(I) In Low-Earth Orbit — Re-entry

It woke me early today. Not to put too fine a point on it but, it woke in me. Early. About 5:41 AM. It might even be that my angel determined to arouse me early — yes, it cannot be discounted so superficially, this possibility. For the angel would know, is in a position to know, that my nightly renewal was completed well enough. And the moment is perhaps propitious, this day, these days or weeks, this advent of autumnal deepening of the earthly soul while the earthly skin has begun to once more degrade. A moment propitious for receiving a new, deeper personal revelation. An opening. An opportunity. Maybe an offering. But also a choosing, if I be willing to participate with effort. It is the angel, of course, who would know this. The one who has seen my previous unremembered biographies, who knows so intimately my blockages and potentials. The one whose sacred resolve it has forever been, to accompany until such guidance is no longer necessary. Bound to me, even in my incipient state of being, and sworn to carry messages in two directions, between the higher orchestrators, and my only partly conscious receptivity. Sworn you are, to suffer me, until I can free you of your duties, in some hope-filled future. I salute your sacrifice, even in the midsts of my inadequacy. I strive to subtract all vanity from my hope someday that we become comrades, allies, co-adventurers in free dedication…

(II) Adorned by the Earth As Garment

I am inhabiting this organism now… and lately it is increasingly apparent these are two very different items: my body, and me. I go to the easy chair slanted towards the window, where pale grey transparent curtains shield me from the speaking solar brilliance. I lug my body along also — we are stuck with each other, you could say. But it is still early, and the raiment very light, still unconfining, something I’ve not quite yet fully indwelt. Barely hindered, I look to the incoming rays which show as reds and miracle pinks beyond the distant hills swaddled in darkness. I look to them for any communiqué, holding myself open, expectant, and simple.

Not yet having evaporated the memory of my transitional dreams, I am granted this:

Your immediate pre-waking dream life is experienced by you as a chaotic cloud. Events and persons mingle without logic, interchange, and morph. Situations convey some dire specific circumstance one instant, then meld into something unrelated without conflict the next. Time moves with its own will, untamed by yours. See this truth now and over the next few mornings of waking to your daily sensory life. See it and know two things about it. The first thing is that this dream life chaos, though usual for most humans now in bodies, is not normal; the cognition you present to your life during sleep can be enhanced such that your inner eyes wake a second time and see the realm how it actually is. The chaos and broken continuity and arbitrary logic is because of you. You cannot perceive past the fog of your own horizon. It is the fault of your own choosings in biographical sum which baffles your perceiving into illusion. You must work to disperse these vaporous veils of confusion, that your ‘I’ governs your ‘eye’ and pierces truth like a sunray. The second thing will assist you in this, and serve as motivator, as will-food. You are the chaos cloud you glimpse in your dream life. The cloud is you. Every one of your desires, the feelings which normally color your soul, those things which have arbitrarily attracted you and repulsed you throughout waking life — all this has formed, forms and accretes your consciousness cloud which consumes the vast majority of thoughts you experience in your quotidian mind. Your dream life merely curates from this vast pool in diconnected imagery to depict your actual state. The chaos is your mirror. Because your will is somewhat engaged in your waking life, and involves itself in steering your senses threough what you encounter each day, you expereience the sensation, the illusion, of an orderly sequential flow of impressions. But the chaotic nature revealed in dream imagery is a picture, an experience, of the real soul cloud your carry. which you inhabit and which inhabits you. It forms the artificial boundary of what you can perceive of spiritual reality. To go beyond this means to go beyond your ordinary self. Your egoity. Then you will see and know more. To bypass your egoity is love. Interest, selflessly, in what is ‘other’. In this way, you come to realize that Love itself is a form of cognition. It is the key to participation in the broader reality. Love is at once a spiritual practice and a consciousness freeing gateway. Amen.

_______RS

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