Photo by Natalie Rhea Riggs on Unsplash

Recently, as part of trying to figure out what’s going on with me, I had a phone call with a woman named Lisa Cairns in France. Lisa is someone who talks about non-duality. I was saying to her that I had never had an experience like she had in the café in Bali where her contracted sense of separate self seemed to leave her body through her eyes, leaving only everything, everything in all its perfection.

Without even realizing the connection, I started describing something that happened in a therapy session sometime around 2002, sixteen years ago. This was about a year or two after the un-manifest absolute, the wholeness that is everything, had been revealed at the crown of my head, but revealed to no one.

I have no memory of what the therapy session was about, but I do remember the feeling of a giant bubble spontaneously rise up from the base of my spine, all the way up through my body, and exit through the crown of my head. I remember stumbling out of that therapy session and noticing some roses outside. I remember just looking at them in awe, blown away by their beauty and perfection. I found my car and started to drive home, but then I had to pull over and get down on my knees in front of a giant redwood tree. There I sobbed uncontrollably at the beauty and wholeness of everything.

I don’t remember much else from that time. I have a memory of returning to work from therapy and talking in a meeting and noticing that I could see my top lip moving. It seemed like my top lip had a freedom to move in a way that it hadn’t before. I don’t know if that was before or after that particular therapy session.

Even though I never understood what had apparently happened, I’ve never thought of it as anything special. I never thought of it as a “spiritual experience.” I had no support or guidance at the time for what was happening. Seeking help from “spiritual teachers” around that time (about other things) seemed to only result them having strong emotional reactions.

I now suspect that that rising bubble might have been the contracted sense of self leaving, but I have no way of knowing. This morning, I was lying in bed and looking around, wondering where I was located. I noticed that I have no location at all. I’m not inside the body nor outside the body. There is only what seems to be happening; there is no “me” in it. I wondered if it has always been like this. I assume it must have been because there is no way it could be any different. And I have no way of knowing if it was ever any different because time is ungraspable. There is no reference point for space or time. There is only this and it has no context.

For me, as I’m sure it is for everyone, the past is just a vague thought appearing in this infinitely rich aliveness. If the past really happened, which I doubt, it’s impossible to know anything about it now. Apart from being a vague thought, the past is not what’s happening. Any life the past seems to have is only breathed into it by the nature of it appearing as a thought in what seems to be happening. There is no contrast between what is and the past, because the past is just part of what is.

An engineer-psychologist focused on machine intelligence. I write from my own experience to support others in living more fulfilling lives |

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