, , ,

s. is now a ball of fire, a compendium.
i can't describe his experiences in some spheres; the reconciliation

of 'sheep' and 'wolf'. if there were two sides of his body, being

symmetrical, each with varying qualities in sensation, where was

the center? did the center exist in sensation? even on a physical

plane direct knowledge was fleeting.

i can only describe what happened. s. has embarked on a voyage

into uncharted territory; that is 'the self', or, at least what is

within reach of conscious attention.

when he got that job at the american foundation for the blind, it

was in a way, symbolic. what does a blind man see? the inner

world he inhabits is richer for the paucity of external distractions.

operating the record stamping machines s. was in constant easy

motion; nothing heavy, nothing strenuous, but perpetual

movement over and over again eight hours a day, six days a week

with one half hour lunch break and two 15 minute breaks.

s. was a whirling dervish. he operated two stations, each with a

stamper with 600 tons of pressure, a 'biscuit', hot black vinyl blob

with a hole in the center, and a cutter. twice. so that as soon as he

slid the labeled record into it's paper sleeve, the other stamper

snapped open. he could hear it. he had to whirl around and repeat:

push button for biscuit, place label in the gaping jaws,then

biscuit, then second label and get those soft hands outta there

quick as it snapped shut to press the sounds of "the last of the

mohegans", or the daily news into a record. then the other snaps

open. pull it out, put on cutter, place label etc. etc. ad infinitum,

day after day.

the point i am trying to elucidate is that s. had no time for

dreaming. that is why one day he had a spiritual experience in the

pitch dark stairwell where he would sit still as a stone after his

hurried lunch of chicken soup. perfectly still, but with the

repercussions still vibrating through his cells. eyes closed or open

didn't matter. closed, it was dark, open it was black.

in the utter quiet s. was searching for, there was nothing. just

breathing and being. s. opened his eyes and there was light

streaming from no particular source. quantum particles, spears of

light were coming from nothing. this of course, cannot be explained.

s. called it his "chicken soup" experience.