Over the next hour, I was present only as movement and bliss. My mind barely spoke to me and while I exerted my body impossibly, I felt utterly ecstatic. In this unencumbered state I ran almost to the third way station before finding someone abandoned and struggling with blisters. They leaned on my shoulder and together we tripled their pace to the bottom crossing the finish line using me as a new leg.
The driver of the dump truck had been visiting next door and arrived without a child in sight so when he climbed back into the truck and began driving, the thump of the right front tire ending my brother no doubt became a lifelong trauma for him.
When I was three years old, my little brother, Mark, who was a bit over a year and a half at the time, was killed by a dump truck that was parked in front of the motel room next to our motel room. The driver pulled up some time earlier, parked and entered next door. Then he came back out, jumped in his truck and began driving.
The world of things is like an echo in consciousness. There is always the mere unmodified conscious current that registers, and then the body-mind converts the patterns of energy into the objects that it experiences as itself and the world, and this too registers in consciousness. My body-mind thinks it is a someone but “I am” only an echo of self-contraction.
My thoughts and thinking processes are becoming less and less coherent…and that’s a good thing or so it feels, as my spiritual process continues to generate changes in how I function even while love-bliss crashes down through me. I’m finding it more difficult to blog these days as a result. Or at least my…
I have imagined in the moments just prior to death, my body distressed and suffering and can see the egoic nonsense of thinking that enlightenment is only possible when everything is just right. And since it’s never just right, it’s permanently postponed. If a little background anxiety is sufficient to distract my attention from The Great One on a calm, blue-sky day, what chance would exist for this fool in the jaws of a bear at the moment of death.
If you and I were standing on the side of a stream right now and I pointed out an eddy to you, you’d be able to see what I meant and would agree, yes, “I see it”. It would for you and I exist as a separate something, a specific whirlpool, there about 20 feet from the shore, about 8 feet in diameter although a bit oval in shape, and with a foam of white water swirling in it’s middle.
In my morning meditations, I’ve begun to feel closer to the edge of the self-contraction. There are times when all body awareness, thoughts and feelings fade into a blissful current of felt energy, and I can almost sense how it’s not inherent in the energy itself that it be experienced as “things”. That somehow, there is just energy and “I” am spontaneously generating the dichotomy of subject and object as my attention “notices” what appear to be patterns.
When I fist listened to a discourse by Adi Da Samraj in the year 2005, the first thing that struck me was His incredible eloquence even in public gatherings while speaking spontaneously. He spoke in polished, essay like, prose that was simultaneously very humorous and understandable while being evocative and precise. He has a…
When feeling this sweet current of Being that is The Beloved and any of my more overt contracted inclinations show up, instead of heading straight off in the direction of the accompanying thoughts like a dog chasing a car, I notice in that moment the blissfulness start to recede or at least become more muted.