Panic

It was then, during his evening meditation, that something gave within.

It was as if he had been standing on a glass floor all along, and now, that glass floor cracked, and collapsed. His very consciousness lurched downwards, and dissolved. His sense of self, momentarily, snapped out of existence.

It snapped back just as quick, but something had definitively changed, and what had changed changed everything else.

John looking around the room, as a infant might, trying to locate some peculiar sound it had just heard. He looked around, and looked within, gauging, tasting, touching. "The hell?" he thought, a single drop of liquid surreal slowly diffusing itself into every crevice of his mind, turning everything transparent. He didn't like it, this... was it even a feeling, a sensation? No, it was an absence he was aware of, but an absence of what. His eyes widened at the thought - his self ...

"Gone," he whispered, "it's gone." Speaking, he immediately noticed how dry his throat was, and indeed, how dark his room had become. He suddenly wondered how long he had been meditating for, and, taking up his mobile phone, he looked at the LCD screen. The time read 03:00, but beneath it "42 messages," blinked silently, and suddenly, he felt queasy. He looked at the date, noticing at the same time how light and empty his body felt.

"My God," he muttered hearing voice and thought as distinct streams of sound, feeling the sensation of confusion bubble up and fade in the front of his cranium, seeing the date on his phone making a sizzling sensation on his eyes. It sunk in - he'd been meditating for two weeks...

And he was acutely aware of everything. The carpet fairly burst with static details, popping and fizzing. He could hear disembodied thinking in his mind, a thousand voices with a thousand emotional hues. Aborted, half formed words, barely sounds, bubbled and burst in the mind. Even his consciousness seemed to flicker rapidly in and out of existence. And the sense of silence, and space was awesome. And, yes, there was no self there. His self was gone. There was just... just... just...

He felt the muscles in his gut clench slightly, and realised his digestion was starting up again. He couldn't feel his legs. Despite the panic going on in a one part of his mind, he felt totally calm, observant, detached... untouched. He looked at those legs beneath him, knowing they were merely muscle, blood vessels, nerve endings, bones and marrow, fatty tissue. They weren’t his legs. They were just legs. Without his mind, he knew, these legs weren't even matter, for he could see now how mind and matter related. He saw clearly mind-body interdependence, and also, yes, for sure he could see a gap. And as he approached that gap, once more, everything blinked out ... and blinked back again. He tried again, and yes, once more, everything blinked out ... and blinked back again. A third time, he tried it for a little longer, though time was absent while reality was gone .... and it blinked back, feeling as if he had been gone longer. A forth time he tried for even longer ... and suddenly it was morning.

Bliss then suffused his mind and body, as he realised what it all meant...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The End

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