I simply was. To speculate on posture, shape or form, would reveal nothing. I can only repeat that.....I was. There was a plenitude about my being that spoke of development, that a process of becoming was already under way, but beyond that I knew nothing. I could only observe my surroundings. I felt nothing; I thought nothing. Any conclusions that surfaced in the place in which I had my being did not appear to come from me, but appeared like a scene that I observed.
My place of being was in the Darkness, a state that exhibited a brilliance that gave my surroundings a form of filamented clarity. Nothing hid itself in this Darkness, yet there appeared to be nothing that sought to hide. And the Darkness was vast beyond my imagining. Maybe I should have felt fear, but that had passed and I could no longer know what there might be of which to be afraid.
I was stationary, unable to move, even perhaps disinclined to move if I could have felt inclinations. Yet I was not imprisoned. Rather, it was as if I had been placed - beyond the rim of logic, reason and rationality - in some non-existent place or unattainable state where some indefinable purpose was to be worked out. The only faculty remaining was some intuitive sense that revealed itself as observations, both seemingly visual and also as conclusions.
What would have been on my left side in the material world I 'saw', without seeing, a strange artificial light. It shone beyond a symbolic veil of biological strings and filaments, cells loosely linked, and an aura of impenetrability. Thus I did see the light but without it being able to enter into the Darkness. Only in that one direction was there even a semblance of light, tawdrily artificial as it was, for elsewhere was only the brilliance of the Darkness. If I could have felt anything I might have associated my positioned being with that of a primal cell placed on the wall of a uterine cosmos. But that hardly begins to describe my state. What I did realise, or observe, was that I had been stripped of everything that related to my ego, all of which lay bathed in its own light beyond the symbolic veil.
What then could I be, this sense of beingness hanging in the Darkness? It came to me that within, but far beyond, my ego lived the Child. This state in which I found myself was not of the squalling, squarking, biochemical machine ejected protestingly into the realm of materiality, with all its innocence, naivety and vulnerability. This state was of an entirely different order, a state of unknowing knowing, of innocent experience. I knew All, yet Nothing. Time was, yet was not. I was joined and united, yet free. I sensed the untrammeled reach of eternity, and the inconsequentiality of that other, unreal, reality that used to be my ego. If I had had tears, I would have wept with joy at all that was yet to be seen. If I had had a heart, it would have hurt with happiness that I had found what I had so long sought, found that which I had never lost but which nevertheless I still had to discover.
There are no words there, there never were words there that could describe the experience of Truth. Let the Silence of the eternal Darkness Be. It speaks of ultimate, never-ending invitation.