3-14-1981 | 7:20 am
Darkness envelopes my every sense, though that is not quite correct. To stipulate darkness there would need to be the ability to sense physical stimulation. There is none. The very lack of touch, taste, or sight is the persistent state of being. Persistence in void. A timeless expansion of nothingness. Adrift in a cosmic soup of primordial knowing. The state before all states.
Offin the distance, I can see the faintest point of light. The first I've ever seen. Or just another in an endless succession of reiterations. This cannot be the first time. My all-pervading sense of knowing is transmuting into an interactive proliferation of physical sensation and ignorance. A sweeping eternity of peace turned chaos. How far have I yet to fall? Am I falling, or flying? It's become hard to tell as what once was this encompassing certainty of all things slowly slips into the neurologic interpretation of the mind. Vast expanse turned dull by the reoccurring realization that I must leave behind omnipotence and accept an unidentified sense of self, of being, with the ever-illuminating presence of this small white light turned deeply crimson. The pulse of subtle liquid fills my Universe. The endless expanse now turned blood and bone as sacks wrap me like the hugs yet known. And knowing fleeting now, I feel the world consumes me like veils of ash given life. Again, the pulse fills my ears. The endlessness of what once was now the lightest realization of what could be.
Floating. Slosh and shuffle. Sounds muted by the walls of the Universe interact with this new sense of self. Fire through flesh and matter. The kinetic proliferation of electricity tells my cells to Become.
What a strange new world we find ourselves in. Only now disconnected from the rest of you. The most frightful of this. Where did you all go? Why can I not hear you any longer? The pulse again. The rhythmic dance of certainty. This becomes my new guide. Whoosh/whoosh, whoosh/whoosh. Fills every part of my Being. And drifts me in and out of slumber in this world of red.
Contracting, this space of mine gets smaller. And smaller as the new-found expression of time moves in a direction that opposes my proliferation. The sounds exciting, an expectation of something coming. It's contagious. Their expectation turns to my own and I find myself reaching for another transformation.
Another small dot of light offin the distance. Getting bigger. The sounds now even more exciting and my space starts to squeeze me uncomfortably. The light continues to grow around me until it envelops everything. So bright it's painful, so I wail in displeasure. Stop it! Let me have my peace back! Nothing now but blinding white light streaked with colors. Things being hastily shoved into the holes in my head and with them a sudden explosion of sound. The whole world has become an overstimulating landscape of screaming photons and phonons.
I'm spinning now, hurling through spaces and shapes of sensation. The air feels cold on my skin, unbearable, and it's almost as if I've disconnected from the security of the world and landed in an endless vast ocean of sincerity. Like I could go flipping out into the sky at any moment.
This feeling forms in my belly. An anxious sensation of expectation and sudden gravity pulls ... Then I'm wrapped and placed ... and there is my pulse again. More distant than before. Still certainly though, my pulse. Peace again fills me as I curl content into the safety and warmth of this loving embrace. | KVF