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471
Island Passage To October

I stand gazing at the infinite cosmic beach. Universes transform and dissolve at my will, recombining and creating themselves in an effortless dream dance of shifting realities. I am transfixed, yet overwhelmed. I am in awe of the wonder and magic extending from the imagination yet terrified and humbled by the sheer scale. The magnitude of the self extended through dimensional planes intersecting in grids and energy networks, yet it all seemed so familiar. I knew that this was my playground, the perfect toy. Entirely convincing, it extended to every aspect of existence, encompassing every possibility in holographic cosmic smoke mirror illusions. It is each and every one of us, somehow existing simultaneously in all of its manifestations. I knew that I was the adventurer, the gunslinger, the cosmic hero on a mission to my own inevitable end, an inevitable new beginning, winding myself in knots filling every nook and cranny of the universe on the way with counterfeiters, great participants in the cosmic mythology of possibility and endless experience, only to experience the unbearable beatific vision of the universe with all of the veils lifted and feeling it crawling all over itself, over yourself with life and change and complexity all the way up and down. I had walked this walk an infinite number of times before, every dream and fantasy I had ever had had actually taken place in this infinite galactic playground and despite the reality of pain and suffering and death, I realized that there was nothing that this universe could throw at me that I could not handle. I lived in a room with cushioned walls, a self contained universe of incomprehensible mystery, reflecting itself as a gigantic web of jewels and gems in endless variations. The trees, the coasts, the alien moon flower mandelbroccoli, the dance of the waves, all tingled with the ever changing patterns of the self. The fundamental unity of identity between what we commonly misperceive as a self and all of the universe became undeniable, and so did the intergalactic joke we play on ourselves throughout beginningless eternity, a world that tricks us constantly in order so that we will better enjoy our inevitable triumph and return to the source of ourselves and our imagination.
I stumble through stones I set in my own path infinite eons in the past in order so that I can feel the pain and the reality of life and know the humor that shines even in the inevitable decay of the universe and the self, in order that I may learn how to merge with the dust. I lie on the edge of waves dissolving the shore and watch the shore dissolve the waves dissolve the shore dissolving. It is endless connection with no boundaries or distinction. The pleasure and the pain, the good and the evil, the light and the dark, they merge in their dance of relation in the unfolding drama of carnival space operas unfolding into the ancient endless nightfall of diamonds.
The ball of reality feeding on itself changed as the fire grew near, blazing to its full intensity as the eyes of the gypsy girl feeding the energy of the fire did likewise. The flaming orange glow was too much for me for long and I returned to the endless galactic display as the patterns of the trees and stars extended beyond the most distant intergalactic horizons. The water glowed with bio-luminescence, the reactions of billions of invisible micro-organisms and I joined them, losing my shoes for what seemed like the millionth time. It was later that I almost decided to simply become a dolphin or a jellyfish or a sea cucumber and just crawl back into the primordial slime lapping at the edges of our safe and cozy fragile little land world, the island of dreams and destiny with the glowing Mayan citadel of pyramids and minarets in the deepest foggy shadows of the crystal clear liquid horizon.
That night I slept in the muck. This is where I preferred to spend my time, wedged between a couple fallen trees nestled among the cosmic dust on the edge of a shoreline surpassing comprehension in its grand design. I could feel the beetles and other small beings crawling over my skin, yet I resisted the urge to brush them off, trying to truly feel the reality of the cosmic truth I was seeing. It was paradoxes resolved in nonsense, an endless beach, entirely self-contained in every direction, a feedback loop of miniscule vibrations combining to bring about conscious change. The inside out reflector machine revealed its journey to itself, a journey of millions and millions of lifetimes, older than time itself. Time is the illusion! It never has existed except within our own mind. We are trying to fashion some kind of story together and consciousness is learning to assume the controls of the galactic jellyfish. Embark on the dream odyssey. The mothership beckons in the galactic ocean of reflected self. You have no choice. No fear, no ego. Premeditate Awakening. Use Attention to fight wavering of lucidity. Wake up stand up.

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