Sell your intelligence and buy bewilderment; Intelligence is mere opinion, bewilderment is intuition.

(Rumi)

It all started in a very subtle way. Or perhaps, I imagined everything, in these last times of life. It is a glimpse of a presence, that peeks out of all spaces. She looks at me from the points of view of others, or I look at her from myself, and think that it is me looking at myself from the points of view of others. It manifests out of the blue, like when going down a step or looking at a star at night. At that instant, it seemed that all my life and circumstances became transparent, and I could clearly see the continuum of events and scenes, accumulated in the disorganized drawers of my memory over so many years.

Characters from the past appeared, as if by magic, either to tie or untie entanglements. Moments of memory that seemed to be designed to share a little love with those we always had loved, but at the time we did not show it to them. Also, people who I never really met made their apparition again as to balance something left out of equilibrium.

One could feel these friendly voices, deep inside, whispering, advising, with traits of humor and mischief, love and beauty, teaching, teaching, always teaching, how not to fall off the bike, like so many times one did. It is like an open secret that sings in absolute silence once in a while to everyone. It spills through our eyes in images, or in thoughts and showers of words, within a deep silence, hidden behind the sleeping world, all framed by the majestic and immense universe, as it illuminates, sounds, turns, bounces, lives, evolves and sings all the time an ancient song, which we have forgotten, even though we are always singing it.

Yes, it is one of those moments of defragmentation of experience, when one perceives in simultaneity all the information accumulated within oneself, and about the surfaces, composition, and content of everything detected with the senses, and our inner awareness combined. When one can see everything as vibrating as continuum, a system, a pulsating ocean, rather than isolated drops streaming down a glass window.

Sometimes this generates anxiety, impatience, and fear, but most times it is a joyfully inebriating feeling to witness, albeit for an instant, that pervasive song, that radiance behind all scenes, flooding from all parts of the inner and outer world, congregated in all points, interweaving fine silk and excrement, light and dark. Altogether, forming a beautiful tapestry of possibility, of flesh, blood, atom, light, and consciousness. That tapestry of music, of opportunities for love and forgiveness. That manifestation of Being, called life.

This life always seems to be directed by what one believes oneself to be, and by one's actions and reactions, by the many impulses and moments manifested. But sometimes, for reasons one does not understand, hiatuses arise, spaces of absence, of those beliefs one believes oneself to be, while consciousness remains, pure, without any identification, or agenda, just a consciousness of Being. And then, you get a glimpse from that point, of the context where you were, when you were tied to your ID, of the others with whom you habitually interact, and see the context that surrounds you, and it all seems like a movie, like a dream, particularly, when others relate to you, without realizing that you are out of the stage. At such moments, one gets the strange feeling that that everything is actually oneself, manifested in multitudes.

But how do you explain that to yourself, yes, to the person you think you are, and to others? I don't know. It scares me as an identified character, to lose my identification, and with it perhaps my perceived essence of being. But then we know for sure, one of the only things we know for sure, that all the forms that you interact with do die, that others die, and that you die. In other words, all those performances and actors and settings fade away and others emerge, and although each one is very particular, all this living is just a passing episode.

But at that instantaneous point, when you are aware of just being you're devoid of identification and you don't have an agenda or timeframe, just a being aware of being aware. I'm writing these notes, for the sake of those who at some point find themselves in a similar situation, to tell them that, it seems, there is plot in the fable, a particular unfolding of the story, that is very well threaded, despite being absolutely unprecedented and spontaneous. And what's more, that it's all incredibly extraordinary and wonderful, and that our role playing is seemingly essential to the One being that just Is.

Sometimes in the morning, I read some messages from Meher Baba, and I remember meeting those who knew him and loved him, and followed him as their own life, and I feel that his messages make everything clear, and that we all are undergoing a moment of transition, through this performance as I and me, to arrive at an understanding that cannot be understood, an embrace without arms, the deepest moment of always love.

For a few instants beyond all words and thoughts you are wafted there. Then the senses come back, the space/time, and the mind. And instantly we forget the instant of being, Being, and become again distracted with these identity documents of body and personality. All memories fly then, like birds at sunset on the seashore, with no known direction, they only fly, so many moments, so many stars, anguish, desires, frustrations, joys, so much heart, so many words. They all swirl invisibly, in the infinite recesses of the mind. And the instantaneous calm is disturbed, as fires are fanned by the breezes of what one thinks we were, blowing on what we still think we are; this transitory character experiencing the elements.

And there goes, in shambles, the calm of that instantaneous timeout, of that brief existential serenity. Swept in whirlwinds of memories, in tidal waves of sensations, all referred to this wonderful little temporal space that our egos occupy, in this vast ocean of universe.

But it is, I believe, in those moments of calm, that we all experience at some point, that we can create resonance between us, when we recognize that intimate essence of being within all, that we can really feel solidarity with each other. Yes, only when we can share the pain or the happiness of the other, or when together we feel nostalgia or wonder, beholding the mysterious and ever-present love that lives in our hearts, only then, without thinking or analyzing, can we realize the true beauty of life. Beauty, that is, that love which has always been sought, and never lost, that is the very root of Being. And those instants, when we intuit that we really are together, there is celebration, in our momentarily awake hearts, and we dance in whirls like atoms, electrons, planets, and angels. We dance in the immense joy of that love of always, which has no diminishment, and which feeds itself with the fragility that constitutes its invulnerability.

One must contact the ocean of unfading bliss within and be free of the limiting duality of "I" and "you", to unveil the perennial spring of imperishable sweetness which is within each and all.

(Meher Baba)