Divesting of the Self
Moving through emptiness
Carried on by the whisper of water
To a dry sea where I fossilize
Leaving others to theorize
Not far off
Twelve thousand miles of waterfall
At the edge of the World
I steer straight for the rainbow
Misting over the bright edge
I see the waters of the Earth
Cascading into the depths
The weight of my boat falls away
Paddling is superfluous
Yet I continue thus
In a now translucent canoe
Bead up on my brow
Leaving it full of holes
Through which Light shines
Like a crown of rays
The roar fades behind
As the canoe slowly fills
My legs disappear
My paddling has no meaning
Invisible and light as air
Carried forward apparently by its own momentum
Into the ever brightening mist
I dissipate into light
As warm and wet as a womb
Penetrated by gentle questions
My self is gradually dissolved
With a sigh I cease to be
And return to being
Everyone must leave the physical existence. I choose to leave by canoe.
Ah, my ball and chain. I love my ball and chain, my body: this thing that has carried me though this journey. It has been my home of flesh, my vehicle and my plaything, and my means of experience. Yet I have waited all my life for this day, and I cannot take it with me. Goodbye, body. I’m not sure whether I’ll miss you or not.
I push off and coast over unseen waters toward the roar of oblivion. Even as I dip my paddle, both paddle and water fade. The illusion is fading. How I loved the illusion! I remember the vivid colors and the wonderful animal sensations in their complete wildness: sight, sound, taste, touch and smell.
I recall the music I made and the music of others ringing in a symphony suddenly harmonic beyond all earthly reckoning, blending into the singular roar of the Universal Self exhaling existence with the sound of all matter and energy, deep and sonorous in everlasting perfection and peace.
As I continue paddling toward the growing white light ahead, I am lightened to the brink of nothingness, my substance little more than the air. The moisture of the birth of all things envelopes me. I am bathed in warm, moist love. With a little last tug of self I relinquish all to love, submerging at last in the vast sea of energy that connects all matter.
There are other voices, all of them mine, yet not. My substance dissolves into their questions, my essence shared to infinity. I quiet the last fearful gasp of ego with a loving caress of goodbye. No longer a self, all experiences are simultaneous, the stories told without endings for they, in fact, do not end. There is neither ending nor beginning unless I imagine it.
And because I am Me, I imagine, and become my imaginings as they manifest and expand outward, searching always and always finding and bringing back to me the myriad variations of the infinite possibilities of space/time, my creation.
When I manifest some version of myself again, let’s have lunch, shall we?
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