If I reduce an image to a line, and an experience to an image what is left?
Memories of a traveller
It was a warm April, heat rose from the Tarmac and warmed my shins above my boot laces. I don’t remember what I had for dinner that day, mostly I ate brown rice with gravy. A list of smells remind me of this event and of details I may have otherwise forgotten:
A newly lit cigarette
Shake n’ Vac
Badedas Bath Foam
Meditation was new to me, I had been practicing for around 6 months when a normal session changed me. On about the third track of an Enigma album I felt a loosening, a kind of thinning of the atmosphere before noticing I had left my body. Floating upwards through the metal ceiling, into the loft space, through the roof, up, up, up. I decided to visit my grandmother, Daisy, a kind of revenant representation of me moves through the sky toward Warley Gap looking for her. When I arrived she was sleeping in the dorm beyond the dayroom where we usually visited, looking at her from above she was peaceful and small. The ward was quiet and I am relieved that my dark ideas of the asylum at night are incorrect. Time changes.
Pulsing photons, electromagnetic existences and molecular forms mimic my shape, nothing ties me to my corporeal twin, I feel her but even the idea of a ‘her’ is unreal. The energy is sustaining me, there is time now to visit somewhere else so unconstrained, I am passing through and into another layer of matter and this is where explanations become poor.
There are clusters of energy that form into representations of plants, pulsing forms, colours, flowing and beating. Everything here is joined, waves flow around as breath and visual forms are connections to the visceral. The electromagnetic spectrum, aggregate.
At the end of the music I am immediately back. I met Mr Joe after and asked him if anything like that had ever happened to him? Yes, but no. He had risen out of his body but became trapped in the eaves of his room, spinning around and around. We walked around until the early hours but my feet would not touch the ground properly, I felt the tarmac repelling me, a very slight cushion of air under me. Since then the energy is felt, always.
Once a day walks seem to be getting longer and longer, I have noticed the smell of blossom this year seems stronger, the sounds more exquisite and our silences more comfortable.