“You are not a drop in a ocean, you are the entire ocean in a drop.” Rumi
I came walking up the hill to my place, while Steely Dan sang “Rikki Don’t Lose That Number” directly into my head, a hollowed out, bone amplifier, with a body in orgasmic syncopation to the Gods. As if pre-planned with my brain, it felt like such a preamble to what I’ve been thinking about sharing.
I’ve purposely placed the above photograph right in the center of page, because in its own way, it is the story. I usually shove them over to the left, shrinking it dramatically in size and importance. When you have a second, take a good look. You will see pretty much what I did, on the other end of the fishing rod. Grab hold of the rod and get behind my eyes.
I know I’ve mentioned before about my navigating through the world, an endless series of fledgling attempts at overcoming my complete incompetence with most all things physical. I am actually screwed if I am alone, trying to open a childproof cap! I still can’t get the fucken, slimy squid on my hook to even fool the dumbest fish. However, I am as happy as I thought I’d be doing it.
After years and years of sitting on my cushion, I realize how important our instincts are. There is a minuscule, razor-thin moment between awareness and consciousness. I believe you can know things, before you experience them. Sometimes, the gut starts screaming for attention. We spend a lot of time feeling those screams if we are deaf to its message in the first place, because it always shows up at the head of the line.
I purposely tried to take the picture exactly when I did, without dropping the damn fishing gear. Who knows how things happen or why? All of a sudden, I was completely aware of my total presence in that invisible, sliver of a moment. I vividly remember slowly sliding my head to the right, because I’m a righty and it’s automatic. Think about it, righties. My brother is a lefty. I never liked him.
While holding my rod in an awkward grip, I ever so slowly, rolled my view and body, trying to sneak up on my right shoulder. I had an incredibly shocking feeling. All of a sudden, I was a spirit, formless and inseparable from what I was seeing and doing. I was 100% present in that picture, but you couldn’t see me. It didn’t last very long and I didn’t care at all. The job was done with that rush of weightless invisibility.
The riddle of our impermanence has kept me company for many, many years. Our time here is like a visit. The length of our stay is arbitrary and it applies to absolutely everything in the Universe. The more we seek out certainty, the more unsteady our footing. What happens to us at the end of our visit is a timeless dance of the mind.
A story I like to tell myself, which is probably rooted exclusively in my imagination, relates to the Buddha and the after life. Someone with a name I can’t pronounce anyway, asked the big guy if there is life after life and he said, he didn’t know.
Unless you’ve actually croaked, how the fuck could you possibly know? I have thought about this a great deal. Did I say that already? Last time I checked, seriously dead people can’t talk, which is mostly true. I do believe there are special, heavenly beings with very singular connections to certain people, possessing an otherworldly compatibility.
Years ago, I decided to put my faith in the questions, because the really good ones, answer themselves, using a vocabulary with no words. I believe absolutely everything is possible. I am not the guy to judge what works for others.
What I experienced in that picture was one of those answers to a question I’ve never really had the words for, because it is an experience, not an idea.
I’ve never been a fan of coming back as a frog or a reindeer. I am just not sure of the idea of a physical reincarnation, continually returning, until you finally get it right, whatever the fuck ‘right’ means.
I think God deals some of us a special card, determining how we manifest in the next game. I am not even sure you get to earn any points in this one, because it could be random. However, I do think some of us are privileged to live in the magic of the spirit world. I have no idea how you get your ticket punched for that eternal ride. Call me Nietzsche and lets move on.
Really, I have been driving myself nuts for years about dying. I think it sabotaged me in my earlier years. If you think fear of dying and fear of living are anything but an incestuous infatuation with each other, think again. These polar opposites live in the body, freezing it in confusion. I let go many years ago, but I am still right here.
Living in that photograph, I felt this part of me, effortlessly traveling all around, invisible in my thoughts. It was such a thrilling experience. I knew it was definitely me, but I was just spending some time there, soon to disappear, soon to return.
It was a good day in that imaginary moment of truth.