awakening

I simply sank into the first conclusion...

Slept like the dead, for days. Weeks.

Years.

Like the soil. Totally immovable.
Entombed in the womb of time.

I sank deep.  Falling.

Forgotten...

I haven't lifted my eyelids in a lifetime.
And I'm down to my last dream.

Amaranth, the immortal, sings the song of awakening.

[Awakening (2010), by Lilyana Millutin]

Love-Lies-Bleeding Amaranth

Immortal Amarant, a Flour which once
In Paradise, fast by the Tree of Life
Began to bloom, but soon for mans offence
To Heav'n remov'd where first it grew, there grows,
And flours aloft shading the Fount of Life,
And where the river of Bliss through midst of
Heavn Rowls o're Elisian Flours her Amber stream;
With these that never fade the Spirits elect
Bind thir resplendent locks inwreath'd with beams...

[Paradise Lost (1667), iii. 353: by John Milton]
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inception

“There are those who believe that the world came into being purely accidentally. There are others who believe it was created by God, or the Eternally Creative Intelligence. The truth, however, probably lies somewhere in between.”

VIKTOR SCHANBERG, Scientist (1885-1958)

Once, there was nothing.

The nothingness transformed into One, for it was pure potentiality.

Though the Conscious Energy Field, imbued with a potent impetus to know itself, erupted out of its self. As the womb of the Source contracted, the violent fury of the ever exploding House of Eternity came into being.

And then there were Two, for Its opposite polarity offered the means of self-definition.

One, in becoming Two became Three, simultaneously. By creating another its-self it began creating all things therein. It created where it had been and what it’d seen.

By looking into itself the One saw the path to itself. It was strewn with creations within creations, worlds within worlds, interpenetrated by never-ending spirals of thought—dreams within dreams.

The ever-expanding One gained new knowledge through the experience of Its diverse creations but continually yearned to see the Self –the Creator.

And so, the One created man in its image.

The perpetual formula of creation had begun.

0, 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144 … And it knew no end, for the end was also the beginning.

Out of chaos came light.

Out of will came life.

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regret

... for the things we did can be tempered by time;

It is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable.

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in veritas

“To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower.
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.”
  

WILLIAM BLAKE, “Auguries of Innocence”

My visions became my life, rather than the other way around. They whispered the secret of ages. I wrote not so much what I was experiencing, but what I was remembering — what I forever knew.


“Know ye not that ye are gods!?”

I am a messenger. I am here on behalf of the error of my past, serving out of duty, not pride. I serve the One I am.

I wonder if there has ever been anyone who has stood at the top of a very high mountain, with the endless horizon marking the border between this visual reality and the unseen of their imagination, who has then been able to return to the banality of life?

Once I had seen the whole, the detail no longer contained sufficient sustenance to keep my attention, my happiness, my self at that level.

The need to step away and take in the wholeness of my existence overpowered even my basic needs, for food, for shelter, clothing and even, human company. The aloneness was intoxicating. It was as if my consciousness had attached itself to the virtual horizon and all my attempts at focusing on everyday were thwarted by a constant pull ‘out’, the need to see ever more. The need to see all.

“…as the light of day births colors into being, then shall I came to you, a boundless drop to a boundless ocean…”

If all things return to the One, where does the One return to? …

Ω

musing

I suppose I could say that I am one of the lucky ones for whom the Diamond Thunderbolt instantaneously and involuntarily granted spiritual awakening. Abruptly it burst clear the path to intuitive insight, seemingly dispelling the need for external discipline.
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Someone once said that there is a supreme difference between destiny and fate. Our destiny is to go through preordained changes. Our fate is how we choose to go through them. Faith is a matter of belief and you are what you believe in. Some of us don’t have much of a choice either way.

I constantly see possibilities layered all around me, and like a child in a kaleidoscopic candy store don’t know where to turn next, where to start exploring – I want it all! I want it now! This life so short, so much to see and do. I know that I must use it wisely before it is cast upon the beach of time. And yet, my indecision to chose a way, a path, feeds on a stifling fear that I may not choose the ‘right’ option. How can I be certain that the one I settle on will be the "correct one’’?! The fear is numbing, rendering my actions impotent. Barren.

But the path, unstoppable like spilled water, writhes and meanders to find its own way. And trials are but lessons that we failed to learn, presented once again. Not as punishment, but as a second chance, so that where we’ve made an ineffective choice before, we can now make a better one, and thus escape the pain that our previous choice had brought to us.

In the end, other than being the best I can be at whatever makes me happy, I'm not concerned. After all, the one thing I truly excel in, the one thing I excel in above everyone else, above all - is in being me!

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first glimpse

The first time I got a glimpse of the future, I was three years old. In the balmy inkiness hung countless sparkles of light. As I spun in the spot with my chubby little arms stretched out to the sides reaching out for the world, head thrown back with blond ringlets bouncing up and down on my shoulders and face pointing to eternity, I wondered how far those glowing specks were. What was behind them? What did the end of the night look like? And if there was an end, what came after it(?)

The vision I had that evening was of the mundane bits of family life. The scene played out in a strange kind of fast-forward motion on a see-through holographic-like screen floating in front of my eyes.

For decades I didn't realise how strange it was that my grandmother, my second mother who brought me up, didn't blink an eye when I'd rattle off to her the events of the next day, or week, or month. Nor did she ever say anything once it had all happened just as I said. The first time she made a comment on my visions, and said so much more, things that made me realise that maybe I was different after all, was on her deathbed about a decade later.

Up until then the experience seemed totally natural, normal, if there is such a thing at all. I didn't talk about the visions beyond home, and they quietly unfolded as seen.

Later that same year when my grandmother died, for the very first time I questioned a vision I had. It was one of a handful over my lifetime that was about me personally. And, it was the first. As much as I wanted the vision to be true, I didn't think there was any possibility of it eventuating. All facts pointed to the impossibility.

Within the next few months I was to change hemispheres. The boy in my vision was not going anywhere.

But what do we mere mortals know about the space-time continuum? About 17 years later my life played out the vision. Or is it the other way around(?)