Addendum To a Prelude To a Plelude

If you read my last posting here you might remember the story of an unusual healing I underwent, the apparent result of an experiment in utilizing the potential of energies that I've observed coursing through my arms and into my hands. It was certainly a surprise to me, one that was encouraging yet perplexing.  The little jeffy in me, the skeptical one, was unconvinced.  Alternately, Big Jeff simply echoed the comment from a friend who had read the account - Why not?  I decided there was a need to experiment further, and an opportunity quickly presented itself.

Soon after the period of the mysterious healing I decided the eyeglasses I had been wearing for several years were scratched beyond help and in need of replacement.  I went in to the shop to order a new pair and was informed that the prescription had expired and I was in need of a new examination.  That seemed like an annoying expense, but I acceded and set up an appointment with my ophthalmologist.  Little did I know that I would be in for a surprise.

After all of the usual mini-tortures that come with an eye exam, the doctor informed me that not only did I need a stronger eyeglass prescription, but that he had detected unusually high pressure inside my eyes and had spotted signs of early stage glaucoma.  He explained that glaucoma was the result of this high pressure squeezing on the optical nerve at the back of the eye, and over time this pressure would cause a gradual decrease in peripheral vision, eventually leading to a kind of tunnel vision.  He also explained that if caught early -as it was, hopefully, in my case - it could be treated, and so he referred me to have a more thorough examination at an eye surgery clinic in the area.

As you might imagine this was rather unpleasant news, exasperated by the fact that I am a dedicated VISUAL artist.  As so many come to realize, getting old sucks!!!!  I was unsettled, but the news of possible treatment was at least a bit encouraging.  After mulling things over for a couple of days I decided the best thing to do was to get the whole picture as quickly as possible, so I called the clinic to make an appointment.  They had received my referral and I was on file, but this was a busy clinic and the earliest  time I could get was six weeks out.  So much for quick.  I agreed to the date and time and resigned myself to waiting it out.  

Which turned out to be a blessing in disguise, for I realized this was the opportunity to experiment once again with the kundalini energies coursing through me.  I immediately integrated into my almost daily kundalini session a focused meditation, similar to the one I described in my last post concerning the skin blemish.  In each session, once I could feel the energies strongly flowing into my hands, I would raise my arms together, then  lower them until the palms of the hands hovered just over my eyes - right hand over right eye, left over left.  Every time, within seconds, that particular indescribable sensation that some label prana would envelope my eyes.  In my mind I imagined the prana working to return each eye to its natural, healthy state.  Two or three minutes would pass, at which point I would raise my hands high again, then return them to my side.

Did I believe this was going to make a difference?  Big Jeff simply suggested, why not?  On the other hand little jeffy counseled, don't hold your breath.  You might say the totality of me didn't believe this would work, but nonetheless had faith that something good would come of it.  At the least this faith allowed me to cut back on some of the anxiety and go about my day to day business with a degree of equanimity, where eventually it became a back burner issue in my life...until the day before the exam, when little jeffy started to lose it with flashes of anxiety.  Interestingly, Big Jeff held his calm, repeating over and over to the little guy the simple question - why not?  And guess what?  The calming advice worked.  By the day of the exam little jeffy was, if not exactly enthusiastic, at least  mostly stoic about what was to be revealed.

And so I, meaning the totality of me, walked fairly calmly into the clinic.  In fact, looking back on it now, I'm surprised at how calm I was.  This was quite possibly a life changing moment, yet I simply arrived, spoke pleasantly with the attendant at the desk, and submitted to a barrage of bizarre vision tests - modern medicine, as good as it supposedly is, is a madman's technological nightmare.  I had no idea what was being done to me, or for what purpose.  Room after room of crazy machines to stick my head into, barraging my eyes with unspeakably crazy light effects intended to tease out how far I have deviated from normal eye health.  After an hour of this I was led to a quiet room, where I received eye drops to dilate my eyes, being told that after 20 minutes the drops would take effect and a doctor would examine me.

I had brought a book, anticipating possible long waiting times.  It was one I was re-reading at the time, titled "The Time Falling Bodies Take To Light", an irony I only just now see.  It's a fascinating book examining the beginnings of language and culture in very early Homo Sapien life as long as 100,00 years ago.  Surprisingly, I became completely absorbed in the book despite the coming verdict from the doctor.  When he arrived he put me through a detailed examination of my eyes, yet for the first time since I arrived I felt I was being examined by a DOCTOR, not a machine.  He was a nice guy.  The assistant he brought was a nice gal.  They worked smoothly together, and I was comforted in a weird way.

Then the verdict came.  I just listened with no anxiety, no expectation.  Whatever was coming, I was ready for it.  The doctor said, rather simply, that I had no high pressure in my eyes.  I had no signs of glaucoma.  He recommended I come back in a year for another exam, but otherwise I was OK.

You can imagine the shit-eating grin on my face as I heard this verdict, partially disguised from the doctor by the covid mask I was wearing.  As I left, driving home with my temporary sunglasses shielding me from the intense light entering my still-dilated eyes, I considered the possible implications.  Maybe my ophthalmologist had made a mistake, had misdiagnosed my situation.  Or perhaps, just perhaps, prana had done its work.

 Why not?

To be continued...

Confessions of an Explorer, Part 4: Time Is On My Side???

Yet Another Prelude to a Prelude

I've been reporting observed events related to my Kundalini experience with the intention of getting them on record.  I'm not necessarily certain how to interpret them - what does one make of electric toe wiggles, dancing lights, arm to hand rushes of energy?  Not for me to say at this point -  just the facts, ma'am.  Here's the latest:

As the arm to hand energy sensations continued to increase I thought to conduct an experiment.  Many who speak of Kundalini conceptualize the energies as Prana, a life force that normally supports our biological machine at a low level we hardly notice, yet has the potential to greatly increase when activated.  Given my experience this seems a sensible possibility to me, and so I began to wonder if the discharge of energies into my hands could be utilized in some way.  We all have probably heard of individuals who claim to use energies of some sort to heal - laying on of hands, so to speak.  Could this energy radiating into my hands be some version of that?  If so, how would I test it?

I have very light skin, and  noticed a dark growth appear just above my left clavicle perhaps 5 years ago or longer.  Very small at first, hardly a concern, yet over time it has slowly increased in size to the point that recently I've considered having it looked at by a dermatologist and possibly removed.  Instead, I decided that this would be the object of an experiment involving the strange energy sensations rushing into my hands.

Let me first describe my current Kundalini practice.  Almost daily at some point in my activities I stop the normal flow of events and lie down on my back to do a 20 minute Pilates session aimed at loosening my upper back,  neck and shoulder joints.  Quite effective, by the way.  After finishing, still flat on my back, I start a mini-ritual, taking a deep breath as I spread my legs to shoulder width, then another deep breath as I spread my arms a bit from my hips, turning palms up.  One more deep breath and I close my eyes.  At that point I mentally fall into my body, and within minutes, sometimes seconds, the Kundalini/Prana energies begin to make themselves evident.  Often beginning at the perineum, sometimes in the heart region, the energies typically slowly build until they run down my arms and into my hands, creating an exquisite sensation in my fingers that causes them to flex and wiggle.  Here's where,  recently, I began my experiment.

Using the notion of Prana as a life force underlying our biological selves, I began conceptualizing the energies in my hands as having the potential to return damaged organs or cells to their normal, healthy state.  With this in mind I started to proceed with the experiment, the process as follows.  I extend my arms fully upward, and as I do so the sensations increase, surging to my fingers.  Then I lower my arms, hands going to my left neck area.  With my left hand I pull back the collar of my shirt and hover the open palm of my right hand over the skin blemish.  I hold this position for perhaps a minute, sometimes longer, literally feeling energy flowing into my palm.  When my arms begin to tire I end the experiment, raising hands first to the sky, then lowering into my normal Kundalini session position.

Did I believe anything would come of this?  The little jeffy in me was entirely skeptical, but willing to go along for the ride - after all, what was the harm?  Big Jeff just observed with arms folded over his sternum.  He had seen enough of the unusual to know better than to form an opinion; he is by nature very, very patient.  The Unborn was kicking in the womb.

I performed this experiment almost daily, but after ending the session tended to quickly forget about it as I immersed myself in day to day life.  After my usual morning shower I would occasionally glance at my shoulder, though most of the time it would not occur to me to check if there was any progress.  Then one morning, after three or four weeks of experimentation, I consciously took a look in the mirror and thought I detected a small change in the blemish, though I didn't have my glasses on and couldn't be sure due to a little fuzziness.  The next morning while in the shower I felt a little itchiness in the area and when I scratched it a piece of skin sloughed off.  I jumped out of the shower, putting my glasses on and wiping steam off the mirror.  I looked and...behold!  The very dark patch of skin was gone, and all that was left was a pale remnant of the shape!

What to make of this?  If you're going to insist on coincidence I can't argue with you, except to remind you that this patch of dark skin had been with me for many years, slowly growing over time, showing no signs of going away.  It had become a familiar, if slightly unnerving, presence in my body.  And now it's gone.

Just the facts, ma'am.

To be continued...

Confessions of an Explorer, Part 3: Can Culture Make Whoopee?

 Prelude to Another Prelude

In keeping with my last posting here I have a new Kundalini observation to share.  I previously mentioned the curious physical phenomenon I associate with my developing Kundalini process - the toe tingles, and the low illumination visual perceptions of dancing lights.  Not long after those arose yet another related surprise made itself known,  a pattern of lovely tingling nerve sensations  running down my arms and into my hands and fingers.  Subtle at first, these sensations now are quite strong and consistent, often signaling the beginning of a transition to a whole body prana/nerve explosion.  All of these experiences are available to me at most any time, though the intensities vary from day to day.  Yet in the long run there seems to be a steady increase in those intensities, suggesting a developmental arc, the goal of which is not yet apparent to me.

BTW, this recent August 18 was the 13th anniversary of the first onset of this mystery.  Quite a ride. 

Prelude

Mark Rothko (1903 - 1997 was a Latvian born American painter best know for his works under the genre identified as Color Field Painting.  He came into prominence in the 1950's and 60's and was an active, internationally renown painter until, after a protracted and deteriorating illness, he committed suicide.

If you're not familiar with the term, Color Field Painting is pretty much exactly as the name describes - large swatches, or fields, of pure color laid out in an abstract manner, usually on large canvases to amplify the effect.  Here's one of Rothko's works:

After his death a collector of his work living in Houston built a chapel there in 1971 and installed 14 large paintings that Rothko had produced for that purpose. The interior walls were almost completely covered  for 360 degrees.  Known as the Mark Rothko Chapel, it was (and presumably still is) a non-denominational chapel, free of admission and open to anyone desiring to spend time in contemplation within this aesthetic environment.

From 1973 to 1976 I found myself living in Austin, Texas, about 100 miles east of Houston.  I was in no way involved in an art practice at the time and knew next to nothing about contemporary visual art - a few works by Andy Warhol were probably the scope of my experience in that world.  I was young and mostly directionless, proverbially still trying to find myself.  The Rothko Chapel had only been up for a couple of years, and had make quite a splash in Houston; enough of a splash that word of it reached my ears in Austin.  When I had a chance to visit Houston for the first time some friends urged me to make a reservation to visit the chapel site, and that I did.  

I was one person when I walked in, and quite another when I walked out.

It's hard to describe the experience - ineffable, as they say, though almost 50 years later still indelibly inscribed in my memory.  The painting were huge, maybe 10' x 12' on average, and dark, yet incredibly subtle in the variations and nuances of color change.  I was alone, and spent my allotted time standing in place slowly turning round and round and round, almost breathless, stunned to the core.  I had never come close before to experiencing such a viscerally powerful visual presence.  

Perhaps because I was in a directionless, seeking stage of life I was ripe for it; open and defenseless and willing.  Or maybe that chapel was a true contemporary sacred site, and I experienced what many people did within those walls.  In any case, when a little bell rang announcing the end of my visit I exited in something like a dream, which stayed with me for the rest of the day.  I was a changed young man.

Fugue

This was, without a doubt, a whoopee experience, one between me and the work of a man 4 years dead.  How did it happen?  It was pure,laser-hot cultural transmission, perhaps similar to the experience of a stone-age young adult, innocent and naive, being led into the cavern of cave paintings at Lascaux, France twenty thousand years ago.  And as I imagine it was for my stone-age comrade, it was transformational for me.

So now we can see not only is there whoopee in the physiosphere, and lots and lots of whoopee in the biosphere, but that whoopee does indeed enter the noosphere through cultural interaction.  I've written here before of another cultural whoopee experience I had in that same young adult time frame of my life. after the first reading of Tolstoy's War and Peace.  I've had several since then - for example my first hearing of Beethoven's Opus 111 piano sonata, and the live concert experience of Benjamin Britten's War Requiem in which, upon ending, an entire audience of several hundred people were stunned into silence - nary a clap or bravo for at least a full minute, followed by a spontaneous and sudden thunderous applause.

These whoopee moments don't just come and go, like an ice cream cone on a hot summer afternoon.  It's my contention that they become a part of you, a living part that ceaselessly works on your personality structure, invisibly shaping and forming what you are to become.  Sometimes consciously, but mostly unconsciously or at best subconsciously, these experiences accumulate, each one entering into the process of your becoming, joining in the little workshop of your ever-changing life.  All of it driven by whoopee.

A process it is, and there is something about process that is always true - it happens over time, past to present to future. Or should we call it past-present-future?

To be continued...

Confessions of an Explorer, Part Two - As Above, So Below

 

Prelude to a Prelude

You may be wondering at the title of my last posting - Vocatus atque non vocatus, deus aderit.  It's an inscription in Latin on the tomb of the psychologist Carl Jung, and means "Called or not called, the gods rise".  I hadn't thought of that inscription for years until just recently I noticed it while scrolling through some of my very old postings.  It seems quite appropriate now in relation to my Kundalini experiences, appropriate in ways I hadn't considered many years ago when I first ran across this phrase.

But before I continue with my conceptual exploration of Kundalini I want to keep you up to date and share with you some of the more recent observations I have made in the development (there's that word!) of the Kundalini process I've been engaged in for these many years.  About two years ago I began noticing a new direction the energies seemed to be taking within my body.  Previous to that the sensations tended to start at the base of the spine, or sometimes the heart region,  and move up into my cranial region.  Then out of nowhere I began to sense a movement downward along the inside of my legs culminating in, of all places, my big toes.  The sensations were not strong, but definitely pleasurable.  It was like little mini-orgasms in my big toes - you might imagine my amusement!  This was not something I directed or willed, it just started happening.  Interestingly, I've seen no reference to this phenomenon in any Kundalini discussion, traditional or contemporary.  Slowly over time this has branched out into all of my toes and increased in intensity.  I can now, while engaging in what I call a Kundalini session, begin the most exquisite flow of sensations upward through the base of the spine, then the heart, then into the head, by simply wiggling my toes!

You probably think this is weird; I can't blame you, I think it's weird myself.  But there is more.

There has been a new and subtle change in my visual field of perception, a change that began perhaps about the time of the toe tingles.  One of my studio rituals while  in 'little jeffy' mode is to take a break during the day, turn down the lights and do a series of Pilates and yoga exercises on a low assembly worktable covered with a packing blanket.  It's an age thing - as I get older little aches and pains seem to persist and grow, and these exercises are a great way to minimize them.  As I'm doing these exercises I'm facing an old peeling painted brick wall displaying a soothing and quite beautiful texture in the dim light.  At some point, I can't pinpoint when, I began noting very subtle movement in the texture of the brick, as if little lights were dancing and flickering over the surfaces.  At first I assumed it was just a trick of the eye and thought little of it, but over time it has increased in intensity, and now at times when I'm looking at that wall it's not even a bit static visually, but a whirling kaleidoscope of light particles, sometimes so intense I can barely recognize the old wall textures.  Curiously, this light show disappears under normal illumination. 

Weird, I know.  Darker than any mystery...

Prelude

As above, so below.  Or put another way, as in the macrocosm, so the microcosm.  Almost a cliche, yet there is a kernel of truth there, a seed we might germinate to grow a new seedling of perspective.  The particular little seedling I have in mind is none other than the euphemistic term I used in the last posting when discussing early life on our planet - "whoopee".  So let's make a little whoopee here (figuratively speaking) and tease this thing out.

We'll start with the microcosm - little you, little me, little doggie, little birdy.  One thing everyone and every living thing in their holonic microcosm has been through (and probably remembers nothing of) is birth .  We generally take it for granted, but it's actually quite an astonishing thing on all levels.  For instance (speaking of seedlings), with the arrival of spring I've begun my annual attempt at growing potted tomato plants at my studio building.  I take these little tiny dried up tomato seeds and stick them into some wet dirt, then watch for days as the wet dirt just sits there, being wet dirt.  Then one day I check it out and there is this little stalk poking its head up out of the dirt.  Miraculous!  Yet, kind of ordinary, usually just taken for granted.  And that stalk grows and grows and grows, till one day it flowers, and out of the flowers tiny green spherical objects emerge, and they grow and grow and grow, then turn red, at which point I cut them up and  eat them....and experience an explosion of flavor in my mouth that makes me cry out WHOOPEE!!!

How all of this happens is simple.  Whoopee.  OK, the tomato form of whoopee is a little different than the average human  form, but whoopee nonetheless.  And it's that whoopee that paves the way to the astonishing miracle of birth.  From little mice to massive elephants, ants to anteaters, fungus to redwood trees; it's whoopee all the way up, all the way down.  You might say, the Biosphere is saturated with whoopee!

But what about the physiosphere, the sphere of rocks and moons and suns and galaxies?  Dead planets drifting through a vacuum; asteroids being pulled around willy nilly by the nearest gravity field; stones falling mindlessly down a mountain side during an avalanche, only to sit right where they stop for the next ten thousand years.  Where's the whoopee in that?

Well.......let's go back to the beginning, to that moment when time and space began and the cosmos was simply a massive burst of undifferentiated, incomprehensible energy.  Eventually, out of that ocean of fire emerged relatively little fireballs we now know as suns, and out of groupings of suns emerged galaxies, and within galaxies from individual suns emerged solar systems with planets.  Or to use another term rather than emerged, let's call it birthed.  How did all that happen?  Was it planned, orchestrated, guided?  I don't think so.  I THINK IT WAS WHOOPEE!!!  I mean, look at this image from the Hubble space telescope -

 

Dumb, purposeless accident?  No way.  That's pure, unadulterated whoopee at work.  You might say, the Physiosphere is also saturated with whoopee!

Which leaves us - if we're to consider not just the Cosmos but the entire Kosmos - with the Noosphere. the sphere of mind and culture.  Of course, lots of whoopee going on in most people's imaginations, but not much of consequence is usually birthed of that.  But if we think of mind, then think of the meeting of minds, we find ourselves in the sphere of culture.  Does culture somehow become the grounds for whoopee?

To be continued...

 

 

 

 

My Significant Other is the Kosmos: Confessions of an Explorer Part One - Vocatus Atque Non Vocatus, Deus Aderit

Prelude

I just re-read my most recent posting on this blog site, and the incident it details was indeed a remarkable series of events.  But now I'm going to shift gears just a bit and go into a broader exploration of what overall has occurred in the last twelve plus years since my world was upended by that energetic opening in the body which took me, and its subsequent unfoldment.  This potentially could involve some difficult reading for followers of this blog (and difficult writing for myself), so I'll try to keep it as simple and entertaining as I can for both of our sake.  My intent is simply to arrive at some clarity by laying out a framework with which we can all look at and make some sense of this unusual phenomenon sometimes labeled 'Kundalini Awakening'.

But to do that I'll have to first clarify where I'm coming from.  Though Kundalini is often spoken of within a spiritual context (and I'll use the term 'spiritual' in the most open, generic sense for now), I myself am not a spiritual seeker, nor have I ever been.  I've never followed any sort of spiritual/religious dogma or practice, nor sought a spiritual teacher or guru.  Even in art school I never had a particular mentor (I like to say I spent seven years in art school, then spent the next seven years forgetting everything I learned there; that's when the real work began).  I'm not looking for God in any way, shape or form - for that matter, not even in formlessness.  Though not a seeker, I will split some hairs here and describe myself as an explorer; perhaps, one could say, an explorer without a destination, but still guided by principles inherent in three questions I've mentioned in the past - what are we; why are we here; what are we doing here?

The vehicles of that journey have varied, though prominently centered around three activities - creative visual practice; philosophical speculation, both through deep readings and deep conversations with fellow explorers; and of course writing, such as in this blog.  All the while through these activities I've carried with me - sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously - that faith that I spoke of in the last posting, that yearning to know that this exploration of mine into our sometimes painful, often wacky, occasionally awe inspiring Earthbound life is, in fact, not only a worthwhile venture, but is exactly what I, at least, need to be doing.  A Buddhist might call it my dharma. 

Where that dharma is leading me I have no clue, but along the way in my journey I stumbled upon something entirely unexpected and astonishing; or perhaps it stumbled upon me.  That discovery, of course, was the Kundalini I've been speaking of.  For twelve years now it has stuck with me, seemingly working me over through both body and mind.  And yet, I can even now borrow the title of my last group of postings and simply say "it is darker than any mystery".

But it just so happens I have a little flashlight...

 

Fugue

...and that flashlight's name is evolution.  Another name is creativity.  Another name is development.

Evolution, creativity, development - three words that in many ways are interchangeable.  If we think of the term evolution as we typically do, we usually picture the evolution of the Cosmos.  Consisting of the physiosphere and the biosphere, there is a traceable  movement through time from the Big Bang to the emergence of life on this apparently lonely (for the moment at least) ball of rock we call our Planet Earth. 

It's really astonishing to flesh out this picture.  From - so far as we know - nothing, came an immense and unfathomable release of pure energy, followed by the gradual condensation of that pure energy into fireballs of matter, then further into stars and solar systems and galaxies on an unbelievable scale (it's been recently estimated that there are on average 2.25 billion stars per galaxy, and possibly a mind-bending 2 trillion galaxies!!!).  Then, 10 billion or so years later on our little, lonely planet, somehow someway life emerges within the primordial swamp in the form of tiny, squiggly one-celled creatures who could actually make choices (imagine the little fella swimming along without a care in the world, then sensing a strong glucose current and thinking "hmm, I think I better hang a left here" - OK, single celled creatures don't think in words, but you get my drift).  Not only that, they eventually discovered that by making a little whoopee they could produce new versions of themselves (contemplate that - the evolutionary emergence of whoopee!).

From there time starts to compress as multi-cell creatures appear, then complex organisms leading to the underwater plant world, followed by the underwater animal world, and on to dry land.  Species after species after species appearing then disappearing for billions of years, until 100 million years ago dinosaurs ruled the lands, only to be interrupted by the explosion of a large meteor strike in the Gulf of Mexico and the subsequent nuclear winter which wiped out everything on Earth bigger than a chicken.  And that opened the door for the mammals - at the time no more than small underground dwelling rodents who managed to survive the calamity of the meteor strike, suddenly having the freedom to roam on the surface.

And after 100 million years more of mammalian species endlessly appearing then disappearing, the human species emerges 100-150 thousand years ago.  And that species would eventually be able to discover and comprehend something astonishing - evolution itself!  And write about it on glowing instruments that make letters and words and sentences appear and disappear with the touch of a finger...

If you don't look at that big picture and see boundless creativity, then, well... maybe I need to work on my communication skills!

So in my view, one could well say evolution is, for all intents and purposes, creativity itself.  It's also development - like I said, big bang to physiosphere to biosphere, and with our arrival on the scene , to noosphere.  Clearly a line of development.  And to quote a well used phrase from many religious traditions, "As above, so below", the below being little you and little me, tiny blips on the immense cosmic scene...or perhaps, if we forget quantity and focus on quality, not so tiny?

To be continued...