in even more fear and panic (was I biting from the tree of knowledge?), for there was nowhere else to go; only this place exists.... No, no, I do not want to go (I do not know how I invoked or understood such communication for I had never communicated with anything). But I know not of "go," this is my home and my love... I cannot go! (The first thought... and not by choice).
"It is all well that you must go now, for something out there is in need and you must now be with it: do not fear, it is all well that you must go now... now be with it"!
That fear at knowing I was "going" is not possible to put into words; it could not be put into words. But one knew nothing of other things, or worlds, or time and space. Nothing. Nothing other than Eternal Paradise.
I did not open my eyes for they had never been closed as far as I know. Returning was instantaneous action at a distance. I was looking at a cat fast asleep on my lap. My arms hung limp at my side. The fire had long since burned away and all was as quiet as the grave.
It was very late into the evening and growing cold, yet my body was warm, comfortable. All was as it had been except the fire was out, the cat fast asleep; and about three hours or so had elapsed.
No amount of words or pages could ever sum up my initial feelings and thoughts on returning to temporal consciousness and the same life that I had left seemingly millions of millions of years ago. Yet it was but three hours ago. I must have sat staring at the wall ahead of me for the next hour dumb-struck; without moving as much as an eyeball or a muscle. I was in shock. There are no words to describe the feeling, the shock, the excitement, the annoyance of coming back—the impossibility of it all. I was shocked, joyful, sad at returning, bemused, enlightened, annoyed, happy, mind blown yet understanding—all at the same instant.
By the time I got around to moving it was about eleven p.m. I wondered what would have happened to the children if the house had caught fire or if one of them had awakened and come downstairs. I thought more in that next hour than I had thought in all my past life put together; but none of my thinking made any sense to the rational mind.
When I came to my full rational senses I shouted out to myself... "Good grief almighty what the hell was that"! I was indeed back to normality, my old charming ignorant self. But perhaps not quite so ignorant now.
I staggered into the kitchen to make a strong cup of coffee, which I took up to bed with me. The children were sleeping fine and did not look as though they had moved all evening. I did not think I would be able to sleep ever again. But wrong again, for I was sound asleep within no time at all, and before my wife returned home from her evening out with friends.
I never told anyone of that event; the paradise event, for twenty years or more, for obvious reasons. Not a word; not a mention. What the hell could one say! And we all know well enough the reaction it would receive. It was therefore not only the secret teaching—but unspeakable! Or was it!?
During the course of the following thirty years (up to the time of writing) I learned so much more, however; but such cannot go into a book or words in detail for it would take forever; and there is little point anyway, for we all do our own learning in our own way, and when the time is ripe. Second-hand knowledge is not knowledge at all. Revelation at second hand does not work on anyone.
I had undergone what I later came to call the "Mutual Convergence" (in annihilation). Twenty years later, I underwent yet another most profound experience which I came to call the "Reciprocal Convergence": or the "Consummatum Incarnate" (paradise on earth). Here there is another kind of union, a reciprocity of "meeting again"—and on earth, between the inner self and the outer personality in a oneness. And only then did I come to see the connection, the reason, the meaning and purpose of the "I AM" in paradise, in which the function and purpose of the incarnate mind and the inner depths of self and the objective physical universe are fulfilled in a unification of mindful being on earth; the three in one, in a dance among the temporal forms on earth; and which was understood as the very purpose of creation itself and the reason why even paradise exists—and has to be known while yet on this Earth during an incarnate lifetime here. They have to be joined on earth also; that is the goal, the function and purpose—that eternal self is no longer alienated in conscious awareness from the incarnate mortal form.
And hence the saying that the outer has become as the inner and the purpose of being has been fulfilled, consummated, in the perfection of forms as it was in the beginning in the transcendent essence of being; so, too, has it become in the forms in extension.
In that knowing and understanding creation has achieved its goal incarnate; and within the knowing incarnate mind of a finite personality... but "I AM" eternal. The mind is not in this universe simply to observe it, but rather to fulfill it and know it for what it is. You and I AM are one. You are I AM. Know thyself.
However, that was way off in the future; twenty long years in the future. In the meantime, time did get mean at times; and from hindsight I can only call it a twenty-year period of the dark night of the soul at times: for I had not yet learned of the reciprocal convergence of spirit with spirit on earth in the consummatum or reciprocal convergence. But in the meantime there also existed a dichotomy, a duality of being; one being perfect and the other far from perfect. A little learning is a dangerous thing, so drink deep or taste not the divine eternal spring. Where metaphysics hangs its coat; and mystics dwell in awe; the singer may be sighted; but the song goes on some more. Believe what you will, whilst you are free to do so; for you will not always be so!
But wiser by far to believe nothing at all; for knowledge will suffice: and ignorance melts away with experience. But instantly after that Paradise event of transcendence itself there was but one thought, one knowledge, one understanding and affirmation... and which is... Oh... no... Oh... my God... how beautiful it is! Oh my Love, would that they could know this; would that their eyes could see and their minds understand as to what they are, and from whence they came; the beauty, the truth, the passion. My love, give me the understanding; and give me the words, that I might speak of the wonder of being. And let us create Man in our image.
It is an irony that you and I here on earth, the temporal rational discursive mind, find it all too easy to accept anything that is bad as being true, and yet the acceptance of anything good being true is so difficult. That synthesis of inner understanding may well be easier for some than it is for others. I had more than enough problems with it—more than enough. And it took so much to make me understand and accept it. Would that it could be easier for others. I think that there is no better reason for making mention of these things for the young. We all learn from experience eventually, and that is natural enough. But to be able to learn, to some degree at least, from the mistakes of others, then that would be even better.
The Dark Side (1963-1983): Dichotomy and Synthesis
If it had been the case that in fact there was no such thing as our spiritual reality (and as I had perhaps assumed the case to be as a youngster) then all such talk and speculation on spirituality would be mere opinion; and unjustified opinion at that. But when such reality becomes self-evident by direct personal demonstrable experience such as I underwent, and of which you have just read a brief synopsis, then it does indeed become a real justified target for thought and contemplation.
I would imagine that the immediate reactions of people to such a profound event as a mystic death and resurrection encounter would be very different, and depend to a large extent upon the personality involved and their past mode of thinking. My own reaction was immediate ambivalence and much confusion. I include this section then, ultra-brief though I will have to make it, in the case that it might assist others to avoid so many years of inner frustration and a long, drawn-out synthesis in acceptance and understanding of the events.
Thus it was then that at the age of twenty four, whilst sitting alone one evening minding my own business and expecting nothing, that event occurred. And how is one supposed to react to that! Then again how is one supposed to react to any experience ? What is experience?
Could anyone even begin to describe how they felt I wonder, for I certainly cannot, and there are no words anyway. I did not even know that such inner "events" existed to be known and experienced. I was dumbfounded and mind blown. This was not knowledge and experience as I understood knowledge and experience to be; and yet it was as real as being alive on earth. For three hours (on the outside) and forever (within) I had seen things and learned things, knew things; that I could not accept as being true when returning to "normality." How does one cope with that? How is one supposed to cope with it? No person tells us that. We all walk through this mysterious creation alone—or in existential conscious terms anyway.
For awhile then, I was confronted with a direct demonstrable reality, which I did not want to know and could not understand, for it was too much and too "way out" and different. Not only that but it was too good. It was too good for me and it was too good for reality itself. The world was an obvious obnoxious cock-up; but that thing, elaboration of the mind, hallucination during a trance, or whatever it was, was wondrous beyond words and belief; there was nothing better, and nothing even equal to that existence.
It did not add up to or equate with the rest of reality, whatever "reality" is. Was it the case that I had gone mad maybe? Did I really die for three hours? That cannot be right surely! Was it a vision of death whilst yet still alive maybe? Was it the case that the mind was some kind of confidence trickster to itself maybe; and for what purpose or function? Or was it that it really was what it seemed to be—could that really be true? And why me of all people!? I am not that "kind" of person! My mind was in a giddy spin for about three months. Yet one also had to carry on with the normal daily chores and events as usual, as though nothing had ever happened at all.
It occurred to me that it was a damn good job that I had a keen sense of humor and a down to earth kind of personality. I think that alone kept me sane. Is it any wonder then that such people to whom these things happen (I found out later that it did happen to others) then begin to wander the moors on their own, to think, wonder, contemplate, ask themselves questions: and try to understand it all; and why it happened to them? It is no wonder at all. Life shows us things, and in so doing the nature of the mind is forced to ask questions and seek answers to them.
A question is much like a vacuum in the mind, and nature—and the mind itself it seems—abhors a vacuum. In due course I came to learn that some people actually go looking for "esoteric" experiences. They must be the mad ones I thought; for sufficient unto the day are the problems thereof.
After about six months had gone by I decided to give up even thinking about it at all. For it did not make any sense; and obviously no answers were going to come. A peasant like myself could not work these things out, so there was no point even thinking about it.
As a young man I had never had what some like to call a philosophy, religion, or belief system; and being young is the time when one is learning so much about life anyway, and that is not the time for forming conclusions. But I guess I thought along the lines that the human mind and consciousness were the product of electrochemical actions within the brain and that the thing we called "our conscious self" was the product of this biological and electrochemical stimulation; and that was the sum of it.
What I learned that evening, however—and among other things—was a contradiction to that hypothesis. But one is so used to thinking along certain channels of thought that when one is jolted out of one them, one questions the reality of the new concepts, not the old ones; for the old ones fit in the mind like a snug warm glove—potted thinking and self-created assumptions though they may be. And which for the large part have been put there by our indoctrination, nurture, and education from other people since childhood; for they tell us what life and reality is all about. Thus one is faced with the dichotomy and paradox of all time. If these things are really real, truly independent of simply experiencing them, then the conventional thinking of both science and religion is wrong. So what is real then: book-learning or direct human experience!?
The dichotomy was also exacerbated by the fact that I loved and enjoyed the events and that reality so much, and yet the implications that it also brought did not appeal to me a great deal.
One of the implications of that transcendent mode of being is that you and I are never terminated as such, but simply undergo a broken continuity of self-existence. (Broken by the event of annihilation and then beginning again in that mysterious resurrection—which then eventually leads back into this world or perhaps some other incarnate world or dimension again.) But I did not fancy the idea of continuity, broken or otherwise. Another is that you and I are not even from this world at all, in essence or spirit, anyway. Also, that we are not mere puppets of a Divine Order but rather the very right-hand partner of it all; its direct progeny. What a lot of stupid nonsense surely; that cannot be true!
The initial question then, which one faces after such an event, is whether one actually believes or accepts such events and the learning received therein to be really true or not, and irrespective of experiencing it—what about actually living it?
This new situation caused me a little trouble to say the least; for I did not even know how to believe things. I was happy enough in knowing a few things and also of my ignorance of other things. I had seen a little of life on earth, and mysterious and pleasant as it was some of the time the large part was that of suffering and downright misery for most people on earth. And most of it was caused by people themselves: arguments, wars, hostilities, deprivation, exploitation, and it was no joke and certainly no paradise to be sure, and we were no divine beings. Or if we were then something had gone very wrong somewhere along the way.
But what I had seen and been in that evening was a paradise of perfect existence. Why? How come? And why me! What was the point of it all? How the hell could anything be so good... and yet real. And how could it be so good... and yet not real? How can you exist in something that does not exist to be existed in? How can you know something that does not exist to be known? It must be bloody real—but it can’t be! And so the inner synthesis goes for a while.
But if it were true that you and I were never destroyed in absolute terms, and if those things are true, then who in their right mind would ever want to come back here again anyway? For you cannot stay there in that dimension of mind even if it is real. I do not want to come here again and that is for sure, for this world is juvenile and cretinous enough without having to live here with the memory of that other place—which makes it even seem worse here on earth.
I began reading all kinds of literature for awhile; for I had to know if others had seen and been in this same identical reality that I had seen and been in. But there is so much to read and so little time left after work to do it all. Yet that which I did come to read during the first year or two had no resemblance to what I had seen, learned, and knew.
After reading much ridiculous nonsense that had no relevance to that which I had seen and known I gave up reading again and tried to revert back to my love of chess—but it had gone! I could no more get interested in playing serious chess than I could in digging holes in the ground. I could not concentrate on chess—it seemed too trivial and a waste of good time. And that annoyed me so very much, for I had loved chess for so many years; and now that love had gone, deserted me; and not of my choice. Why?
After about six or seven months I decided to give up even thinking about that evening and that wondrous transcendent event; for not only did it not relate to anything in normal perception but it could not be got at by choice anyway; and nobody knew anything about it. So what was the point in even thinking about it, yet alone asking questions and trying to think and make sense of it all?
I returned to my old philosophy, of "sod the lot of it"! I had concluded that whatever it really was, and experienceable though it was, knowable though it was, that I did not want to know, and that I did not want to think of it any longer. I was not mentally up to it. So I stopped thinking about it.
Every time the thought, memory, feeling, and inner passion flashed across my mind I deliberately pushed it aside and thought about other things instead—difficult though it was. But resolute I had always been.
After about another month had gone by I had the first and only nightmare that I have ever had in my life. A nightmare that was a dream I will never forget for as long as I live; and which then acted as a major catalytic event at that time.
I dreamt that I was out walking over the moors on a very bright starlit night. There was no moon but the stars were so bright and so abundant that I could see well enough to the top of the hill towards which I was walking. I knew the path even though the path itself was dark and not well seen as such; but the illumination from the sky made the top of the hill stand out in silhouette and quite clear to vision. I knew that there were no hazards underfoot, and thus I could walk in confidence. All of a sudden somebody switched on a searchlight. I had been walking quite slowly, both hands in my pockets whilst whistling to myself as I walked.
At the event of this light being switched on I was thus taken by surprise; for I knew that it was a searchlight, and yet there was no war on. So who the hell was looking for what out here on the barren moor at this time of the night with such a bright light?
It then occurred to me that something was wrong; the damn light was upside down! I had seen enough search-lights during the war and knew well enough what they looked like; and this bugger was upside down. I began to hasten my steps, for the light was in the direction I was walking toward anyway; and I was intrigued to find out what it was for, and what they were looking for at this time of the night. But on realizing that it was upside down I guessed that it must have been a slow-moving airplane or a helicopter with a new silencing method; for there was no sound whatsoever. Moreover, the light was not moving. It became obvious that the point of the light was up in the sky and that the wide bit was on the ground. But some sod up there was looking for something on the ground, yet there was nothing but barren moor out here.
Then the light began to move. It began what one can only describe as a scanning action. The point at the top was stationary and the beam itself was moving slowly across the moor in a straight line. It then stopped, shot back instantly to a point in the opposite direction where it had begun scanning, and then started scanning a little lower down the hill—just enough lower down that it would not have missed anything. I became even more and more intrigued. I took my hands out of my pockets and began walking a little faster toward it. I arrived at a point where I could ascertain that the diameter of the beam on the ground was about six feet, and indeed very bright.
The scanning had continued... slowly across, fast back, a little further down and then slowly across again, time after time. These buggers were resolute if nothing else. I reached a point where the beam on the ground was only about twelve feet away from me; but there was still no sound and no sign of where the light was coming from in the sky. At that point I simply stopped walking and just continued to watch the event.
On the next scan the beam passed by where I stood by about four feet or so. It did not even occur to me that if I did not move out the way the next scan would cover the point where I was standing; or if it had occurred to me, then it did not bother me at all; for I just stood there and watched it; for it was fascinating. As predicted by past events it got to the end of that scan, flashed back to its original point of movement and slowly began its next scan again. It had not stopped in its movement since all this had begun. As it approached I saw that its path was coming straight toward me as I had assumed; but when it got where I was standing...It stopped dead!
I was panic stricken. I could not move. I was transfixed to the spot. I instantly looked upward, and although the light was so dazzling, I knew that the upper end, the narrow point end, was something do with me; but I had to turn my eyes away for the brightness was too much; and in looking back down I did not see myself—but I saw that ugly bent twisted tree which I had seen over the moors some seven months back; I was that useless tree.
I did not wake up; it was as though I had never been asleep at all. I was flung out of bed and crashed into the wall, which made my nose bleed. I had never known panic before in all my life. I was sweating buckets and bleeding. I rushed downstairs like a bat out of hell and made a series of strong cups of coffee. I could hardly stop shaking in panic; yet I did not know what I was even frightened of; for the dream itself was a soft and pleasant dream; and I did not frighten easily by anything anyway.
It was my reaction to it that was the nightmare. I eventually relaxed a little after about five cigarettes and three cups of coffee. I grabbed a book out of the bookcase and began studying some weird and wonderful opening variation on the Sicilian defense Dragon variation to take my mind of it. It was about three in the morning by now, and there was no way that I was going to go back to bed that night. Thus it was not the dream itself which was the nightmare but rather my reaction to it, and fear of I knew not what. I just did not understand.
How the hell could the mind throw up a wondrous scenario as I had experienced those few months back and then tonight... this!? It got me asking questions again, and that is for sure. It worked! It was as though the dream was somehow symbolic. After transcendence I somehow knew that I knew something which I could not know now, or consciously know now anyway, but that it would come, whatever it was—a kind of answer or synthesis to the events. But that was somehow intuitive understanding and thus questionable. I did not really know it for absolute certainty.
When one settles down again the thinking and questioning then starts in earnest, and in a calmer action from hindsight. Strange that we can be moved into action by bad events and forget the good ones! OK then, these things do happen; so what is going on then, how and why? And what the hell does whatever it is really want? Where is all this going to, and why, and how? And why me?
I cannot go into any detail of the events that occurred over the next twenty years for it would take forever. But what happened shortly after that dream was most odd. It was as though every time I came to be motivated by a certain topic I then contemplated upon that topic of thought, and then within a short while, sometimes weeks and sometimes months, I would have some very strange kind of psychic experience which could be seen as a direct answer to the very issue I had been contemplating upon—like an answer. This is ridiculous I thought; and yet it is damn well happening.
This involved all kinds of experiences, but never quite the same kind twice. I did not even want them; this was not my kind of "thing," not me. I did not want to see past and future events as pictures flashed up in my mind. I did not want deep inner empathies with people. I did not want pictures flashed up in my mind as to what they were thinking or what they had in their pockets even. What the hell was going on and what was the point of it all? I did not want any of this stuff. I just wanted to be left alone to get on with my life and normal daily reality.
These experiences, however, were much different from that first big event, the transcendent event; and anyway, these other "psychic" or whatever-they-were experiences did not answer questions about that other reality as such, but simply seemed to show me various potentials which the mind could somehow accomplish at times; and god only knows how or why. But that first experience was not so much about what the mind could come to do but rather—what it was! Assuming it was true, of course. However, these other things were always proved at the time that they were indeed true, for they could be proved; they were proved; and they were never ever wrong, not a one of them. Is something trying to tell me something—if so what and why!? And why indeed me; for I asked for none of this at all?
These things continued on and off for nearly eighteen years. By this time, or long before it in fact, I had got used to them, and simply smiled about them. It was not as though these events were happening every day: far from it; and life, as it had always been, was reasonable enough; good times and bad times the same as anyone else has, but not extremes of anything.
Then for awhile nothing happened at all, not a jot. I began to think and accept that all these things were now over for me in this lifetime, and that perhaps I had seen far more than enough anyway. Yet many claimed to understand their experiences (or so they said), but I was damned if I could. I felt a deep inner gratitude for having been so fortunate to see such wonders, and yet somehow, and by virtue of it, I felt somehow "left up in the air." It was as though somehow, like a pistol, I had been cocked but not fired. I was un-resolved.
It was all still unsynthesized in rational comprehension. There was no final synthesis to the flow and understanding of it all, and the why. A half-baked understanding. A little learning may well be a dangerous thing, but it can also be damned frustrating, as I found out. For an inner part of me knew things somehow, even understood them somehow in an emotional understanding, yet the outer and rational part of my mind did not accept them or even want to know. Imagine listening to the most beautiful song in creation and then the singer skips the last chord, the resolution to the harmony, the last amen—that is how I felt. But luckily my own personality could still laugh at it. It created no hang up as such, but more a kind of rational annoyance than anything. I began, on black days, to wish that I had seen nothing of all these things at all; and yet I knew that I did not really mean that; it was just that dark cloud that can pop up at times, I guess.
By the time I reached forty years of age I thought all such past experiences beyond the normal range of sensory data had now finished in my case. I had even accepted and become used to the idea that no more was going to be seen and that no full synthesis of understanding would ever come. My degree of intelligence, or lack of it, could not work it out. And anyway I did not even want to work it out now—I damn well wanted to know!
Life was ticking over OK. I was now married for the second time after my first two children had grown up and were doing their own thing; and now there were two more young ones in the second marriage (with one more yet to come—another surprise!). I had what seemed like two full lives in one, as it were; five children in all and one foster child, who we took on from the deprived area of inner Bristol. I often chuckle when I read of these academics who inform us how best to bring up our children; the sociologists with bits of paper and a Ph.D. (Piles of Hybrid Dribble), and often they have not even had any children. Their "knowledge" is all academic, not direct hard-earned experience. Ignorance is bliss!
If I had another five hundred children then it would still be guesswork and instinctive reactions for the large part. (Plus the fact that they are all very different and with different needs and personalities; children are not clones that conform to rules of convention.) But if they are loved, they will not go far wrong it seems, either in wealth or in relative poverty. But having them if they are not loved and wanted is the greatest tragedy in the universe of mankind and the existing human condition. Children know whether they are loved or not intuitively; and not simply by words. Too many people say "I love you" in this world; but do they really know what real love (not need) and deep passion really are, I wonder?
However, one spring morning when the kids were at school, my wife and I went out with our dog to the hills overlooking the Chew Valley lakes near Bristol where we lived for eight years: for she had been attending Bath University for three or four years. We thought it was such a nice day that we would take a picnic and she could study some papers she had to deal with whilst taking in the fresh air.
The view was crystal clear that day and the sun was soft and warm with just an occasional pleasant fresh breeze; it was perfect weather. After our sandwiches and a drink my wife settled down to her studies whilst I was playing with the dog; he loved the "fetch" game, for he was a Springer.
After a certain amount of chasing around, I, getting a little older and less energetic than I had been, eventually slumped down on the grass for a rest whilst the dog chewed on his stick. I was in a position about eight feet away from my wife and behind her. She was lost in her work; the dog was lost in the joys of his stick and his earlier chasing, so I simply began to look around me to admire the view.
After a few minutes or so something strange began to happen. It was very peaceful, there were no other people around, and there fell a kind of hush that one experiences at rare times, as though all sounds were muted a little. Like one of those days when walking on air or cotton wool, or on soft new snow; a unity of peace, which is rare on earth.
Just at that point the dog trotted over to me with his stick; he wanted me to throw it again for him. But I could not be bothered to get up so I simply threw it whilst reclining on the grass. As the stick flew though the air it began to sparkle, or so it seemed. Perhaps it was the reflection of the sun. But as the dog was leaping through the long deep grass, as it was at that part of the field the dog also began to "glow" with a strange inner radiance. As I looked around me, my wife (I could only see her back and her hair) was also glowing. The grass was glowing, and the trees. I looked at my hands: they were glowing with an inner light of pure radiance. I began to think I was perhaps not very well or something, yet I felt fine, tremendous; never felt better.
I scanned the whole vista around me. Everything was glowing with an inner light; the world was different than I had ever seen it before. The lakes way down below us, the sky, the trees, the few puffs of small white clouds, the grass, my shoes, everything, was shimmering with this inner light and a wondrous radiance; and it was all becoming more so and more so—what on earth is happening?
Then the "hushedness" of sound which had existed turned into a kind of "hum." Not a hum as such but a kind of unified "song" or symphony of sound. I could hear the ants, the bees, insects in the grass, the dog’s breath, it was almost as though I could hear all our own hearts beating and blood pumping. And yet it was a unified kind of sound, almost like music in fact. I was dumbstruck and amazed, for I had never seen anything like this before. It was as though the physical senses had been liberated from a sleep and come alive to a greater spectrum of creation itself; the world was different; and amazing.
Then it happened! It is indescribable; ineffable. Twenty years earlier I could describe the journey to that transcendent paradise; annihilation; the resurrection; what it is like in that paradise, and what it looks like and feels like; but my god almighty, I cannot describe this. It was as though a hole had opened up in creation itself. As though there had been a blockage up the pipe-line which was now cleared by a flue brush clearing out the muck of the senses. There was no "gap" between the transcendent paradise realm and this earth, for they were "joined," directly connected; a blockage had become unblocked. For I now recognized those shimmering lights, I had seen them before when in that "nothing"—Limbo, all those years ago.
I realized only now, and for sure, that those lights I had seen on the journey to that paradise dimension whilst in "nothing" were the naked face and wave front of the act of creation itself. I had wondered about it on many occasions—but now—now I knew it. That which was within; the Divine Implicate Order, is now out there, in the world also, and on a new "wavefront" of my own mind’s interaction with objective reality itself. Good grief almighty.
And just at that point I began to be bombarded by what one can only call chunks of "data," understanding, and comprehension. As though a million pieces of jig-saw puzzle were being tossed up into the air and putting themselves together in the finished picture of comprehension. It pounded and pounded and pounded with relentless velocity and increasing frequency. It was as though my I AM in transcendence and the personality incarnate become one on earth in a gusher of a union.
In transcendence the outer I had gone to IT: but here and now, on earth, IT, the implicate inner reality, the child of that Divine realm, had come out to me. We danced again in a swoon of unified passion and delight, as it had been in paradise those long twenty years ago. So too was it again, now, on earth; the inner had become the outer: the below as the above. When I went to IT the outer consciousness had gone too and become as the inner consciousness.
But now the inner child (of mind at root) walked upon the face of the earth—the essential spirit of being was liberated... on earth through me! I gave myself up and let that consciousness walk in my body—to see the trees, to feel the breeze, to show it the finished product of creation in the outer multitude; the synthesis of the vortex of emanation. I had shared paradise... and my love... I give the world to you now, through me!
In transcendence there had been a union in the Mutual Convergence (in annihilation and resurrection) but this was a reciprocal event, the Reciprocal Convergence, Paradise on earth, the Consummatum Incarnate! Good god almighty I cannot take much more of this!
And yet it kept coming, more and more, stronger and stronger. I thought I was going to burst with passion and explode like I did once before. But not so, I was just engulfed in, and surrounded by a love, a wisdom; all knowledge, all comprehension, all affirmation, all at the same instant and in ultimate dosage—and in a physical world unimaginable. And then... and then it came to me, revealed and comprehended in one shocker of a blast Something had once given me the understanding...
"It is now time to go. Do not fear, for it is all well that you must go now, for something out there is in need; and you must now be with it; do not fear, go now; be with it"!
In twenty years I had never understood that bit; I had never come to understand it, and I assumed that I never would come to understand it. But now, twenty years almost to the day later, I understood it implicitly; and it was the first time in my life that I wept; and albeit on the inside; for it was the soul that wept. Good god almighty—I knew what was in need—it was the world itself: the trees, the flowers, the sun and the sky, the stars themselves—that they might become like this: and it is mine to give, through the love; through me... to them!
Normality slowly began to return. The "music" gradually turned back into the normal sounds of the bees and the breeze. The inner lights of the emanation of being slowly dimmed back into the colors of normal matter and things. The "hushedness" faded into normality, and the gates of paradise closed again. No doubts, no questions, no dichotomy, no unfinished song; the last amen had been sung and danced—on earth. The last chord made whole and finalized—and this—is creation done: the finished product. The synthesis of paradise and earth; the purpose and function of creation and being. And I was never the same child again, for the child had become a man. Somebody else walked out of the field that day; somebody very different; and the twenty-year wait was over. Twenty years in the wilderness of the resolution of the paradise event. But to have waited ten million years would have been worth it. There is nothing one can say, except that it is now achieved; Consummatum Est! And I now Understand.
My wife did not even know that anything had happened in that field during that hour or so; and I did not say a word. I was worn out, wrung out, drained, and mind-blown yet again; yet so very different from the last time when returning from the transcendent event twenty years earlier. Had I not seen that transcendent paradise twenty years before, I would never have understood this event at all. But now I did. I read somewhere once that the young would have visions and that when old they would dream dreams. How strange, how very strange. All I can do now is to dream dreams of a better world for young minds to come into; for this one seems to be spiritually dead.
It would seem to me that there must come a time, in one incarnate lifetime or another, when a soul must walk these paths for themselves. It is more to do with the evolution of the individual’s soul than that of the existing temporal manifestation of that soul’s incarnate mind as such. It is plain enough that not all human beings on earth undergo such events during this lifetime; and yet they must do so eventually, for it is the evolution of the incarnate soul itself. There is no evolution in paradise, but only in extension of it. We were not made for paradise (we were made in it); but we were made for freedom; in a temporal world—a world which we are given the freedom and power to make by way of our own desires and efforts. How incredible! "Here is the ‘stuff,’ my love, make with it what you will"!
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