 Suddenly everything fell away. Splintered away rapidly, actually without a measurement of speed, but with a sense of vastness and all-inclusive suddenness. I mean, ALL inclusive. The modern world's conveniences, appliances, stigmas, sheltering sweltering beliefs and lies and dreams, all of it, suddenly, fell away. Away from this particular self which sat stoic and frozen, though breathing, upon my nightly bed before slumbering into dreamland, before keeping eyelids closed for so many hours, here I sat, and deep in meditation, all of it all fell away. And the moment was simple, and life was simple, just for the moment. It was not the past. It was not a point in time. Nor was it a location in space, nor in any dimension. It was more than a feeling, less than an action, sort of like an awareness, but more than that word... More, and less, simultaneously, suddenly, and all-ness, and everything-ness. And nothing.
I suppose it sort of did feel like "the past." Before there were computers and machines and guns and wars. (Or were there always wars goddamn-it?) Nevertheless, there was a beautiful delicious nothingness. Just a sense of human flesh, human spirit, human mind. Heart pulsating so divinely, so simply. We didn't even yet know what we looked like anatomically, inside. Perhaps we were made simply of light, and perhaps we did not even cast a shadow. But again, it wasn't really the past. It wasn't really before anything. Just a moment. Stretched to feel like timelessness. Stretched, highlighted and gathered into one point. But not one. And not a point. It's like Don Miguel Ruiz says, we don't know what we are. We just know that here we are, and we are something. And we call it human, we have many words for it. But what it really is, we do not really know. What is it to know anyway?
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The day is as gray as possible. Grayer, even. So much so that one can feel a depressive mood hanging in the air, like an awkward stillness between strangers in an elevator. Like the nervousness that hangs between individuals when they are trying too hard to make conversation. Or, like the sullen clouds, simply low and ready to burst with rain. Ready to cry.
Suddenly, sun. Its warmth and gentle yellowness caress my cheeks. The clouds having parted for just a short moment, I've soaked in an ounce of joy. And then, back to gray. It used to be that overcast days didn't bother me much. They took the pressure off of having to be cheerful. One could sulk freely on an "ugly" day. That novel idea alone caused me to think the grayness not at all ugly, but relaxing. Soothing even. And yet. Now. I hunger for sunshine. As if unconsciously realizing that its preciousness is eventually doomed, destroyed. Millions of years hence, perhaps. Still, enough to render it mortal, just like us. And that just makes it easier to resent, easier to love, easier to wallow in, joyfully. |
