You know those big binoculars you look through when you're on the top of the
Empire State Building. You put a quarter in and you become part of the
image--part of the scenery--part of nothingness. Air. Everything and
Nothing at the same time. Pure consciousness--almost. It's the 'almost'
part that's the rub. Total flight is impossible, which is the relief and
I look down at my hands but I can't understand what they're doing there. I
don't want to see my hands; I don't want to be reminded of the body that I
can't comfortably occupy.
And the soul is fighting to escape the body--but the body won't let go. It
fights the most desperate fight of its life every time, and I wonder: Am I
the soul or the body right now? Both are losing the battle in that moment.
One day a thought: cosmic meets cosmic. Eternal meets eternal. No more
calculations, but a handing over to only that which is as consuming and
impossibly large as the thought itself, and finally, GRACE.
-- Karen, surviving thirty years with dd.