Purgation
It was approximately 6.45 p.m. when a friend
called me on the telephone to enquire if I would like to go over to his place
for a few games of chess. I explained to him that I was babysitting as my wife
had just gone out for the evening with friends and would not be back until
quite late. I was just on the verge of inviting him over to my place when,
without thinking, I said that I would give it a miss tonight and simply have a
bath and an early night. I did not know why I had said that, for I do not
usually talk without thinking as to what I am going to say. I did quite fancy
the idea of a few games of chess and rarely ever turned down the opportunity.
Nevertheless, having said it I let it ride.
The two youngsters were tucked up for the
night and the paraphernalia of childhood joy was tidied up as I sat down at
about 7 p.m. I had just placed a couple of large logs on the fire and put a
record on the machine at random with the intent of a few minutes peace and
quiet before going up for a bath. If I had known in advance as to what was
going to transpire over the course of the next three hours I would have
employed a babysitter and a witness as to my own physical condition for the
duration of that period of time.
Thus it was that at approximately 7 p.m. on a
late winter/early spring evening I, a mere ignoramus of twenty four years of
age, sat down for a few minutes to read the paper and listen to a record prior
to having a bath and an early night. Just as I sat down in the chair in front of the fire our old cat jumped up on to my
lap. It took me by surprise for I had not seen it coming and thus the thought
of leaning over for the newspaper went right out of my mind. I made a fuss of
the cat as it rolled over into the well of my lap with its legs pointing skyward.
As I stroked its belly it gave out a purr that was almost as loud as a car
engine revving, and fit to rock the chair we were sitting in. I smiled and
wondered how they did it, and why. I continued to make a fuss of the cat
without any further thought of reading the paper. In so doing I suddenly became
aware of the record which I had put on simply for background music.
It turned out to be the last part of the
Enigma Variations which was to be followed later by the Fantasia on a theme of
Thomas Tallis by Vaughan Williams (how ironic are
those two titles; fantasia and enigma indeed). At that time neither of those
pieces were favourites of mine, it just happened to be the record I pulled out.
The music began to sound like nothing I had ever heard before or since. It was
as though the music was trying to make me aware of IT. It permeated my
consciousness in ways that words cannot describe. I had a fleeting thought; one
of those unsolicited ‘pop in’ thoughts which said “sod the paper, listen to the
music old son”; and I thought, “Yeah... this is good”! In today’s language I
suppose we would say that the music was reaching parts that no other Largo
could get to. I had always loved music, music of all kinds, for it all had its
time, place, and mood; but this was more than mere music, more than mere
sound. I relaxed back into the rocking chair with the cat still purring away
like a traction engine on my lap, although the sound was becoming drowned into
the distance by the beauty of the music, when suddenly, something very strange
occurred; and the beginning of I knew not what.
Instead of relaxing it was as though my
concentration was becoming focused, so sharp; like a narrow beam of pointed
conscious awareness focusing and concentrating like I had never done before;
even in the midst of chess problems during a good game, and that alone is
concentration enough, but this was more so. The music had reached a degree of
profound beauty which I had never known or thought could have existed. In so
attaining I somehow relaxed into it, a kind of letting go of objective
observation. I gave a kind of unusual sigh and an outward exhalation of breath
like a long AHH; and just as I did so—everything vanished,
instantaneously, just like creation being switched off by the throw of a
switch. There was no room, no cat, no sound of the fire burning or the clock
ticking; no cats purring, no chair, no body, no weight, no mass, no heat or
cold, no gravity, no up or down or this way or that way; there was just total
blackness and the sound of the music which was passing through my consciousness
in waves. This is not a poetic description of my listening to the music, it is
literal.
At the very instant of ‘going’ it was
as though my ears had been turned inside out; for at one instant the music was
objective, on the outside, and the next instant it was taking place ‘all
around’, for there was no inside and outside as such. Nevertheless it was as
though the music was passing through the point (which I was) like waves on a
pond and each wave was of greater emotional charge than the one before it; as
though each wave was preparing me for the next wave, and building up into...
into I did not know what. In some respects it was like being kidnapped by
divine music, perfection; the only thing that existed in creation was myself and the music.
It was as though the ‘AHH’ was still
going on but going on in the vastness of the space of the mind alone. It became
a reality in which there was no dualistic reference between myself and music,
but as though there was only ‘I AM the music’ in a dance, a swoon, of
excitement, awe, and wonder. After an immeasurable duration of time that piece
of music ended, and there was a stillness and quiet as cannot be described. I
did not question (at that point) that I had no body or existence other than
awareness of being. Neither would I have had the time to think of such things
for the next piece of music began. To say that the next piece of music began is
the understatement of all time. It did not begin, it flowed. It flowed out of
nothingness, like... like I know not what.
Within a few seconds of the music emanating
into my consciousness there came the most frightening
experience I have ever known in my life, before or since. The passion and
beauty of the sounds were such that my mind went... bang! I blew up, fell
apart, exploded, or so it seemed. As I did so I could see, I had vision, I was
no longer in total blackness listening to the music for I could see myself
exploding and expanding. It seemed to be like the big bang itself. I could
still hear the music, and it was just as well that I could for my mind clung to
the sound to try and quell the fear and panic which was taking place. I could
see what can only be described as streaked out dots of light which I was expanding
into and flying through like a supernova. It was like I did not even have time
to be frightened, even though I was. I was somehow trying to turn the eyes
which I had away from the rushing lights and the vision of this expansion and
concentrate upon the music. But those eyes (heaven only knows as to with what
one could see—but see one could) were eyes that we cannot open or close by our
own volition; one could not switch the vision or the experience off. Just as I
thought I was going to expand into infinity and fade away into nothingness the
expansion stopped. My mind gradually stopped expanding and I metaphorically
gave a sigh of relief; but there was no breath or lungs with which to do it. At
that point it was as if I were in a kind of unbounded dome of blackness, and I
consisted of nothing except a point of consciousness with no boundary or
duration, no form; just consciousness. I could see what appeared to be tiny
points of light coming into and out of existence all over the space which I
existed within. Much like the vision one would get with ones eyes nearly closed
while seeing sunlight spots dancing on the surface of a fast flowing river. It
was like creation ‘stuff’ coming and going all the time. Throughout all
this I could still hear the music. Then, the next shock to my system, if a
system I had. The dots of light that seemed to be coming into and out of
existence as far as one could see suddenly turned into the music which I could
hear, and I could not only hear the music but now also see it.
There are no words to describe such music
made of light. It is a vision which unlike other vision cannot be recreated by
imagination within the mind from hindsight; it can only be seen and known at
the time of the event. I saw the music flowing toward me. It was in colours
such that we know and some that we do not know. The essential quality of the
light was equal to that of the sound of the music. The light itself and the
colours were not different things as we tend to know coloured light by
reflections or as sources of light emanating from a certain point. The music
was the light, the colour was the light. It did not flow from anything except
uncreated into created. The fear that I had experienced throughout the
expansion or whatever it was had now gone and there was nothing but I and the
music which I was now within: I became the music; there was not an I and an it. As this event continued I became aware that I ‘KNEW’
the music. That is to say that I knew it backwards, forwards, inside out, one
note at a time or all at once; and I could see it anyway I wanted to see it. I
could become the melody, which I did; I could become the harmony, which I did.
I could be one note or the whole piece of the music. Reality is stranger than
fiction; and a damn sight better.
Whilst this divine dance of music in unison
was going on I become aware that I was of two natures somehow enshrined in one.
There came a point whilst I was swimming in this light and music when I became
aware that I was looking at myself objectively, and it did not seem strange at
the time. ‘Myself’ did not consist of a body but only of light, but I
knew it was me, and I thought, “The little one is having the time of his life”,
(which indeed he was), but the other me, or the me of the personality, did not
know this was going on; only the other bit knew that. Likewise were all these
things not being thought about as we do out here in the world of temporal
forms, but somehow they were just known, and seen, and felt, and enjoyed. (Many years later I came to call this level of
visions by the name of ARKON IMAGE EMANATIONS.) I became aware at that point
that there were two aspects of myself. One which I refer to as the person and
one which I refer to as the personality; the latter of which is an extension
and emanation of the former and thus a perceived duality, albeit a oneness in
the structure of an inter-dimensional vortex of self existence. I cannot refer
to two ‘I’s thus I will use the terms person and
personality for simplicity. It is not so much a case of two aspects of
consciousness but more the case of what part of the vortex of emanation the
consciousness is existing within at that instant. One
cannot observe from both points of reference at the same instant however, it is
either one or the other. And it even gets far more complex. But let us proceed
in the order of the unfolding events.
At this point, and even though one was aware
of what was going on at the time, one was not ‘bothered about it’ so to speak,
for I was only really concerned about the love of the reality itself, the
music, the sound, the vision, the event itself, for it was indeed a divine
dance of the spheres. It was passion and reality unimaginable; creation par
excellence, by magic. The shift from one point of consciousness to the other is
not an act of wilful intent on my (the personalities) part; it simply occurred
as far as I was aware. As to how long this music and light experience lasted is
impossible to say, for although it was a temporal process it was a kind of
temporality other than is known in ‘normal’ or everyday awareness in temporal
forms. Likewise the visions and objects of vision (the Arkons)
were not thought of as extant things existing in their own right such as a tree
or a mountain, for it was known and understood to be being created at the time
and only for its duration and effect.
There came a point however when things
changed. I suddenly had an entirely different vision. It was just at the point
when I knew the music was going away, ending. My perspective of vision was such
that I could see a being, a young boy of about twelve years of age if
appearances were anything to go by. He was illuminated in a brilliance of light
and colour, as the music had been, and existing in otherwise total darkness,
but lighting that darkness up around him like an aura.
He was sitting on his bum (with nothing underneath him) with one arm wrapped
around his knees which were folded up to his chin, and waving goodbye to the
music with the other hand. It was not a vision of any boy or person I had ever
seen or known but I knew that I had to take the vision as myself, yet not the
self of the personality which I knew to be me. Indeed it was the old me which
was doing the observing and learning. Such archetypal visions are a kind of
learning without any words, and which are not reasoned or rationalised and yet
they are understood implicitly and without thinking about them; the experience
is the thing itself and the knowledge and understanding is implicit and
axiomatic; thus it is a dialogue without dialogue, and synetic
in its nature. Hence, archetypal ‘Synetic Dialogue’.
I could see the boy waving goodbye to the
music and I could see the music fading away into a distance and into nothingness;
being uncreated just as easily as it had been created. I also implicitly knew
as to what was going on inside him and as to how he felt. He did not want
anything; he did not fear the music leaving him, for he loved it—and that was
sufficient. I cannot find the words to describe the passion and feelings which
that child knew and felt; but he was perfect; and an act which I knew that I
could not follow. As the music went further away the sound of it also
diminished. It eventually faded away into nothingness and the boy was alone in
his own radiance in otherwise total blackness and nothingness. Then the vision
disappeared, and there was nothing. I was alone with my boring old self, and
once again able to think and rationalise in the usual manner and seemingly in
the usual time span of thinking. Yet I was alone in a darkness in which I had
no form other than conscious awareness. I realised that any perception or
illusion of ‘otherness’, or another part of myself, was gone and I was
alone with my normal personality of the outside world. Yet the world was gone,
everything was gone except my self consciousness and its memories. What on
earth, (or elsewhere), is going on; how and why? From hindsight one would
assume that in such a situation one would be terrified, for it was like being
buried alive (a good analogy); however, the thought of the music which had
preceded this situation must have taken the fear away, even though I felt a
feeling of great apprehension and a degree of worry. Is one going to be stranded
here for all time maybe? Is this death? Or am I still sitting in the chair with
my mind having slipped out of joint somehow? Have I gone insane? The thoughts
that pass though ones mind are at times uncontrollable, and in this situation
one does not know what to think. Surely if I just sit quiet (as if I could do
anything other) and hang about something will happen;
something must happen; I can’t just hang about here for ever; wherever
‘here’ is. Perhaps someone will come into the room soon and realise that my
mind has got stuck inside and cart me off to a place to get it out again.
It was however, the first chance I had to
think about what the hell was going on; one minute I am sitting in the chair
minding my own business and the next minute... zap, and the world has
disappeared, or I from it—which is it? I knew for sure that I wanted out from
whatever I was in but there was nothing I could do about it at all; for I had
no control of anything. Just at that point however, and before I had the chance
to get really fed up, something did happen. I was just thinking how nice it
would be to go into the kitchen and get a beer or a cup of coffee when
something came. I could not see what it was for it was still total darkness but
I could somehow feel the presence of something I knew not what... Then I heard
a voice! To say that one heard a voice is not true in the sense that one
normally hears a voice in objective terms across a distance, but it was indeed
very much like it and also sounded within my mind or consciousness somehow. As
though the point of origin was somehow objective yet from a location from
deeper down within myself somehow. Thus
objective inwards not outwards, from ‘below’ as opposed to ‘around’
me. Something said, or gave me the understanding by way of perceiving a
voice...
“Do you want to go on?”
I cannot describe how I felt about that.
Nothing would actually shock me (I think) after what had transpired since the
world had disappeared. Yet this ‘request’ was experienced as totally objective;
it was not me that was asking the question; it was something else. I was too
stunned to even think about the meaning of the question yet alone as to where
it came from; for something, even an odd sounding voice, was better than
nothing at all, if indeed it was a voice.
Without thinking I inwardly yelled out (for
the lack of putting it into other words, and more in panic); “Go on what?” “Go
on further”, came the reply or understanding. I was
amazed at the logic and reasoning, but I wanted nothing else other than
normality to be re-established. I was just about to reply (for if you can’t
beat it join it), “No thanks. I have had a wonderful time thank you very much,
but I think it’s about time that I was getting back to normality right now if its all the same to you.” (You might as well go out laughing
I thought.) As I was about to respond however, I was suddenly washed, bathed,
drowned in a passion, a love, a swoon of ecstasy; in which I responded in a way
which was a kind of choice which was no choice; an offer one cannot refuse.
(And not the kind of bath I had intended.) I replied to whatever, or wherever,
the question emanated from... “OK, let’s do it, lets
go on further!” I did not even know what the question meant yet alone as to
from whence it came.
The next thing I was aware of was that the
profound overwhelming emotion had gone and I was then alone again—but something
was different—stone me, my mind is BENT... out of shape, distorting! I was now
experiencing not ‘nothing’ but decidedly being inside
of something—inside my own mind which was being squeezed out of shape. Why is
my mind not round? The things one thinks at such time. It was as if I could see
the edges of my own mind in a fuzzy darkness, with my consciousness being like
a point at its centre. My mind was being squeezed out of shape, or so it
seemed. It was narrower at one point than at the other; a bit like a pear. I
underwent an experience of being squeezed and I did not like it one bit. I
became very anxious; or near on panic is more like it. I had a distinct urge to
try and punch a hole in my collapsing mind in order that I could get out,
escape, before being squashed along with it. I yelled out.... “Oy, there’s some sod out there pulling my mind around and I
cannot stop it.” I felt real panic coming on fast. The restricting became
worse. “If you don’t pack it in I am going to be squashed inside it... sod
off!” I was about to hurl other choice obscenities when all of a sudden I heard
the voice again....
“Relax, take it smoothly!”
I was just about to reply “bugger off” when I suddenly started moving. “Relax, he says... stone me... I’m moving... the whole bloody shebang is sliding away and with me inside it!” “Good grief almighty what the hell is happening!” “Relax, everything is as it should be, keep calm and relax!” “Relax, he says, who’s driving this thing anyway... how do I know its passed its bloody driving test? And where is it going anyway... go on tell me that?” “Keep quiet, shut up and relax!” With that command, or suggestion, I was stunned to the core;... “Oh yes, relax... OK, I’ll relax!” Bloody liar I thought to myself, who the hell could relax in a situation like this... this is too ridiculous for words or thought... yet alone happening! The moving began to judder; we were up against something of a resistance (me I guess)... “Relax!” “I am relaxing!” (Why can’t I be unconscious or dead or something!) I tried hard to think on good things as one does in the dentist chair while under diabolical pain; although there was no pain here, only fear. Make out nothing’s happening I thought to myself. The juddering felt like whatever was clogging the works was fighting a losing battle in some inevitable way. There was a huge tug—then a release. I zoomed off like a bullet from a gun; into, or out of what I knew not.
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