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
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
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...
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!’
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
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?
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
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,
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
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.
swears that she can almost feel herself blush and
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
Relieved, she lets go and feels herself only
hanging on tenuously to the earth’s physical and
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.