THE TRIANGULAR WINDS
OF CHANGE

Point One: The Vibration of Sound, or The Word


Woke up to a death. Tiny symbols of destruction and decay swarmed before and in my eyes forming patterns like a voodoo design caught in a kaliedoscope. When I breath the air does not run through me but it is as if I am rushing with it, though I am without apparant movement. A still stream of energy.

I could not feel my body at all. There was a vast cool void where my chest should have been and I felt if I resided anywhere it was in this nothingness. I felt naseau, but no connection to this sickness and when I sat up I found the body to be unbelievably light and massless. A thought that I could levitate, if I so desired.

I turn on the light as if that could chase my fear of this process away and though it dissolves the visions it only intensifies the sensations. As the nauseau persists I am aware that it is not of the stomach but of my fear and that I must cast this fear away if I am ever to be well.

A calm chaos, but a disorder none-the-less. A gentle violence that cannot harm me but which continues to alarm me. With a lucidity of which I have never encountered I realize that I must go beyond love and all its attachments if I am to be fully without this fear. This is not an easy action for me for the roots of love are the fattest and most life sucking of any I have encountered. This does not involve a dissolution of "love" but just the opposite. I need to stop "feeling" love, to become it.

The pain is intense though again there is a feeling that it does not really belong to me. I am neither above or below my body nor am I in it. I cannot pinpoint where I am or if I really exist at all except that this pen scratches the symbols that I will. But there is no meaning and I feel an exhaustion which is immeasurable. I begin to feel my head and my neck and a heaviness with is apparant but again, I wonder whose head and limbs these truly are. Something runs through my bowels and there is a screeching sound outside my window. The sound of painful, hurtful movement. A groan that emanates from an open mouth only to find itself unembodied and with less strength than the wind. It looks at itself and finds nothing but invisibility.

The vibration of sound needs immense power to move objects and yet it needs very little to be heard.

--Celine

Note: please excuse the roughness of this post.