Why You Forget What You Were Doing When You Walk Into A Room


you will be given

that which you ask for.


and you will find.


and the door will be opened.

For everyone who asks,


Anyone who seeks, finds.

If only you will knock,

the door will open.

doors of perception

To see a world in a grain of sand,

and a heaven in a sunflower;

hold infinity in the palm of your hand,

and eternity in an hour.

The Divine Being in every individual, is revealed

by imaginative vision, not the corporeal eye.

William Blake

all seeing reality serpent

At first nothing appeared changed.

I noticed first of all that the rug was no longer flat and lifeless, but had become a field of stirring and undulating hairs, much like the movement of the sea anemone or a field of wheat in the wind.

The doors, walls, and windows were liquefying.

All rigidities disappeared.

I had been plunged to the bottom of the sea, and everything had become undulating and wavering.

The door knobs were no longer door knobs, they melted and undulated like living serpents.

Every object in the room became a living, mobile breathing world.

I walked away, into a hallway opening into several small rooms.

On the way there was a door leading to the garden.

The dazzle of the sun was blinding, every speck of gold multiplied and magnified.

Trees, clouds, lawns heaved and undulated too, the clouds flying at tremendous speed.

The plain door now appeared the most delicate Persian designs, flowers, mandalas, patterns in perfect symmetry.

As I designed them they produced their matching music.

When I drew a long orange line, it emitted its own orange tone.

My body was both swimming and flying.

I felt gay, at ease and playful.

There was perfect connection between my body and everything that was happening.

The colors in the designs gave me pleasure, as well as the music.

The singing of mocking birds was multiplied, and became a whole forest of singing birds.

My senses were multiplied as if I had a hundred eyes, a hundred ears, a hundred fingertips.

The murals which appeared were perfect, they were Oriental, fragile, and complete, but then they became actual Oriental cities, with pagodas, temples, rich Chinese gold and red altars, and Balinese music.

The music vibrated through my body as I were one of the instruments and I felt myself becoming a full percussion orchestra.

The waves of the sounds ran through my hair like a caress.

The music ran down my back and came out of my fingertips.

I was small, light, mobile.

I could dissolve, melt, float, soar.

I was a rainbow cascade of rainfall.

I could use any method of levitation I wished.

Wavelets of light touched the rim of my clothes, phosphorescent radiations.

I could see a new world with my middle eye, a world I had missed before.

I caught images behind images, the walls behind the sky, the sky behind the infinite.

The walls became fountains, the fountains became arches, the domes skies, the sky a flowering carpet, and all dissolved into pure space.

I looked at a slender line curving out into space disappearing into infinity.

I saw a million zeros on this line, curving, shrinking in the distance, and I laughed and said: "Excuse me, I am not a mathematician. How can I measure the infinite?"

Now I was standing on the rim of a planet, alone.

I could hear the fast rushing sound of the planets rotating in space.

I wondered who went before me and whether I would return to Earth.

The solitude distressed me and for the first time, the sense of distance.

I asked Gil very vehemently: "Are you sure that I will find my way back?"

Gil answered reasonably: "Of course, I found my way back. I'm here."

Steve Winwood // Can't Find My Way Home

I Hear You Knocking

I returned to my starting point.

I was standing in front of an ugly door.

As I looked closer it was not plain or green - it was a Buddhist temple, a Hindu column, a Moroccan ceiling, gold spires being formed as if I were watching the hand of a designer at work.

I was designing red spirals which unfurled until they formed a rose window mandala with edges of radium.

An undulating line emitted music in perfect accord with the design.

The designs were preparatory sketches for entire Oriental cities.

I saw the temples of Java, Kashmir, Nepal, Ceylon, Burma, Cambodia, in all the colors of precious stones illumined from within.

Then the outer forms of the temples dissolved to reveal the inner chapels and shrines.

The reds and golds inside the temples vibrated to an intricate musical orchestration of Balinese music.

Two sensations, at once, began to torment me: one that it was happening too quickly and that I would not be able to remember it, another that I would not be able to tell what I saw, it was too elusive and too overwhelming.

The temples grew taller, the music wilder, it became a tidal wave of sounds with gongs and bells predominating.

Gold spires emitted a long flute chant.

Every line and color was constantly breathing and mutating.

Then I began to experience difficulties in breathing.

I felt immensely cold, and very small in my cape, as if I had undergone an Alice in Wonderland metamorphosis.

I remembered the illustration from Saint-Exupery's Little Prince, the child standing all alone on the edge of the planet.

I lay down and covered myself.

I looked at the curtains of the room and they turned to a gauzy gold.

The whole room became filled with gold, as if by a strong sun.

The walls turned to gold, the bedcover was gold, my whole body was becoming gold, liquid gold, scintillating, warm gold.

I was GOLD

It was the most pleasurable sensation I had ever known outside an orgasm.

It was the secret of life, the alchemist's secret of life.

From the feeling of intense cold, as if I were chloroformed, of loss of gravity of the legs, and diminution in size, I passed to the sensation of being gold.

Suddenly I was weeping, weeping.

I could feel the tears and I saw the handkerchief in my hand.

Weeping to the point of dissolution.

Why should I be weeping?

As soon as the concept of absurdity struck me, the comic spirit appeared.

It was another Anaïs, not the one which was lying down weeping, but a small, gay, light Anaïs, very lively, very restless and mobile.

The cosmic spirit of Anaïs became aware.

The cosmic spirit of Anaïs shook herself jauntily and said: "Let's stop this weeping. Everything is more wonderful under water (than in space?). It is alive and it breathes."

Space was lonely, and empty, a vast desert.

After the feeling of GOLD I had a feeling of danger.

My world is so beautiful, so beautiful, but so fragile.

I was pleading for protection of this evanescent beauty.

I thought I was the quickest mind alive and the quickest with words, but words cannot catch up with these transformations, metamorphoses.

The Oriental cities vanished and the infinite appeared again, but now it was bordered on each side by the celestial gardens.

Temptation not to pursue the infinite, but to enjoy the gardens.

Space is definitely without sensuous appeal.

The comic spirit of Anaïs stood aside and laughed at so much Russian-opera extravaganza.

The other Anaïs maintained her pose as a Balinese dancer with legs slightly bent, the tips of the fingers meeting in a symbolic gesture of pleading.

I watched a shoreline of gold waves breaking into solid gold powder and becoming gold foam, and gold hair, shimmering and trembling with gold delights.

I felt I could capture the secret of life because the secret of life was metamorphosis and transmutation, but it happened too quickly and was beyond word.

Cosmic spirit of Anaïs mocks words and herself.

Ah, I cannot capture the secret of life with WORDS.


The secret of life was BREATH.

That was what I always wanted words to do, to BREATHE.

Cosmic spirit of Anaïs rises, shakes herself within her cape, gaily, irresponsibly, surrenders to the mystery of life.

Now I know why fairy tales are full of jewels.

Anaïs Nin

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