The Tendrils Of Consciousness

Sometimes I remember a specific event from my childhood or my university days and it seems like a dream.

Did it really happen?

If it did happen, where is it now? The only way this event exists is in my dreams. It exists in my mind and my heart. Maybe it exists in my soul if it had a big enough impact on me. But besides that, it is nowhere. It is as if it didn’t happen. If no one else was involved in it, it might as well have been unreal. A mirage, coated with real people and real places, but filled with shiny nothingness. When you touch it, it disappears. You try to run after it, but it runs faster. You stop and it lures you in. It beckons to you, wanting you to be consumed by figuring out what is really going on.
A lot of meditation sessions are like that. They are mirages. I do not know if what is going on is real or not.

Am I really feeling that bright light above my head, white and piercing, or is it an illusion?

Sometimes I wake up out of my meditation and see that the sun has risen and the bright light that I felt was the sun’s buttery-yellow rays shining directly in my face. Sometimes I come out of it, and see darkness. It is still early morning, darkness prevails, as the lights outside and inside are all dimmed. Then, I wonder did I really see that bright light? What does it mean? Is it a good or bad thing? Should I even be labelling it?
I have no buddhist guru to fall back upon, only the myriad posts on the internet about meditation. No one really speaks about the innard of it, how you might feel on the inside when you do it, but only about the details on how to do it, how to sit, what to listen to, how to end it.

I feel the tendrils of consciousness, the singular entity, the consciousness that governs us all, coming upon me sometimes.

Everything seems so clear in my mind. It’s so clear that it is almost scary at times. That is when I falter and fall back. I’m not ready for this yet. I’m not old enough or mature enough or smart enough or cool enough. Whatever it might be, I fall back. I refuse to see reality.

I let the tendrils fall away.

I dismiss them with the wave of the head. I do not want to be there. Yet.
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