I'll write as it is. Had written it in my drawing book. Backwards.
April 17, 2017. afternoon. Machu Picchu.
Hmmmm...I'm sitting in front of M-P as I had called it. Some Spanish music in the background (Sarah's playing). They are lying down. I'm sitting on grass. Just drew. Lunch was very tasty. Nature all around. A bee buzzes every now and then. It was hot - now slightly cooler.
I want to say. The walk here - the penultimate part was intense. I couldn't believe I was so close. Like seeing the mountains from amidst the trees, bushes sometimes like just a glimpse. It was a jungle. Only quiet jungle sounds - crickets, wind or breeze, bees buzzing...It was lush green. With ferns. With moss. All over trees. I hugged a smallish tree. My heart area touched the trunk. My cheeks touched.
It wasn't very different from hugging another human being. I can't exactly tell why. It was life. It brought about the same feeling within. It was curly-soft-green. The trunk, the tree felt real. Like a person, living thing. I can't even call anything a thing. And then it happened...
I might've hugged again...it happened. I removed my shoes and socks at one point. The earth felt cool. Intense. Drew me into it. My feet would sink in the mud. The mud clasped my feet. Softly. It was then I think it happened. I became completely one. With everything. I lost a sense of space and time. Even an ant carrying a green little food - I just became one. I paused and took deep breathes.
Saw my body - observed within. It was so clear. Every part. Slight back I would feel. But that was different - more physical, visceral. I merged.
A flood of memories came. Most intense ones. I cried. I cried and cried. It just felt so clean. So empty. There was really no me. I just became one. Most intense life experiences, memories, people flashed by. And then I'd kept going. The soil - cool earth holding me, my feet. How do I even describe that? I had no questions. Just an overwhelming feeling of thankfulness.
Thankfulness to whom, to what. I don't know. Means I know but it's not of the world's realm. It's almost like when something blends into water - not like salt or sugar but more like glass. What if you dip a piece of see-through clear glass into water that's flowing. Are you the glass? Are you the water? It is different. But also one. When you see it. The memories, the life, the viscera remind you of the distinction between the glass and water. And then again, in between those moments it becomes one. It's all the same.
There's a one-ness. At one point, I weeped a lot. There was something I had done - something subtle where I hurt Nature. The smallest of things that our memory carries as these burdens of life. You become so, so soft. How could I think of anything or anyone in Nature as any different from me. The people who love me, whom I love. Who've come along, been there with me. Once when I closed my eyes. I went back. Nana, mummy, grandparents - amma, bava. Bava's parents. My brother. My son. My loves. The loss. Everything became one - in a flood. May be, this is what you finally experience before the body sees its soul, the soul leaves the body. Almost every single person - everything. Not just one person. But the whole - many, many, many things that build up a single moment.
Nothing matters. The earthly things seen on another realm. I thought what Ayahuasca might mean. How it might've felt for an Andean to walk on this same soil. Who am I? What is life? Is there time? Does it matter? Am I different from the ant? Isn't there life in the soil that I walk on? That's carrying me. What is there to love? Or not love? How can I have a distinct emotion when I'm already part of it? I became very, very soft.
Why do most intense experiences memories stand out? When A was born? The spots of blood on his scrotum. That's what I had seen first. The lung (?). The depth. When S was young. The early, early days - the feeling of it. The parents who came before me - who brought me here. The gift they gave me of life.
The ancient Andeans believed procreation was central to how life happens. The heaven. The earth. The dead. When you love, when you merge - the heaven merges with the earth through rain. Therefore sex becomes the means to connect. To give a continuum across time, across space. That's what creates life across all creation. That's why it's one of the most intense experiences. That's why it gives the bliss, the pain. It causes wars. It's connected to desire.
Daniel Kahnmann had said we remember the peak experiences and the end. That's true for all of life. When we pass on, we remember the peaks - the intense moments. And then we know what's happening around. And then we pass on. Actually there's nothing to pass onto. We just merge.
It's not a sad or even a mildly sad emotion. The total other end. It's a flood of completeness. You merge. When you become one. What is there to think or feel?
[there's a drawing of fluid space all around, arrows show up, down, right, left]
How could you feel sad or angry or anything? Guruji always says what's your relationship with yourself? That's your relationship with your Guru. But it's for all. You look at people, at life, all - with a certain thankfulness - it's all there - everything - to bring you to this point. Actually, it's not bring you because that signifies a linear movement of time. But there's no time. How can there be time? In the whole.
How do I put it? Like say there's a space. Yes you can measure the distance between two points in that larger space. You could even more from one point to the other. But how does it matter? You are within the space. How can one point judge the other point? Isn't it all pointless? Ha!
On an earthly level. I thought of B. Why didn't he come? He could've. It's so easy in a certain way. Like that I thought of different things.
When I finally reached the campsite. My shoes tied together over my shoulders. Bag behind. Feet. Me. I simply walked all the way to the very end.
I saw the expanse of the mountains. The range. The Andean range. Then I finally knew I was there with people. I had smiled and waved. But I was still within.
I finally came back. I took pictures. Selfie-even. :-)
Then later. Much later. Middle of lunch, thanks to Joyce I realized I was looking at and walked up to Machu Picchu all along (when I reached the very end). Once I saw the ruins, it just stayed. I saw Wayna Picchu, the ruins or their construction or what the Incas built - along the ridge line. Then to the right of it is Machu Picchu. A mountain amongst many in the sacred Andes.
April 17, 2017. afternoon. Machu Picchu.
Hmmmm...I'm sitting in front of M-P as I had called it. Some Spanish music in the background (Sarah's playing). They are lying down. I'm sitting on grass. Just drew. Lunch was very tasty. Nature all around. A bee buzzes every now and then. It was hot - now slightly cooler.
I want to say. The walk here - the penultimate part was intense. I couldn't believe I was so close. Like seeing the mountains from amidst the trees, bushes sometimes like just a glimpse. It was a jungle. Only quiet jungle sounds - crickets, wind or breeze, bees buzzing...It was lush green. With ferns. With moss. All over trees. I hugged a smallish tree. My heart area touched the trunk. My cheeks touched.
It wasn't very different from hugging another human being. I can't exactly tell why. It was life. It brought about the same feeling within. It was curly-soft-green. The trunk, the tree felt real. Like a person, living thing. I can't even call anything a thing. And then it happened...
I might've hugged again...it happened. I removed my shoes and socks at one point. The earth felt cool. Intense. Drew me into it. My feet would sink in the mud. The mud clasped my feet. Softly. It was then I think it happened. I became completely one. With everything. I lost a sense of space and time. Even an ant carrying a green little food - I just became one. I paused and took deep breathes.
Saw my body - observed within. It was so clear. Every part. Slight back I would feel. But that was different - more physical, visceral. I merged.
A flood of memories came. Most intense ones. I cried. I cried and cried. It just felt so clean. So empty. There was really no me. I just became one. Most intense life experiences, memories, people flashed by. And then I'd kept going. The soil - cool earth holding me, my feet. How do I even describe that? I had no questions. Just an overwhelming feeling of thankfulness.
Thankfulness to whom, to what. I don't know. Means I know but it's not of the world's realm. It's almost like when something blends into water - not like salt or sugar but more like glass. What if you dip a piece of see-through clear glass into water that's flowing. Are you the glass? Are you the water? It is different. But also one. When you see it. The memories, the life, the viscera remind you of the distinction between the glass and water. And then again, in between those moments it becomes one. It's all the same.
There's a one-ness. At one point, I weeped a lot. There was something I had done - something subtle where I hurt Nature. The smallest of things that our memory carries as these burdens of life. You become so, so soft. How could I think of anything or anyone in Nature as any different from me. The people who love me, whom I love. Who've come along, been there with me. Once when I closed my eyes. I went back. Nana, mummy, grandparents - amma, bava. Bava's parents. My brother. My son. My loves. The loss. Everything became one - in a flood. May be, this is what you finally experience before the body sees its soul, the soul leaves the body. Almost every single person - everything. Not just one person. But the whole - many, many, many things that build up a single moment.
Nothing matters. The earthly things seen on another realm. I thought what Ayahuasca might mean. How it might've felt for an Andean to walk on this same soil. Who am I? What is life? Is there time? Does it matter? Am I different from the ant? Isn't there life in the soil that I walk on? That's carrying me. What is there to love? Or not love? How can I have a distinct emotion when I'm already part of it? I became very, very soft.
Why do most intense experiences memories stand out? When A was born? The spots of blood on his scrotum. That's what I had seen first. The lung (?). The depth. When S was young. The early, early days - the feeling of it. The parents who came before me - who brought me here. The gift they gave me of life.
The ancient Andeans believed procreation was central to how life happens. The heaven. The earth. The dead. When you love, when you merge - the heaven merges with the earth through rain. Therefore sex becomes the means to connect. To give a continuum across time, across space. That's what creates life across all creation. That's why it's one of the most intense experiences. That's why it gives the bliss, the pain. It causes wars. It's connected to desire.
Daniel Kahnmann had said we remember the peak experiences and the end. That's true for all of life. When we pass on, we remember the peaks - the intense moments. And then we know what's happening around. And then we pass on. Actually there's nothing to pass onto. We just merge.
It's not a sad or even a mildly sad emotion. The total other end. It's a flood of completeness. You merge. When you become one. What is there to think or feel?
[there's a drawing of fluid space all around, arrows show up, down, right, left]
How could you feel sad or angry or anything? Guruji always says what's your relationship with yourself? That's your relationship with your Guru. But it's for all. You look at people, at life, all - with a certain thankfulness - it's all there - everything - to bring you to this point. Actually, it's not bring you because that signifies a linear movement of time. But there's no time. How can there be time? In the whole.
How do I put it? Like say there's a space. Yes you can measure the distance between two points in that larger space. You could even more from one point to the other. But how does it matter? You are within the space. How can one point judge the other point? Isn't it all pointless? Ha!
On an earthly level. I thought of B. Why didn't he come? He could've. It's so easy in a certain way. Like that I thought of different things.
When I finally reached the campsite. My shoes tied together over my shoulders. Bag behind. Feet. Me. I simply walked all the way to the very end.
I saw the expanse of the mountains. The range. The Andean range. Then I finally knew I was there with people. I had smiled and waved. But I was still within.
I finally came back. I took pictures. Selfie-even. :-)
Then later. Much later. Middle of lunch, thanks to Joyce I realized I was looking at and walked up to Machu Picchu all along (when I reached the very end). Once I saw the ruins, it just stayed. I saw Wayna Picchu, the ruins or their construction or what the Incas built - along the ridge line. Then to the right of it is Machu Picchu. A mountain amongst many in the sacred Andes.
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