Dunked In The Ocean

Every so often, I get to experience the fullness of time. The fullness of time, in the most basic and inadequate explanation I can give without trying to explain colors and concepts that don’t technically exist, is when I can see everything that ever existed and will ever exist in creation, ever, in a moment compressed together and so brief I’m already back in my normal headspace before I realize it, after which I’m left wondering what the fuck just happened.
It most often happens, when it happens, in a meditative state. Some folks might think of a meditative state as sitting cross-legged on the floor, incense burning, candles aflame, soft music, humming or chanting, etc., but most often I enter meditative states in the full view of day, surrounded by others, and sometimes in the drive thru of a McDonald’s. If you’ve ever been behind me in line, well, sorry about that last one.
What really sucks is that I can give you the general gist of it, and it’s not something you wouldn’t understand, it’s just that all of my best words couldn’t really transfer the experience to you, because I lack the language skills necessary to do so, because I’m not sure the language exists that can adequately transfer the idea. Still, I’ll try:
Imagine you are a person of average intelligence. You’re looking at a blackboard with figures and mathematical calculations all over it. It is some of the highest math known to humans. To you (and I), it looks like gibberish. Oh, we may understand a symbol here or there, but we have no clue what it represents, or how it all fits together.
Suppose, then, that you are given the mind and understanding of, say, Stephen Hawking, and everything on the board becomes so clear and obvious that you’re aware of so many concepts you once thought foreign, or didn’t even know existed! You understand how every single piece of the puzzle fits together in the equation, and you understand what it means and, more importantly, where it points toward the next leg of the journey.
Now be pulled out of that, back into your normal, average brain, and look at the board again. Once more, you don’t understand much of it, things look like gobbledygook, but this time, you’re left with the faintest of impressions that you know what it might mean, where it might be leading. You don’t know the inner workings, but you can recognize a few of the telltales.
That is what it feels like, but on the grandest scale.
It’s like having your head dunked in the ocean. On the surface, you can only see water, but when your head is just underneath, you can suddenly see so much of what is going on, where the life is, how it connects to so many other forms, and then pulled out once more, you only see the surface again, but this time, you can feel the bracing effect of the water, you can remember echoes of what you saw, and suddenly the ocean no longer looks solely like a mysterious body of water with secrets unknown, it becomes something more.
If you’re ever wondering what the hell I’m talking about, this is probably why. It’s not that you can’t understand it, you can, but it’s one of those things you have to experience firsthand. Words just utterly fail to convey it. The only possible way to convey such an experience is through love. Not the kind of love people buy at the store, or the love that gets grudgingly passed back and forth between family members on holidays, but a kind of love that transcends all languages, all perceptions.
It is the kind of love that doesn’t see failure or fault. Therefore, no one exists outside of this love. Rather, all are inside of it, are connected to it, and can experience it firsthand if only they would open up enough to do so. It requires something very important, though, something that people tend to shy away from: it requires the complete and utter removal of control. It cannot be managed. You cannot hold on to your judgments, nor some of your anger, or any of your prejudices. You cannot carry anything into it, only away from it.
Accessing this conduit, for me, is overwhelming. I lose all concept of self. For whatever time I spend submerged, I emerge with the knowledge that I am not an island. While that feeling does fade after a few moments, it doesn’t go away. If you’ve ever wondered how I can say I love everyone, that everyone is my brother and sister, that we are all connected, that I can love you regardless of anything you’ve done, that is why. I have seen us as we truly are, what we were, and what we can be, what we will be. I have seen it, and I’m no one special in that regard. Anyone can. Everyone can.
Would you like to know what triggered it today? What caused me to dunk my head into the ocean today? I’ll tell you anyway. I was in line at the McDonald’s (sorry, people behind me), when I watched two men, one who appeared to be in his late 40s, the other in his mid-30s, walking along the side of the road that passes the restaurant (it’s at an intersection of gas stations). The older man started to walk towards the McDonald’s, and his friend, hands in pockets, spoke something to him (I couldn’t hear as they were about a dozen meters away). The older man’s face suddenly betrayed a downcast expression, and his shoulders slumped. Without breaking his stride, he changed course back to the direction in which his friend was traveling. They continued onward, walking quickly in the biting cold air.
Boom, head underwater.