Written in a Condo in San Jose, California

My day to day experience is so far outside of the realm of what I ever imagined that my capacity, ability to find the words to describe it no longer exists. The words feel mere abstractions of a reality that is so painful, so exquisite as to defy what it means to be human. Perhaps this is the point?

It is becoming increasingly difficult to move from the ecstatic realms to the mortal plane and the will to do so is waning. I am seized by sensual, undulating waves that begin in my belly and move through the center of my being – my body and my soul. The movement comes in swirls, whorls and zigzags of ascending energy, taking me higher and higher until I touch the Divine, at which time the walls of my being liquefy and I become nothing but simple awareness.

Just when I think I can take no more, when the shudders and sobs grip me and I am begging for mercy, I will begin choking, gagging as the energy moves through and up me, compressing my vertebrae and sinew – I can hear sounds as it moves through me. Sometimes I am terrified. Last night I begged for death so that I could be reborn; asked that I be taken wholly and without reservation from this mortal plane, breathless as I was.

Sometimes I feel as if I have awakened into a different reality wherein the objects around me are familiar but I am not, nor is the stuff of which the universe is made. I find myself wondering if this is a dream – it all feels so impossible, so improbable, otherworldly. Nothing is familiar beyond the surface of what I see, not what I feel or taste. I saw that I will not be given me more than I can bear, and what I can bear surprises me still.

There is longing for a new and more precise vocabulary to explain and put words/voice to the experiences I am having. The dictionaries show the opposite of ecstasy to be misery; but, in my experience, I feel its opposite to be “doubt,” or perhaps even more accurately a “crisis of faith.” This does not appear in anything I have read but while in a state of ecstasy or rapture, there is no doubt – there is only communion and beatitude, exaltation. But there is often terror and pain as well, a movement toward heaven that is at once welcome and terrifying.

I am so small, so insignificant. How could I be worthy of such a state? How can I bear such longing, such aching in the depths of my being, my soul – a depth to which I have hitherto been a stranger, and which is so vast, so consuming as to be nullifying. In this state I confess to the error of my ways, beg for salvation and communion. I become ardently devoted, aching to manifest this love I feel through a life that mirrors divine Love, mercy and compassion. Everything else vanishes – there is just the viscosity of awareness in which I swim, undulating currents and waves of ecstatic pleasure void of doubt, void of me. In this state I am incapable of doubt and words finally fail me. Not even my supplication can be expressed.

I must simply be, awash in the Glorious.

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