My consciousness has gone through so many changes in recent years. When I think back, I only remember fragments. Fragments of feelings – of perceptions – and situations, all conditioned by the state of my consciousness at that time. Like the archaeologist who deduces only from fragments of two old bones the appearance and the life of a being extinct for millions of years, I look at my changed states of the past. From the outside. Uninvolved. Unconnected. Sometimes guessing what it might have meant at its time. Before the millions of years for which there is no more witness.
It gives me a good feeling. This flowing through – the time? – the being. I feel that no rigid insistence dominates me. That I am not caught in any constriction that forces me to always be exactly like this and not differently.
Yesterday is yesterday and yesterday was different. And yesterday was true and right, just as today is.
I do not know what will happen to me. Isn’t that beautiful? Isn’t that freedom? Isn’t that surrender and liberation?
So much has changed in my consciousness in the last weeks on the journey. Quite insidiously. Imperceptibly. And in a very different way than expected. Much more painful. Much more grinding. Much more fire that burns off everything that has been handed down. And much purer and much more luminous.