I did not blink.
I did not breathe. I lost awareness that I was on a mountain.
I lost awareness that I was tripping. I lost awareness that I existed.
The points of light grew fuzzy and bright.
Time touched the mountain world. I blinked. I inhaled.
I turned from the light. "I am alive in this desert," I thought.
Through the powerful, rose-colored lens of the initial rush,
the thought magnified and blossomed into a stunning realization.
I blinked again and exhaled.
I turned and saw Rama and the disciples. I knew that I was
*seeing* on a different level than they were. This made me happy.
A large, silly grin took hold of my face. The joy gradually receded,
but the facial muscles held. I knew the grin was out of sync.
I laughed.
I turned to some rocks. I grew serious. "The rocks," I realized,
"are part of the Earth. The Earth is sacred." I did not realize,
as I continued to astonish myself with my own profundity,
that I had finally entered a world similar to the ones described
in the Castaneda books.
Suddenly Rama raised his arms and made a whistling sound.
The disciples looked at him as if he were a god. I felt detached
from the scene, as if I were observing myself observe the disciples
observe the man acting like a sorcerer.
Pages:
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201