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Ask,
you will be given
that which you ask for.
Seek,
and
you will
find.
Knock,
and
the door will be
opened.
For
everyone who
asks,
receives.
Anyone who seeks,
finds.
If only you
will knock,
the door
will open.
The Divine Being in every individual, is
revealed
by imaginative vision, not
the corporeal eye.
William
Blake
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 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.
Sadness.
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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