I ask for a “vision” of oneness that I can verbally conceptualize and share with others. A feeling of the universe comes into my mind. It is infinitely filled with many colored planets and stars whose light beckons lovingly. It is awesomely beautiful, everything seems so different and so the same – each so needed to make the others shine so brightly, be as beautiful as they are. And they seemed to have no other purpose save to shine their light and reflect their beauty. There is a sense of both excitement and contentment at the prospect of what was unfolding there. It feels like a kind of “fearless adventure” in loving, a happy and playful exchange of delights. I look for words to better describe this feeling, but none arrive. It is simply a sense of loving and being loved that is so strong it has become a world, a universe for loving.
I wonder where I am in all this. There seems to be a kind of “explosion” and now I am lost in the midst of a collection of unrelated planets and stars; a jumble unidentifiable to what I had seen before. My sense of peace is gone. The joy of loving everything I see has left me. My focus seems to zoom in to a spot somewhere unknown to me; it is isolated and barren. I feel alone. The thought comes: somehow when I projected the, “Where am I” thought, the “I” lost its identity with the universe and became associated with the individual planets which I do not relate to. It is the feeling of what we have defined as “the Big Bang,” splitting the one, whole universe into different galaxies, planets and stars. I feel lost in the confusion this represents.
I remember what I have asked for and mentally review what has transpired. I realize everything that has happened has been in my mind; my choice of how to see what was there. There was no breaking up, only my change of focus, my choice to find a “me” that wasn’t really there. So I said to myself and to the universe, ”This is not what I want. I don’t want to be alone,” and in a virtual blink, the universe I had seen returned and was as beautiful and as loving as it was before. It felt so “right,” so perfectly natural and satisfying. After a bit, I ask: “Why was I able to do all that when I don’t seem able to change what I now see, here, in this world?” The answer: “In this story you knew you were the author.”