Reverse Gestation and Tales from Before

By Dnoll

From glittering abandon, I seem to have been thrust into containment, confinement… condensed into something unreal, something beyond my comprehension. I wait. I look about me… and I wait. Time is still with me, but I seem to be able to feel it now. I wait and I feel. I look about me and I feel. Now I can hear too. A whisper is forming at the tip of my lobe. I can just make it out; it tickles… I giggle. I wait, I look about me, I feel, and now I giggle. The whisper is Truth. It is the truth that I knew of while floating in the space before, while gliding through glittering abandon. The truth feels different now. It feels slow, as it seeps into this place that… I am calling me. I call 'it' me... this place. The whisper is reaching out to me, getting stronger now. I think that I recognize the voice behind it. It is strong and quiet. It is patient. I wait, I look, I feel, I hear, I giggle. I realize when I hear the whisper that I am not real. I realize that I was real before, in the glittering abandon place, but that this 'me' is where I need to build the me 'there.' As I wait, it floods into the place that I now call me. The memory of 'there' warms me. Now I think… Now I remember…

There is appearing an urgency to the sound of the whisper. It is not louder, just easier to understand. My thinking is now becoming stronger. My memory is growing. I remember more and more, as the whisper increases in its ability to communicate. The warmth from the knowledge is now seeping into the rest of me. I have more. There 'is' more. I can think. I can learn. I can be in 'this' me. I am getting bigger. The truth is growing within me and I can see it now. Truth. I am a paradox and I am One. Truth is the paradox of separate cells, separate entities, but all One. Truth is the paradox. Life was false, but now it is truth. Life is the paradox. Life exists beyond the 'now' me. Life is also un-life... Life is also death…

The whisper is getting louder. I am running out of time. The whisper is telling me everything, but that I will have to learn it all again… later. I remember. I remember it all, as the synopses in my mind begin to swell, to spread out into the me that supports my mind. My muscles and my bones are moving. I kick! I think… I kick! Secrets of me are everywhere. I sense. I just know. I kick! The whisper is a voice. I know the voice and I know what it is telling me. I know that I knew it all before, but that now I need to fill 'this' me with its truth. This me is still empty. This me needs to grow. But, I plead with the familiar voice, "Why must I forget again… why?" The voice doesn't say… The voice is silent…

I think. I feel. That is all I do. The truth is big and I see it disappearing into a puff of vapor in front of me. I am afraid. I kick! I am afraid. The voice begins again. It is even stronger now. It reverberates across the paradox of 'me.' I reverberate with it. I understand now. The filling of the cells of this me is crucial to my ability to become the real me… later. What is later? What is going to happen to me… which me… who am I? I kick! I am afraid. The voice is soothing; it is strong, but soothing. I am still me. I know what I am to do. I know what I will fulfill. I know who I will be with! I know it all! I kick!! I look up at the place where the voice emanates from. It is fuzzy, it is dark, but it is still there and I can see it. I look deeper into the murk, into the depth. It is there. It is Truth. I am calm and I peer into its depths. I see the paradox and it is One. I see the Universe and the reason for everything. I understand… I am One…

I kick! The finger descends slowly. I watch it in slow motion… with an acid trail stretching out behind. I watch it as if it were not me looking out of my eyes. The finger descends faster now. It speeds up and I can hear it whoosh past the words from its owner's voice. I know it is time to forget, but I don't care. I kick! But I am too late. I don't want to forget, but I know that I must, if only to be me, the real me. The finger descends. It reaches out to me, gently, and I flinch. My eyes clench and I feel a sharp pain. I am surprised. I am shocked. I kick! The light is intense, but that is not what I care about. The pain is intense, but that is not what I care about. The loss of 'everything' that I learned is heart-rending, but not what I care about. What I care about is… what I care about is… what I care about is the air, breathing, breath. What I care about is the truth as it assimilates into 'me.' I breathe in through my nose. I smell… What I care about is the smell of it all… It is, I realize now, in the end of the beginning, the smell of truth within the paradox of living that I really care about. I kick!

Shabbat Shalom!

Popular posts from this blog

Raining Frogs, Mini Earth, and the Downhill Sesh

By Dnoll
Image
And the storm raged on… here in the Holy Land recently, lasting for about 3 days and flattening anything that was mildly at rust or untended, trees, buildings, signs, and cliff faces collapsed or just plain disappeared. Flash flood warnings in the Negev desert were in high effect and we all buttoned up our houses with whatever we had on tap. The fires that had just swept through the north were still smoldering and the ash of the ruin of many people’s entire lives hadn’t even begun to settle; all of this, and yet... we were happy —  the rain was finally coming. The crispy ground covering the Holy Land has been parched for years from a severe draught. The Kinneret (Sea of Galilee), where much of our water comes from, has been going down, down, down, and is in its 7th year of decent; it is now 85 cm. above the ‘black line,’ the line that we dread. The black line is below the lowest ‘red line,’ which we passed a while ago. Sinking below the black line means that we will not only n...
Read more

From Pickles to Bubble Gum

By
Image
  I fell for it again today, the inevitable trap set for unwary teachers at the high school where I’m ever so slowly becoming an educator, and along the way developing some great relationships with the next generation of young Israeli leaders. This year had been a tough one, having met with my students for only a short period of time before we left for the holidays, and subsequently unable to return. By the end of Sukkot, we had all wrapped up a wonderful holiday season with family and friends, eaten and drunken far too much, and were ready for one more day of rest before the start of the real teaching season began, Sunday morning, October 8. Then, school was cancelled. It was far too dangerous, you see, to send kids out into our world. It was far too horrible to even comprehend what had happened. Each of us went into reaction mode, protecting our families, our neighborhoods, ourselves and each other, listening for the latest news, preparing for the worst, both mentally and physica...
Read more

Gan Eden

By
Image
We don’t exist in one time, we exist in all the times. Branching occurs naturally and we ride them all, encompassing each moment. We must only become aware of the path to arrive at perfection.  
Read more

Am Israel Khai / עם ישראל חי

By
Image
  My Dad - He was the tallest man I knew of, not only physically, but mentally and spiritually. It wasn’t always very easy to talk with him, but when we did, and when I needed him, he was there for me completely, without any hesitation. He loved the garden, loved his wife, loved his children, and he loved his work. He was an urban planner that conceptualized a perfect society and implemented his and other’s ideas to build environments to sustain a perfect population of residents. And it worked, right up until the time when his job ended, 10 years before his forced retirement … due to corporate takeover. The American dream, of building from scratch a perfect world, a society that worked together for the needs of all its members, became sullied. Fear of not having enough and greed began to shake my father’s foundation of hard work and faith. My father grew up in a working class family, his birth father having left him and his mother when my father was only five years old. His stepf...
Read more

Praying towards the West

By
Image
Living on the edge between land and sea, in the State of California in the USA, was all I had ever known when I met my Basherit, the love of my life. We met for the first time in the doorway to our future home, the sun directly behind me as the portal opened to reveal the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. My head began to bobble, I noticed, unconsciously as if I were from far away, in the east, in India. The shadow I had cast allowed her to see me without squinting in the low-lying sun, as it made its way across our bright blue sky. She bobbled her head in return, saying later that the peculiar action was to maintain the effect of a halo around my head. But, we both understand only now that it was actually to preserve the vision of another world. Unknown to either of us at the time, we stood at the entrance to a portal, one which offered us a vision into the world to come. Living in the West, both of the continental United States and in the greater world, we had been raised stric...
Read more

Choosing Your Lot

By
Image
  Purim, Oct. 7, and Our Next Generation  -   I grew up in a world where I could be anything I wanted, back in Southern California, in the 70s and 80s. I had the freedom to explore what life might offer, and my parents encouraged me to play and to learn. I needed a foundation and chores, mind you, but a musical instrument was essential to grow up in the human world. I was encouraged to dress for success, too. My parents tried anything they could to give me the tools they thought I would need in life. I liked art, they noticed, so my parents introduced me to a commercial artist to learn the ropes. After a year of piano lessons with Mr. Stytska playing “On Top of Spaghetti,” I quit. From a lack of social graces, I was forced to dance with a broom at cotillion (etiquette classes for middle-school aged children), so I quit. I had my own plans, you see, which needed forming ASAP if I was to prove my worthiness to my own ego first, then others around me, and only then to...
Read more

The Voice from In-between

By Dnoll
Image
The Collector Crazy… I am really feeling the time warp these days… I can’t believe it took me 6 years to get back to me, to my roots, to the ‘reason’ I now find myself in the Middle East. Yes, it is all connected. You see, when I was young, I realized that I was meant to explore the inner-space that rides the waves caused by physical space. It’s a kind of spiritual plain of existence that most just shrug-off as metaphysics or some such nonsense.  Haw… even I do it sometimes; you know, when reality just cakes up around the edges of your vision to the point that you just give in to the momentum of it all…? Crazy… Wow… I am in an art exhibition. I have never pushed the whole art front too much, always finding other ways to make a living; hence my endeavors with woodworking, writing, marcom & web design, and other assorted handyman-type sidetracks... To be honest with myself, I always wanted to move to New York, live in a loft, and paint while high on whatever drug sui...
Read more

Seed

By
Image
There’s a knowing left under the world that reminds me of me. I think it sometimes, this knowing, but it leaves soon thereafter, spitting nonsense into my memory of it being. The life it left always tilts my reservoir of love but never touches my lips up, never begs to begin. I sing, I dance, slamming it out unseen, but always tasting the wishing in which it began ~ image:  Etrog in Space, 10-2016  
Read more

Paper Plane

By
Image
The glee in her eyes told the story from the beginning to its end. Well, except the part where we all jumped into the air screaming… My young student stood at the back corner of the room, eyebrows pursed in concentration. She inched her way forward, begging my attention, with a paper plane she had folded; also begging… So, I agreed. She could throw it in one direction only, towards the garbage can in the opposite corner. She grinned before our lesson, and I knew she would try it. I breathed in as it flew, around one student, then another. It arced to and fro, ascending then dropping down, but (no way) just enough. Then it swooped up, stalled, and came down … exactly into the corner alcove… It landed perfectly into the trashcan that I had asked for, a hole in one. We all screamed as we jumped from our seats, TWO POINTS! And then our lesson began.
Read more

Conical Time

By
Image
The dirt at my feet swirled as I drove my favorite matchbox-car through it. My lap was open with my legs encompassing the hole I’d dug. I was living, and couldn’t stop. I had to do a number two, but shifted my heel to plug the eruption from ever occurring… ever. My lap and the hole I’d dug begged my attention with every moment occurring, and I drove and dug and drove again as my life unfolded. I was living, and the world around me sped forward, but never even registered into the realm I inhabited. I had stopped, and I was living. My friends went to accost pedophiles in the park, and I went along. We were in high school, young and tender beings. We wanted to live, we wanted something to happen. My Italian friend’s little brother did the deed, plunging into deep cover, sitting wantonly on a bench. We were all developed, being California surfers, so it was easy to see how perverts could bridge between ‘adult’ and a mere child. I watched as the mark put his arm around the kid, whispering s...
Read more