She opened her eyes and then, somewhere inside, opened her eyes again.
She heard grass growing, and the sound of the worms beneath the turf.
She could feel the thousands of little lives around her, smell all the scents on the breeze, and see all the shades of the night.
The wheels of stars and years, of space and time, locked into place.
She knew exactly where she was, and who she was, and what she was.
...
I’ll never be like this again, she thought...I’ll never again feel as tall as the sky and as old as the hills and as strong as the sea. I’ve been given something for a while, and the price of it is that I have to give it back.
And the reward is giving it back, too. No human could live like this. You could spend a day looking at a flower to see how wonderful it is, and that wouldn’t get the milking done.
-Terry Pratchett, Wee Free Men
Have you ever had a moment where it felt like the veil fell away completely?
Once I was overcome by a feeling of love and joy so profound that I stood naked in my kitchen and cried. It lasted several minutes, but as it started to fade, I clung to it, as if I had been in a dream and was trying to will myself to remain.
But it wasn’t a dream, it was a moment of being wide awake, and, like the character in the novel above, I couldn’t remain in that space and still get the dishes done.
It is tempting to chase this feeling; there are whole industries and even communities centered around inducing these feelings with chemicals or practices.
Once, in meditation, I had the thought to open sacred space around my meditation in the tradition of the Q’ero shamans who trained me in their practices. In my mind, I honored the four directions and the sacred animals, and the earth, the sun, the moon and the sea. Then something...slipped.
Jaguar appeared to me, and he was looking over his shoulder and inviting me to follow him into the jungle. We weren't on a trail; it was his own trail. We got to a clearing, and in the clearing was an ancient temple, buried in the jungle. Jaguar jumped up over the door and lay down, and I knew I was supposed to enter the temple.
I walked into the dark door and I could smell the old stone and the underground coolness. There was a long stone stair and I was descending. Torches started appearing on the walls on either side. I was frightened. At the bottom of the stair there was a chamber, and I could tell it was a chamber of sacrifice.
I felt like I was in multiple time planes at once; there was a priest performing a sacrifice and also no one there. In the middle of the room was a stone slab altar and it was covered with dried blood, and there was a smell of blood, but it was very old, and I knew I was supposed to lie down on it.
I became aware that the sacred animals had come into the room. There was a giant python encircling the altar, the jaguar was pacing, the hummingbird was fluttering. Suddenly there was water all around the room; the altar was an island. Then I had visions of moving backwards through geologic time, great cataclysms, earthquakes, tectonic plates shifting, volcanoes erupting, tremendous thunderstorms; eons passed in moments.
I was transported to Middle Earth in the first age, saw the origin and the flight of the elves, the island of Valimar, the rise and fall of the men of Westernesse, the Sundering Seas. In a great whirling vortex, all of these images and ages swirled up and then down directly into the middle of my chest, into my heart.
It all flowed into me in this rushing, overwhelming funnel of all Time.
Then the waters subsided, and the room was dark and still again, and I got up off the table. The floor was wet. I walked up the ladder, past the torches, and when I came out the jaguar was there. He led me out of the jungle. He left me at the edge of a great river and there was a small boat that I paddled across to the other side.
Jaguar chose to initiate me into his realm, a place of viscera and vision. And just as with the moment in the kitchen, it was a place I couldn’t stay.
Living and healing are full of fits and starts. While I follow sacred paths, I stay in the profane space of the material, where there is pain, where there is loss, where there is suffering. I want to get the dishes done. To live on air would be to leave this body behind, and forfeit the gift of heat and cold, discomfort and challenge. The testing and tempering are the birthright that we share.
When you see a glimpse of light, or feel a breath of wind, that you know is a Truth beyond all truths, be glad of it, but don’t cling to it. Be joyful in its presence and grieve, if you need, in its absence, but remember that you know it forever.
This is the epiphany that offers itself to our eyes, even when we are blinded by pain. And blinded we will be, at times, and rightly so, because the pain we feel is the portal to our transformation. If we are too comfortable, we do not enter in.
The water is not always fine. At first. But like Douglas Adams’ puddle, delighted that there is a depression in the pavement perfectly designed for it, you will be engulfed and held in a crucible made exclusively for you. And then you will be more than you were.
I opened my eyes, and then opened them again, and then allowed them to close, when the light had passed like headlights on the bedroom wall.
Will you open your eyes?
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Yes, I will open my eyes..and your essay has inspired me to do so :)
I knew this would be good when you opened with a quote from Terry.