It can be any day, any season. Often enough, it's outside. You're on your way somewhere. Anywhere. Then it hits you. You're third eye stops fluttering, and the curtain is withdrawn. That veil of mundane illusion is lifted. The world is suddenly, utterly and beyond description, alive. Every fiber of the cosmos is breathing. How else can one put it but in a metaphor? Life is in the rock. Life is in the blade of grass. Life is in the vibrant blossoming of spring. Life is in the sleeping trees of winter. The air. The sky. The infinite light of the sun. There's a mystery again in the air. A playful mystery. One that is revealed entirely to you, snatching you up in its vision. The energy is beyond measure. It seems that everything you have ever known was a fleeting thought. The incessant rambling of the mind is silenced to a mere, unimportant whimper. Both the conscious and unconscious mind reaches out to touch the infinite, and it responds in an un-paralled manner. So there you are. Standing, sitting, walking stunned and awed. You can hardly do whatever you were doing, because THIS is it. There is nothing more, and nothing less. Completely intangible. Completely thoughtless. Life abounding, life without birth or death, only creativity that twists, turns, darkens and brightens, spirals out in hues of endless potential. You wander on. Perhaps have a seat on a bench, a stool. Something. Your breath is noticed, your heartbeat. Your organic nature is suddenly appreciated. It is as if nature has drastically called you back from sleep with but a simple whisper. In nothing more than a fleeting mutter, the world is entirely changed. Things in no way become more certain in these states, and the lessons you learn are extensive and various. Yet, they are in no way certain. There is no more certainty, only indefinity. What you have experiened cannot be measured, weighed and packaged by systems of thought or understanding. Sometimes you are with people when it happens, and all you can do is express THIS. There is nothing more. No selfishness, no doctrine, no philosophy. It just is. After a while, the daydream begins to call. That lullaby our culture has so nurtured and promoted. You are soothed back to sleep, back to work, back to the tiny happenings of a smaller world. The Earth of the Gridlock nation, dancing in that myth of perpetual binding. Lost again, we enter the labrynth. You realize the keys to the chains are our very minds, the chains our very dreams. Cease the nightmare, you think, and birth our cosmic awakening.
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I liked it a lot myself. Is it meant to discuss spontaneous semi-enlightenment, or drug-induced visions? Or is it BOTH? or...neither?
I don't know what to call it. I don't call it anything really but 'awakening'. It's like . . . When you wake up in the morning. You lie in bed. Your eyes are closed. You're still fluttering in and out of consciousness. Then, suddenly, the dreams dissolve, and you find yourself lying there, awake. All the noises of the house are heard. The subtle happenings, the birds outside, the light through the windows. You know what I'm saying?
Though I have had stunning revelations while in different 'states', during these it's often enough 'sober'. I use 'sober' because what is that anyway? Well, yes, there's the dictionary meaning for that. There is also the dictionary meaning for 'normal', yet what is normal, really? There is no such thing. These states I experience, that we all experience, all have revelations in their own right. Here I am, sitting on my computer, and I experience THIS sight. There I am, standing in the forest's morning light, and THAT is sight. Whether I am as I am now, in this perception, or in another perception with the help of herbs and plants, there is always something to be experienced. There is always sight. We hold the vision to the myriad universe. Do you see? Even in these states there is much to be learned. Let your vision be the doorway to ascension, and the mirror of yourself. Let your roots be deep, your years span the seasons and your arms reach into illumination. The song of Earth and the way of nature has never abandoned us. It is here. You can see it. In your back yards and on the streets. Creeping subtly in our concrete tombs, birthing green life from our gray death. Do you see? We may share in its blossoming, if we only allow our selves to do so.
