If the doors of perception
everything would appear
to man as it is, infinite.
For man has closed himself up,
till he sees all things
through narrow chinks
of his cavern.*
I noticed it was challenging to completely disassociate myself from my feelings; for one thing we were in regular contact through a mutual client; for another her image would pop unexpectedly in my mind sometimes when I was meditating and occasionally in the lull between sleep and awakening. It was not that I was trying to think about her, it was more like a moth drawn to a flame and once the thought was there it was difficult to let it go. When we met there was no awkwardness, if fact I imagined I could feel an energy between us that was difficult to shake off. I found myself convinced that she had some feelings for me. It felt so strong that one morning after she showed up in my meditation, I asked her if she was sure about how she felt. This drew an irate response as she accused me of trying to invade her energy field; ironically I had shown up in a dream she had the same morning. It was all a bit much; I felt out of my depth and was relieved to be heading out of town for a ski trip.
I was going CAT skiing in Revelstoke, a town about six hours drive from Vancouver. (Cat skiing has nothing to do with domestic felines; it is transportation by a tracked vehicle to access fields of pristine powder.) My trip took me over a high mountain pass across the Coast Mountains; the road was relatively deserted and it was a comfortable drive on a clear, dark night. Then something strange occurred. Suddenly I imagined myself transported and I was observing the object of my desire contemplating changing her mind and going out with me. Our thoughts seemed connected, somewhat like the Vulcan mind meld from Star trek; I began to feel tears rolling down my cheeks; not tears of sadness rather they were related to a sense that I had no control over my future life; I had a sense that my life was going to change but I had no influence on the direction it would take. Then into my emotion intruded a strange comfort, a sense that was I being looked after and no matter what happened the result would be positive. This feeling was so palpable that I recall glancing over my shoulder to see if someone had mystically been parachuted into the back seat. I had no idea what to make of it; was this just the delusion of a lovesick mind? I felt very alone; I had no one with whom to share this experience; yet I was also intrigued, had I had a psychic encounter? Was such a thing possible?
For the next week I tried not to dwell on the memory, I had a wonderful week skiing however my curiosity haunted me like a powerful dream. Had this actually happened? I realized that there was only one way to put it to rest, I needed to connect with her but I was worried about the reception I would get. I called and left a message but got no reply. Finally in some desperation I left her a detailed message explaining what I had experienced and asking if she could put me out of my confusion by at least telling me if these were solely delusions of a deranged mind. Finally we spoke and the conversation was to say the least “strained”. She made it clear that she did not want to have any further conversations about our spiritual connection. “But can’t you tell me if I just made this all up,” I pleaded. I can still recall the combination of fear and excitement that her response created in me. “No you didn’t but that’s all I am going to say.” It is hard to describe my reaction. It was as though I had received a glimpse into a possibility that I had never even imagined. What did this say about energy, consciousness and human interaction? It felt quite overwhelming. Had I been looking at life through one of those narrow chinks that William Blake references? Was this an unexpected opening to the infinite? The foundations of my reality were quavering like aspens in a breeze, yet my exploration was just beginning.
* William Blake from his poem The Marriage of Heaven and Hell