Fantastically Real is Better Than Fiction

One of the most interesting side effects of realization is when the stories we create are clearly seen for what they are.  In this case, it's the story of a ride in a Time and Space Machine.

Warning:  After realization it gets more and more difficult to lie, even to "yourself".  


And everything is just a story.


Here's one:

Just yesterday (a concept I have more and more difficulty parsing), I flew home to South Florida from Atlanta.  It's a relatively quick flight which lasts less than two hours by the clock.  The trip reminded me of another flight, a long one from New England to Hawaii involving multiple planes and a flight pattern over the Pacific to land in Oahu.

Or so the memory goes.  In another version of the story, I  flew high and fast through the night skies, over a massive body of ocean and under billions of stars, then hours later, arrived in another place, another time.

Both stories are good ones.  It's all in the telling.

But without those two particularly interesting conceptual overlays, what was the more immediate experience?

In yet another version, there was a sensation called "walking", of moving through an opening, sitting in a cramped area, warmth, feelings of discomfort, odd sensations of pulling and pushing, moving pictures on a white screen, a few big bumps, loud noises, then again the sensation called "walking" down an aisle, where people stood to say,

"Aloha!  Welcome to Oahu!"




There is another version that seems more fantastic than most, but a check of reality proves it out as the truest.   In this one there was nothing happening, not even time.  Thought and sensation arose from nothing, out of nowhere, seemingly following each other.  They arose to no one.  They appeared neither inside nor outside.  The entire experience had no beginning and no end, and was Life Itself.... no experiencer ever necessary.  


Fantasicly real.






photo credit:  bosniak on deviantart