Last night, before falling asleep, I could feel, every .5 seconds or so, the electrical pulsations of information streaming from my extremeties, through my arms and to my center. I expected them to flow to my spin then my head, but they did not.
The more I focused on it, the more I felt my cellular cities thriving and surviving and moving along. Mitochondria factories, nuclear superhighways.
The more I focused on it, the more I felt as infinite and as pleasure. As a conglomeration of the universe, and a grand contraption.
My breathing altered the essence of the feeling, which was like that of a drug I have not yet experienced. It was intense and good and kind.
I think this is what Yoga and meditation are all about; something I never took the time to learn formally.
Then again, I rarely learn anything formally. I stumble across it. The maters of chaos, the meters of the jainist, the messiahapos;s soul and the properties of my expanding Self and universe. Wakened life, the buddha-stream that is far less intoxicating than the mind-stream of the planet.
Stumbling upon these things is a lot more fun, a lot more personal and rewarding; so I asked perhaps subconsciously, though somewhat consciously, to be shown what meditation is and what it can do for me, and there lying in bed I saw it.
I never breathe through my mouth.
Iapos;ve been in this state somewhat for half my life, and never even realized it. But being able to inward focus on myself, it is so ethereal and yet so specific, the feeling of the biology and the mind just studying itself and enjoying itself.
I will study this, and enjoy it.
After this, once Iapos;m ready, I donapos;t think I will ever need to take another drug again.
That was the last step, here is the next.
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