In time you realize that you are not bound by the body. Sometimes I experience myself sitting in my own lap. What does that mean? What does the finger feel sitting in the hand? Is it like sitting in a chair? If you really investigate that, you might get interested in studying mathematical topology and multidimensional spaces. You might wonder how things fold into each other from different dimensions, how the dimension of consciousness melds into the physical dimension. You might buy a fancy, hand-blown Klein bottle or start playing with a Mobius strip. You realize that you are a four dimensional being. The fourth dimension is more like consciousness and being. Not only are you a four-dimensional being, but you expand more and more, and come to realize that you are one with humanity. And that humanity is one beingness, one living being. At the core of who you are—at the center or heart of the soul—your experience is intimately connected with all humanity. The connection is not through your mind, but actually the way a finger is connected to another finger. And if you go further, you realize that you are connected with and in fact are everything. That’s what we call universal consciousness. You are the universe. The whole universe is the Logos, the Word. The universe is a beautiful harmony of everything as one being in constant transformation, one being in a constant state of resurrection. Even further, you realize that you are the mystery from which all of that comes. You can perceive the whole show, not just your personal show but the whole cosmic show, as something emerging and happening now. Not only do you emerge and transform, but the whole universe emerges and transforms. That state of transformation and change includes life and death and everything in between. All of this wonder is revealed through knowing who you are.

It occurs to me that this experience is somehow connected to the completely black diamond, but this is an obscure intuition, not a clear insight. What is certain, however, is the feeling-understanding that the total experience of the universal witness is revealing further implications. I understand, experiencing myself as the silent vastness at the end of the vision, that realizing this dimension of identity involves not only going beyond the personal life and history, but also experiencing oneself as beyond all of existence. What does this mean, however? Is existence something I need to or can go beyond? As the inquiry takes this direction I remember a small detail of the experience: As I saw the whole universe shrinking to a point, I simultaneously felt a network of subtle physical tensions, mostly on the left side of the body, including the ego-line, concentrating into a point at the mobius. At the instant the universe became a point in my vision, the subtle tension network collapses into a point at the mobius. The collapsed center of tension totally dissolves as the point disappears. At this instant I find myself as the vast silence of awareness, boundless and centerless. Does this mean that the world that has disappeared is only the universe of the ego-self? What does it mean when the experience is comprised only of the silent witness, with the sense that the world is not? In the fleeting experience, the silent witness experiences the world as not. The experience-vision is definitely that the world is ending. The awareness witnesses an “event” of universal annihilation.

At this point of the contemplation, I become aware that the mind assumes that this disappearance of the world is only the experience of the witness, and that at other levels the world still exists objectively. This makes rational sense, since I continue to perceive the immediate manifestations of the universe. The universe has not actually disappeared, although a sheer luminous awareness now suffuses it. Nevertheless, the inner vision is an actual experience that means something significant, for I feel my mind very deeply affected. Something has annihilated, which is clearly related to the total structure of the personality. But how does this relate to my experience of the actual universe?

Upon waking up in the morning, I find my attention riveted by a feeling of hurt in the heart. The hurt is warm and sad. It feels like the heart is wounded in its very flesh. The hurt leads to a gnawing sensation in the mobius, the subtle center at the sternum. The gnawing is painful; it feels physically grating, but also emotionally difficult. A frustrated feeling has become stuck at the lower part of the chest, turning into a gnawing sensation. I feel all this mixed with the feeling of hurt and sadness. I contemplate the hurt, the sadness and the physical contraction. Holding all in awareness, while intimately feeling all of the nuances of the ongoing experience. The contemplating awareness embraces the content of experience with a feeling of warm kindness and with an attitude of curiosity, not knowing what the hurt is about, but interested to find out. The gnawing sensation responds to the motiveless inquiry, and begins to soften as the contraction at the mobius center relaxes, revealing an unexpected element to the sadness: loneliness. The hurt turns out to be the pain of feeling lonely. The feeling of loneliness wets the sadness with more tears, and the hurt expands into an emptiness underlying the sadness. Now it is deep, sad loneliness.

The mobius center is located a little higher than the solar plexus, right at the lower end of the sternum. It is a major center that is considered to be one of the hearts—we call it the universal heart. So if there is a block in that area, a person might experience the love and the softness but might not be able to taste it.

One day I become aware of a subtle contraction of the mobius center at the sternum. Being subtle, it does not affect my sense of presence or my capacity to function. Retaining this impression in my awareness in the course of the day’s activities, I realize at some point that it is part of a larger condition. I become aware of a small hole at the location of the solar plexus. My interest is stimulated; I have not experienced a hole in this location for a long time. An easy, spontaneous inquiry into this experience arises. The light-hearted inquiry intensifies the throbbing at the center of the forehead. The throbbing has a sense of quietness and peace, a radiating stillness. I see the essential nous, the discriminating intelligence or diamond guidance, mostly black. A black presence of stillness glimmers with faceted radiance, as it is activated by the curiosity and questioning. The contraction at the mobius relaxes and dissolves, and sadness and emptiness arise. The sadness develops into deep black tears. The tears are deep and warm, and seem to drench the totality of my inner conscious field. The sense of teary sadness comes and goes; I realize there is some difficulty in staying with the experience. This intensifies my curiosity, and adds a silvery glimmer to the diamond blackness of the nous, expressing steadfastness in inquiry. The sadness deepens and becomes more definite. This increases my awareness of the depth and intimacy of blackness. My consciousness is pervaded by the blackness of the absolute, as I relax into its depth, enfolded by intimacy, soft and light, peaceful and exquisite. My center of awareness sinks deeper into the intimate depths, with a visual sense of receding away from the surface awareness of the environment. I am now centered in a depth from which all of existence appears as surface. It is similar to being in the depths of an ocean, perceiving the changing phenomena at its surface. As I recede into this depth, the issues related to the teary sadness are revealed.

I still feel that I do not want to leave the people and the things that I love. This refusal becomes a contraction of the soul, a tightening at the mobius. The hole at the solar plexus indicates the loss of will and choice as I recognize the impossibility of holding on to my present life. I cannot deny the certain eventuality of death. As the contraction lets go slowly, and in spite of me, due to the inexorable pressure of truth, I see myself as the blackness of the absolute receding from the individual soul. I start experiencing myself as the intimacy of the absolute, and the soul as only a surface manifestation. The totality of the life of the soul appears now as a luminous, colorful ripple arising in the vastness of the mystery. I realize that this is the place from which to confront death. As the absolute I recognize myself as the deathless. And from this place there is serenity about death, and about the separation from loved ones. In contrast, from the vantage point of the contracted soul death is very undesirable and threatening.

A part of the shell at the left side of the body transforms, becoming shiny black obsidian. This transformation is breathtaking but brief. The hardness of the obsidian is quickly covered over with a soft sheath, and there appears a physical contraction at the familiar place of the ego line and around the left shoulder. As the experience develops a solid hardness appears over the heart area, like a large pebble. It seems separate from everything else in my awareness. I can see that the separateness is connected with the physical tension, which makes the pebble feel like a blockage. It strikes me that the pebble is a protective shield over the heart. For a few mornings, upon waking up, I begin the day with no awareness of the pebble. There is only a slightly soft and cushiony sensation at the ego line, sometimes at the spleen. I recognize it as a mild manifestation of the falsehood of the personality, giving me the sense of being a person who can interact with other persons. The dominant state, however, is openness and spaciousness. At some point during the day, the pebble makes its appearance at the left side of the chest. By the end of the day it moves to the center of the body, finally situating itself at the subtle center of the mobius, and a certain emotional state manifests. The arising emotional state is still obscure and vague, difficult to pin down. This process repeats itself for a few days, regardless of the events in my life.