TRANSFIGURATION: HYPNAGOGIC HALLUCINATION or MY SO-CALLED EPIPHANY
TRANSFIGURATION: Jostfoto
“All
night, all day, Angels watching over me, my Lord…
Now I lay me down to
sleep, Angels watching over me, my Lord.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep, Angels watching over me…”
~Traditional Hymn
I must have been five;
maybe six years old, I recall a bedroom shared with my baby brother, four years
younger. He slept without contest, interned
behind retractable bars in a crib. The twin
bed upon which I slept was situated free-range under a spacious window, positioned
parallel within whispering distance--the proximity of our beds both spatially efficient
and efficacious.
Being put to bed for the
sole purpose of falling to sleep was a rule of conduct strictly administered by
our parents. There was no margin for infraction. Dad was once a sergeant in the Air
Force. Consequently, lights-out,
barracks protocol prevailed. One peep heard,
incurred a stern reappraisal of incriminating behavior.
Sure, we talked
amongst ourselves--gibberish, really. Courting
suspense under the radar was part of the fun; even if it was mostly monologic. We
just couldn’t help ourselves. And, why
not? A five year old and his junior
roommate had a lot to share, recapping the day’s business. Besides, provided the “pss pss pss banter” maintained
a decibel level below the drone of the distant television, the recumbent tete a
tete could go on for quite a while undetected.
Plus, we had a back-up plan, too.
Muffling spontaneous eruption of uncontrollable cackles, burying
contorted faces into pillows was an accident-proof recourse---well, almost
always.
Eventually, due to
being kept up way past his bed-time, the little sibling slipped into slumber. Subsequently, there I would be, left to my
own devices, a whirling dervish of spinning quixotic visions in the noggin. The room invariably transmuted into a
shadow-box. An interplay of morphing shadows
and silhouettes surrounded me. I was by no means, a fearful child. And, I did know the difference between what
was real and what prevarication was. Nevertheless,
just the same, menacing chimera and fantastic scenarios could be actuated
through the wide-open aperture of this child’s hyperbolic imagination.
Perched upon a pillow,
elbows propped on the sill, peering out into an enchanting, mysterious
star-speckled sky was preferred over counting sheep. The vast expanse of The Milky Way provided a
panoramic canvas, whereby, connecting twinkling dots, real and imagined
constellations were constructed. Exhaling
breezes unfurled the festooned curtains, sheer and diaphanous, wafting like
angel’s wings aflutter in wisps of fugacious flight. Serenaded by a nocturnal chorus of cooing, chirping,
croaking creatures concealed amidst the phantasmagorical landscape, enchanted
my eardrums. A multi-timbral soundtrack,
an incessant, yet soothing night-music lullaby, would coax inevitable sleep. My
bed, an interplanetary craft, transported me out beyond the cares of the day
left behind.
On one of those
star-trek nights, cast adrift in the Orphic Realm, I had the strangest,
heretofore sensation. Betwixt sleep and
awake, my body froze paralyzed, heavy and immovable. Inexplicably, I was unable to shake myself free
from an inexorable cataplexic grip. I was falling, free-falling without a
parachute, impervious to the external world of five senses. My inert body was molting, a lifeless
garment, over a bottomless chasm.
Futile, hapless screams hollered out, were mute. Senseless cries for help, reverberated and
echoed back to me within a bell jar vacuum.
I fell deeper, deeply into an inescapable void of hollow darkness.
Just before impact, a
spasm jolted an instantaneous paroxysm! I literally jumped out of my skin, buoyant, hovering
above the bed. The previous prepubescent
kinesthetic disappeared into thin air. Even though, I still thought of myself
as my self, I was disconnected from the flesh and bones identity lying supine
down below. Enlarging, my awareness
encompassed multitudes, an integral part of an ever-expanding, pulsating
Universe.
Do
I contradict myself? Very well then I
contradict myself,
(I
am large, I contain multitudes.) ~ Walt
Whitman
The walls of my room took
on a volatile, mirage-like transparency.
Were they evaporating? The dialogue
and laugh tracks emanating from the television interspersed with my parent’s
laughter and conversation could be heard down the hall. Yet, clearly, I wasn’t in Kansas, or more
precisely---I wasn’t in Florida, anymore.
Not in possession of comprehensive
literary allusion, my young mind construed the perplexity akin to Dorothy being
whisked away to the Land of Oz.
What in heaven’s name
was happening to me? How was this
Technicolor splendor broadcasted in such panoramic high definition widescreen? Apart from the improbability of it all, I was
just about as beguiled as a five year old could be in the throes of an astral
projection. The new-found ability to
navigate in gravity-defying feats of aeronautics was out of this world. There was no need for wires and
harnesses. One could actually hang glide
upon command without the aid of updrafts or wingspan.
Quite unexpectedly, the
apparition of a man, attired in a black tuxedo materialized. His corpse, for that is what he resembled,
was outstretched overhead. He was poised
at a 45 degree declination, suspended mid-air, where the window had been. Despite appearing dead normal, his grimace had
a facial contour of someone in excruciating pain.
Did I know this man
hitherto this ethereal excursion? Except
for the movies, I had no recollection of ever seeing someone so formally
dressed. However, a peculiar familiarity
regarding this stranger was disconcerting.
???
Propelled by
curiosity, I maneuvered about for a closer inspection. The apparition had been stabbed between the
shoulder blades. Strange though, there
were no visible signs of struggle, or blood.
Thus, if he was a revenant that had come on the scene to haunt and
spook, he remained uncharacteristically still and composed in a wake of repose
and eternal sleep.
Then, a strange thing
mystifying occurred. A sensory rush of
confounding effect overwhelmed me. Into
the wild yonder, the specter began to levitate slowly, air-lifted by a
mysterious force. His countenance
modulated to luminous serenity, like those picture book paintings I had seen of
angels aglow with loving, beneficent beatitude.
The empyreal entity soared heavenward evoking, what would turn out to
be, shamanic soul alchemy.
Beholding this
numinous TRANSFIGURATION, my heart filled to over-flowing with ECSTASY, a
palpable LOVE. The multiverse was transplendent,
flood-lit with glorious, unified LIGHT. Was
this a panegyric celebration, a victorious return home aloft in the celestial
ocean of SUPREME BLISS? Ascending out of
reach, leaving no trace, the avatar was consumed by a sacramental immolation of
OMNIPRESENT WHITE FLAME DIVINITY, at once pixelating into millions, billions,
trillions of white doves.
I haven’t been the
same since.
“At that time Jesus said, ‘I praise you, Father, Lord of
heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and
learned, and revealed them to little children’.” ~ Matthew 11:25
In retrospection, I entertained
the manifestation of a martyred incarnation. It mattered not whether the visitation came
from the past or future, or if it was an adumbration of the present lifetime. The uncanny thing was, when I found myself in times of
trouble, struck down by cruel twists of fate, the sense memory databank downloaded
this apotheosis as an instantaneous, decisive moment. Through the years, though kicking and
screaming at times, I’ve had the forbearance to endure outrageous misfortune
and senseless suffering from a higher perspective. Indelibly etched into my impressionable psyche,
like the relic of a venerated saint, the EPIPHANY has given me hope and faith
when friends and family failed.
Hindsight is 20/20. I see now the EPIPHANY was a prescient gift
of GRACE. Further, the revelation foretold
via metaphorical narrative, the process of ASCENSION. Even at an early age, I was given a brief
catechism—a pictorial guide for the attainment of the soul’s highest expression. The ascended martyr archetype represented overcoming
earthly sorrow through the ebullient power of forgiveness.
“Father, forgive them---they know not what they do.”
When heartbreaking
vicissitudes of cruelty, betrayal, abandonment and rejection leave one in doubt
as to the higher purpose of living the Golden Rule---those are the transformative times we do it for our own
soul's transcendence of the material world.
Within the greatest weakness resides the
kernel of the greatest strength. The disparity between the two reconciled into
a unified axiom of truth is not an altogether easy task. As a matter of fact,
when served the foibles, fallibility---yes, even the ruthlessness, it can be
quite a conundrum, especially in regards to idealizing THOU. Yet, the greatest lesson--- despite the tribulations
suffered, even by the most desperate, despicable hands imaginable, we trust all
are just seeking a way forward---the way of all flesh evolving. By penetrating the unfathomable abyss of the
soul, we excavate the greatest gifts of FAITH, COMPASSION, HOPE and LOVE.
Our bodies are becoming crystalline compounds of ever
increasing photon energy. The activated Merkaba
Star Tetrahedran, Ezekiel's Chariot, will transport us to lofty realms where
prejudicial borders and echelon criteria are no more.
Divine timing is everything. As Gaia traverses the photon belt, the sun
continues to molt its molecular structure, a birthing-process manifesting in
massive coronal ejections and solar flare activity. This in turn is accelerating the pulse of the
telluric dimension into the higher octaves of vibrational frequency. As above, thus below: The tetrahedral silica of the time-space
continuum fabric is being activated by these monumental galactic light-source
events: a triangulation is aligning the structures of the crystalline human
liquid body (especially through DNA and the pineal) with Gaia's crystal grid
network. What was once engineered
utilizing the density of shadows will no longer hold up to the light. As humanity's consciousness evolves, returning
to the One Light, collective thought will transform from an elitist mind
control matrix into a halo:
Ascended
Masters of Truth, Set Free.
