The sky is high and clear, looking splendidly unreal this morning with its perfectly formed bright white clouds -- puf, puf, puf -- floating along like chu-chu cars clipped from a children's book and pasted upon this expanse of crystal blue.

Closer to the earth the atmosphere hangs calm yet charged -- portent with life striving to transcend the divide between earth and heaven. In fact the heavens today do not appear either distant or otherworldly, but more like a pleasantly amorphous point between here and more here. The heavens also suggest a delight in the unknowing of it all, a hypersensitive chaotic order, a playful catch-as-you-can puzzle-making… --

Then the base elements in this speedily revolving sky seem to hold still and act almost human – self-conscious, predictable, mortal -- for just the briefest of moments. Ignored for eons as they went about their daily business, today the elementals react to attention given them by millions of earthlings gazing skyward during this exotic astronomical convergence of planets, stars and moons. The heavens seem to prim vainly and heave rapturous: a pause is felt in the usual madcap rotation of the earth. In the brief quiet respite from spin, a nonverbal message transmits that inspires millions of happy-face smiles: it jostles like a tickle, this visceral coaxing of earthlings to stop taking themselves so serious; to delight more in the mystery and wonder of Life; and to relax and be more joyful and harmonious.

Boom! A bright light peels forth from the sun in that micro-second cosmic pause, as though from the sun reflecting upon itself. The heavens blaze and the earth-boat rocks giddily...

Flower petals wiggle and stretch skyward, insects stop bothering them and just watch, and the remains of a heap of decomposed twigs in a place where a young woman died nearly two decades earlier moves up slightly as though from a breath within it.

The flash of brightness frames the remains of a crash that ended the young girl's physical life: the bowed bottom of an oak that stopped growing, left sappy, spore-covered, brown and stunted. And directly behind it, a crumbling brick wall covered in moss and ivy -- the camouflage that sealed their fate.

In the middle of this nook that is left just as it was, there’s a bridal of dead flowers in a sign of the cross, marking the spot where the young woman breathed her last breath. Beyond that, most of the wild overgrowth that had been here two decades ago has been trimmed down, pruned, manicured and landscaped. It now marks a clear footpath to the VARIGOD CENTER FOR YOGA AND HEALTH.

As the moment of stillness abates and movement returns to the universe -- reluctantly, disappointingly -- like someone breaking back into a long-held habit after a too-short respite, a moment of eerie darkness follows the unreal brightness. Flowers droop, insects scamper into the earth and the earth itself appears as though it might just cease to exist, again. The lovely charade of Life over?

No. The darkness lasts even shorter than the brightness. Then everything seems back to normal. Though for millions of earthlings -- many of whom are desperate for a redirection, forlorn, crazy, depressed and Ur-compassionate – they wholeheartedly pray not.

Earth lurches back into its heavy familiar groove and a shock is felt. Tremors rock below the earth-surface, tides rise up as high as mountains, the mean kill and shy love. Mystics feel revived and favored. Die-hard revolutionaries everywhere feel the time has finally come. Evangelists call out for the Second Coming, and U.F.O spotters spot them everywhere. Scientists scoff. And hippies and Mayans smoke grass and wake up naked together praying to the Sun from real- and designer-hilltops throughout the Americas.

Exactly twenty years hence the 1967 Summer of Love, it's the Summer of Magick. The destined timeline for moving out of a grid of Materialism, Aggression, Possession...The Wheel, Tools, Iron, Steel, Flight, Fight, War, Slavery, The Time Clock, Money, Banks, Wealth and Poverty...

Now What?

As though in answer, or at least consideration of the question, a warm wind laden with more years of life and memory than can be measured, blows across the surface of the earth. When it wafts over the place where the remains of the young woman had been memorialized, something, lighter than air, and invisible, lifts up.

One could almost hear this invisible entity, in harmony with the earth, moan ‘Ahhhh!’

After eighteen years of being settled fetal-like in warm wet compost, this entity’s transport begins awkwardly. It latches onto a gold and scarlet leaf blowing in the wind. Together they lift up under a breeze and the entity becomes aware again of space and dimension. It also senses itself moving away from something familiar nearby, something missing from it. There is no sense of who or what that might be, though it can feel somehow the memory of others who also died in the crash here. The leaf stops, spins and tremors in place.

But the entity feels as though to let these familiar things rest as they are, and draw themselves out in their own time. Plus, it doesn't seem to have the power to will or personalize or direct her actions -- or just barely so. As the leaf draws forward and up again her lighter-than-air self feels powerfully drawn in two directions: one is straight up, into a pupil of golden light bigger and brighter than any sun; and the other is to go back to earth, to the lanes of flowers and trees that appear like minute effusions of colored pinpoints. With the power of something resembling will, though much less malleable, she chooses earth and the choice itself re-directs the leaf downward.

It's a rootless, gravity-less, uncontrollable and thrilling movement.

The patterns of trees and flowers and dark space between them provide a direction, a grounding, a path. And she feels herself being drawn again to something personal and familiar; though this time it is not to something or someone at rest or traumatized. This something familiar feels very alive and near. Her self?

Who knows?

As she continues in the direction of this feeling, it seems to respond and pull her towards it.

She saunters through the dark cool spaces between trees and flowers until she comes upon something running the length of her open path, blocking it. As she approaches, lettering on it, even though she can’t read it, makes the posits of human history and memory left in her recoil and shake violently. This banner that reads: THERE IS ONLY ONE PATH

She tumbles forward spinning under the banner and is pushed further along toward a second similar block in the path. Though this one has a different effect on her. The pull of this one is like a narcotic, or death -- to just stay and rest and enjoy this feeling forever. This second and final banner that reads: THE PATH OF LOVE

The feeling she gets is similar to the one trying to pull her up into the golden pool of light, and for a moment she is held tenuously once again between heaven and earth -- rest and solace; curiosity and activity. Though the loving pull toward earth is even stronger. She whisks forward in a streak of golden scarlet.

She glides down the remainder of the path to an opening, a large expanse of soft feelings and colors, and a large body of vibrant, deep blue undulations of light.

She feels the enlivening sensations of water and earth and air, and wishes desperately for a moment that she had the corporeal attributes to touch and smell and enjoy them again.

On a spread of open expanse below there is a shimmering of familiar patterns of energy. These are individual objects in motion, beings like her with awareness and perception, though they are all grounded in bodies. There are many of them spread out over a large area, and a group huddled together near the front moving very quickly and energetically, producing vibrations and sensations that rise up in silvery sensations. It makes her feel and remember dance and song. The individual forms move in similar flowing motions. As she hovers over she notices that they respond to her presence: move more energetically and try to pull her down into them -- that's how it feels. It's a trance of energy, becoming more and more powerful and directed as it becomes one massive flow. Then it suddenly releases its attention from her and directs it at one individual at the place where the sensations of music and song are coming from.

This individual has a more intense and concentrated energy field surrounding it. It resonates a sound similar to the background noise she noted as soon as she let up from the earth. As it makes this sound the others join in.

The sound and its introverting effect on the others nearly separates her from them; she feels herself once again being pushed away from the heavy gross earth and toward a lighter and more primal environ. She resists, feeling the residues of what would have been a rebel smirk if she still had a face to contort one with.

This makes her feel an even stronger and personal affinity toward something different here, the familiar that drew her here to begin with. She stops trying to resist the conforming energies and just lets herself glide until she finds herself hovering over one who is not moving with the flow: its movements more kinetic, personal, individual. Hot and sassy, like hers, or Zip’s?

Zip – her beautiful Puerto Rican lover boy who fathered her only child who she last saw at the crash. But she can't see or move down to touch it, to know.

Zip!? She tries to scream out.

The familiar below responds to her vibration and it starts to move more radically and passionately, drawing her to a fixed spot directly over its. She feels its attention focused directly on her. She can feel a personal longing from it toward her. She is something missing from it.

And even though she no longer has a body and sexual organs she somehow has the memory of passion and feels that; a desire to make this attraction personal; to burn with it in a way she can almost but not quite feel. And, oh, she longs for it. She feels herself burning with heat, but instead of an accompanying burning in the loins the energy just moves through her and out toward the form below. She feels the energy below respond to that -- its movements get even more active and stronger.

It must be Zip!

The Energy Maestro at the front of the throng seems to also note her presence, and welcomes her. His awareness and attention is less abstracted and impersonal than the others. He doesn't seem as awed or surprised by the out-of-body presence. Then all the others around, acutely tuned into him, also send up welcoming sounds and vibrations to her again, though the effect on her is to make her feel like they are trying to either suck her down into themselves or catapult her up to heaven.

It's confusing and she's losing track of Zip, or whoever it is...

Leave me the fuck alone! she tries to screams out at them in whatever way she can.

The Maestro seems to hear her, or catch her vibration, and cools them down with the deep sound of his voice. She feels relieved and can once again start to feel the one very familiar being among the many. Though the act of dispelling their unwanted attention has taken a lot out of her and she senses now that there's a finite reservoir of energy left to resist the pull upward.

She focuses completely on the familiar being who is still right below her, moving in its own appealing way, with a sense of rhythm different from the rest. And in his longing for her, ignoring the Maestro and the others.

Yes! She swears that she can almost feel herself blush and smile proud.

She holds still in that moment, remembering human sexual pleasure and passion. As the energy draws her more and more near to itself she feels herself want to love it in a human way

But if that’s my Zip than who are all these others, these clones – he wouldn’t hang out with …--

In that startling moment of clear cognition she recognizes that it’s her baby, though no longer a baby. And that the other beings surrounding him are the members of the community she left him with right before she experienced physical mortality. She cringes, stopping the vital feelings from building. She feels human shame and guilt cool off her burning feelings. The Maestro, hyper-sensitive to such feelings, reacts by beaming forth a very powerful protective energy around his throng, and especially her baby.

She feels hurt and rejected by it at first, but then recognizes that it’s a loving paternal form of protection.

Relieved, she lets go and feels herself only hanging on tenuously to the earth’s physical and emotional gravity.

As quickly and forcibly as she can she tries to send her baby a big wallop of maternal love and all the advice she can muster in short order: Be yourself always; and get away from here and find out who you really are! She feels released now like from a slingshot and without reaction or regret she surrenders to the pull and is swept up and away on a wave of intense bliss, up into a golden spot in the pupil of the sky, to the place of pure rest.