Glimpses of All That Is

Posted by on Sep 10, 2018 in Blog | 1 comment

Magnetics, buzzards, owl at alter, key on string of kite

If you tied a key to a kite string and played it into a tribe of magnetics, you wouldn’t get shocked or even a spark, because these were resonances stripped of polarity, they were fields of individual eminences grazing their way across the Nebraska prairie.
They were slivers of earth’s magnetic field chipped away like misty sherds of obsidian in making a tool. Maybe these fragments of earth’s mind had lost the core identity to guide them back to where they came from.

They quarried into intelligences of the life they drifted by, absorbing copies to grid and examine as they moved on. If one swept through you there’d be this déjà vu playing out on the screen of you, as you shifted into becoming people and animals whose awarenesses and memories the magnetics had absorbed, in search of the mother they’d been sheared from.

They took on vestiges of identities they’d never known. They’d been part of a forever living hug embracing the earth they’d splintered away from, and become collections of everything they touched here below.
As they moved through you, your identity was augmented by everything they’d drawn into themselves, so you– as the identity you were most comfortable being– disappeared into the crowd of other identities and memories lifted into themselves.

So for a time the person you thought you were was replaced by an indiscriminate everything. The first time this happened you didn’t know what was happening, but when you sensed or saw them afterward, as vertical shadows drifting your way still looking for their mother, you ran for all you were worth.
You didn’t like not being you, and you especially didn’t like being a two dimensional coyote or beetle, or breeze or cactus memory, and part of their remembered lives. You loved you in here-and-now 3D, this single scrawny, ragged, hairy human with a name that could be written down and read. You didn’t want to be a generic shading of a form of life you didn’t identify with, having impulses and torment that came with being another species, or geological formation, or pool of water. It might be an instant in your time, but during that instant you were living others’ lives from birth onward, from insemination onward, from run-off onward, to that instant of a magnetic touching you, then moving on:

As a pool you were not just hydrogen and oxygen, you were also specific rain drops from specific rainstorms and its run-off, you were fish or bird urine, misted plant breath in a reality that wasn’t aware of anything beyond its shores, yet with everything in it aware of itself and its own beauty and destiny. You would never pee in a pool again anywhere, or see it as disconnected from you as before: It was now at least a distant cousin.