As I sat, I remembered their being something referred to as an “insertion point” in several science fiction movies. Something which when touched or activated sent you into a whole different area of the cosmos. I could relate that to what I’ve read about going from concentration to samadhi. And as I related in my previous post, I somehow felt that this point I was concentrating on was portentous.
As I sat there I reflected, “Why do I have to wait until this door is opened for me? Why not just open it myself?” Which is what I did.
When I opened the door, the universe stretched out before me. The vast space, the planets, the sun. I entered that space like the baby in the womb at the end of 2001 (again my unborn Buddha mind). I must say it seems a bit odd or embarrassing to relate how I found spiritual meaning in these mass media entertainments, but I believe they did have a spiritual component in the minds of their creators.
In any event, I felt myself floating around the universe and when I saw Earth, I went down to it. My disembodied unborn Buddha mind went from place to place, each time observing the people there, low and high, and I felt very deeply the oneness of all beings. And further, the oneness of all things.
Whether sentient or not, we are all built from the same atomic building blocks. We all came, regardless how circuitous the route, from the same source. That although all things are differentiated by their form and that what was once one human, or a band of humans, is now billions of people of many different races speaking hundreds of different languages, and within each with various stratifications of social standing, we are still all one. Spiritually, of course, there is the oneness of universal suffering.
Once again I sat and sat, oblivious to my legs which had fallen asleep. I did not want to leave this space. I did not want my meditation to end. I was in a state of blissful peace. I have not been in such a state of feeling at one with all things since the end of my at-home retreat many years ago when I wrote the following poem.
Who am I?
I am the tree I see,
The flower that blooms,
The morning rain,
And the cold night air.
I am the bird in flight,
The wounded bear,
The howling wolf,
And the dog lying before the fire.
I am the laughing child,
The old lady begging,
The dope addict,
And the forgetful old man.
I am all things,
And I am nothing
But I also felt something more. Like I had a calling. That my purpose in life of offering joy to others had taken on an added aspect, in that one way I can offer joy is to, as the St. Francis prayer goes, bring harmony where there is discord, to help people see that we are all one, that there is no self and other. I will not go searching for this opportunity, but when it presents itself I will do my best to heal the breach and end the suffering caused by it.