The Seventh Direction

PART TWO: Inner Space. Episode 31

                                                                                       [Wyl narrates —A.A.]  

                                                        6

                                             IN THE WOMB

___A oneness in flight

I felt a bed beneath me. I felt like about three years old. I felt myself weak and ailing and needy. But there was more: I felt the security of a . . . home surrounding me. And in the moment, the feeling felt like a Christmas Eve might feel, with that extra-special bondedness of family, a bond which seems to flourish stronger then, during that season. Or like a surrounding support system, buoyant, and enveloping, like layers of soft, warm blankets wrapped round one on a cold, crisp night. Or like a cocoon of safety, or a touchstone—this home, this family, and these contented times and feelings that comforted me. I surrendered to the need.

A toddler-memory of Mother's laying on of hands on my cramped stomach arose. Gut aches. Got them all the time. When I was a kid. Her physical form was absent, but her hands and her gentle presence . . . pure white hands . . . and her not-form, glowing rosy, all round my bedroom in Vision. I hadn't then, but realized now just how wondrous Mother's healing capabilities were. I relived the healing. But whereas before, the healing had been from pain to ease, now the healing was . . . otherworldly . . . an otherworldly movement, from the comfort of a peaceful-sleep to the bliss of a higher moment with her. Sleep. I guess you could say I was asleep. Or dreaming. But at another level I was wide awake, recording and participating. And I wondered if this rosy glowing presence betrayed my Birth Mother or the Earth Mother, though it didn't really matter, for they felt like one and the same. Akin. And I was carried away, through the womb of Her being, into the clearlight-image Mother held. A bright image. A very bright image! A familiar very bright image not to be gazed upon for too, too long.

'How wondrous the flow feels!'

And the feeling—the flow—uninterrupted by concerns of the day, brought another perspective and awareness through the clearlight image. Peaceful. Synchronous. Such unlimited direction. Dimension! Illustrated space! Another timeline! 'Your wish is your command!' So free and at one with this presence, I felt I were glimpsing reality—potential reality, really—that how I felt and what I perceived was more than probable and could be the ground I walked on! 'Maybe this is where my "radical" nature, my desire to break the binding chains of the failing everyday-world, sprouts from.'

That thought stopped the flow of dream as if to say, "look deeper . . ."

So I did, and in so doing I observed then became part of a most magnificent change. The dream-feeling flowing through me, halted, hovered before me, sat there (waited), then took me the observer into flight through the dream. And to suddenly have the capacity to both observe and participate synchronously in some further and sweeter experiencing of the dream-creation was wondrous. But I was not alone in this venture and soon found myself full-circle, situated before my most recent "radical" memory, like I had gone in one side of a Mirror, out the other, and about-faced to look at where I'd been! Another memory followed up. But, before moving on (Mother and I), I had need to reckon with them.

Memory 1: Remembering thinking about myself as a radical (if indeed one should like to call it thinking), while I journeyed within the image Mother held, had me thinking for real this time, and back-tracking a bit. And although I knew I was responsible in part for creating the dream, still I knew it came from beyond me, through the image In The Womb of "Mother" and supportive of the very Image that God (if you should like to call Him that) held for man.

Memory 2: Public School science had taught me that a radical was also part of a flower—a "radicle" (and I felt as if I were a participant in a part of some Evolution in a time when the seed begins to sprout, for we began to move again, and I seemed to be meandering about in an image set in motion long ago)—and yet the things I did when I was free to live my radical-life were an active part in its process. And my radical desire (and unborn flowers have desires, too, don't they? Sort of?) felt urgent within me, a growing urge—an impulse to find a knowledge with which I could participate more fully in life. Surely a desire Mother felt and gave herself up to, holding it and thereby instilling it in me. (Memories over—but from an inner place, from beyond Self as I knew it to be, an intuition came coursing through me to become a new vision, innersight and sense activating the image.)

I truly felt like the child I was: breaking through new ground, running up the evolutionary stalk of the radical "radicle," peeking at the sky, then hightailing it back to make sure Mother was still there. 'How much like a bud I am, sprouting,'  I mused. But Grandfather Sun, clearlight in the deep blue sky at the far extremity, and then Mother's pink-hued clarity of thought, feeling, memory, and time, in image at the other?

'Clearly Mother's grand negative-receptive quality, you see~~~

As if I'd dawdled in comfort long enough, I felt a gentle shove. Deeper within the womb I went. And it was smooth movement. A silky ride. But my perception of things (my exploration and my view of Mother Earth and the image and the dream [in the near and dear], compared to Father Sky and Grandfather Sun on the far horizon) fashioned a polarity—a wipe-out, magnetic attraction in and through my feeling world. And I began to spin wildly. Amazing! Spiraling—

. . . I began to re-emerge.

The e/motion felt caused the spiraling; and as Earth and Sky and I merged, a formation began to unfold. All was constant motion now. I was moving; the dream was moving. A Oneness in Flight. And as I realized the three (son-self, Mother and Father) as facets of myself, right before my eyes, they hovered (spinning roundabout themselves, equidistant apart) and fashioned a laser-like connecting-strand each to the other. (Triangulation of the spheres, I think so . . . and a recent bit of knapsack/pillow-poetry came to mind.)

Returned now as eyewitness to the flow of dream, I felt as though I were seated. The screen-of-mind pictured the three revolving orbiting-selves coming to rest in their new formation, together, hovering as one. Then rebirth, and movement. New Movement now, under the care and counsel of a 'will'  within deeper depths of my consciousness (I knew 'it'  was always there—'spirit'  that is—bringing this beauty round my way) fully factored upon my being as the physical sensation of sitting affirmed itself.

All other facets of Self gathered in and assumed the position.