The first time I've recorded, at length, any account of Nirvana (an e-mail response to an inquiry)

As always, no apologies are necessary.

Your message has left me with much to think of - specifically, the ordering of my thoughts regarding the experience and how it has altered me. I am still, a year or more later, bewildered by what I encounter when I begin to delve in to the bits of decipherable memory that I have relating to the experience.

I began this message intending to tell you that I would not, in this message, include anything regarding the Nirvanic experience, because, to relate anything relevant would take time and - necessarily - a more pure- and balanced-than-usual state of mind from which I would be able to recount what remains so elusive. Maybe I'll get somewhere if I just begin, though.

I don't expect the following to be easy to read. I intend to let go and let something else guide this. I'm helpless to sort it out.

Note: I use the term "Nirvana" because I believe it to be the most accurate, currently-existing and widely recognized attempt to define what it is that I experienced. What I experienced cannot be labeled or directly described; it is so simple and profound as to defy language the ability to address it - as I have done since realizing the absolute, infinite and nothing, I attempt to describe its context, to illuminate something that indicates it; all of these attempts themselves are bound to be incomplete, or failures. I attempt to describe a ball bearing using only Legos; Legos being words, the ball bearing being Nirvana - the One Truth that is the Beginning and the End and the flesh of all that lies between, nothing.

I do not recall the transition in to or out of Nirvana. My initial Nirvanic experience was catalyzed by my realization of the nature of a specific love that I had at the time, and of the implications of what I came to know of the nature of love and awareness as a result of this enlightenment. I do not recall how long I remained Nirvana, but I do know that - in the period of time immediately following the experience - I described it as having lasted three weeks; I don't know what reference I used to come to that conclusion. I was able to return, at will, to that state; each time following the first time, though, I soon felt an entropy, a sort of gravity associated with my being in a human state, that drew me away from the purity that my awareness had become. I didn't get "too far" away, and I returned several times. I persisted in returning to Nirvana (again, I do not recall the transition to or from), and would be bewildered upon finding myself as a human again, and consumed with the need to know why I continued to return to my impure state of being. Finally, one time soon after returning, I sensed (as a resonation, an echo from some place unfathomable - the awareness I'd just returned from), that the reasons for my return were these: I knew that such peace would be granted me again, though perhaps not until my death; in being blessed beyond blessing in having been granted the experience of such, I was more desperate to share the respite I had been granted than I was to cling to it myself - there is no room for doubt, or anything else, when in that state; I knew that my returning was purposeful. I'm human again, though, and I often long to be what I became.

The experience.. the experience was oneness. Purity. Balance. Wholeness. Everything. Nothing. I no longer knew "I". I no longer had an identity separate from being; I was all; there was no "I"; there was no frontier between "me" and awareness, and I experienced everything, was aware of everything. My awareness was as a sphere; the sphere encompassed all that is and was contained within all that is; my human senses blended with or were insignificant within or were lost in the face of awareness of everything. I was everything; every particle and bit of gravitational force exerted, the flow of time, an ocean of emotion and all other potentiality, tranquility - and I was none of these things, because each of these things is specific - I knew only all, and only each (as each is all; there was no each and another; each thing existed purely, as did everything, as One). I was my awareness; my awareness was pure knowledge, without discernment or desire. All that was, is, and will be Is. The beginning of Everything is the beginning of each thing, is the beginning and end of time and dimensionality. All things exist within the same point; the discernment, the recognition of a thing as separate from another, occurs only in awareness - outside of perception, difference does not exist. I knew myself to be The Self, Jesus, Buddha, every awareness in existence. I am you are me.

During the times that I was returning and peering through my human self, like falling into a kaleidoscope, I was aware of my Self existing in a dimensionally different plane. My human senses were like a finger puppet on my awareness.

I've found descriptions I've better liked while pondering the experience, but they've only existed in my mind; I've not recorded one, yet. I am not, and may not while in this form be, able to do so.


I didn't know what a Bodhisattva was, or that the term existed, until months after my final return; I was desperate to discern my purpose, the specific reason for what I am and, what I experienced. I remembered and was unable to doubt the purpose of my return, but I wanted to see, to know what lay ahead. I was relieved (the human that I am accustomed to being craves affirmation) to hear the term and its definition - "Aha! That MUST be it... yep, that's me, I stand on this side of the threshold to enlightenment, endeavoring to light the way for others." Maybe it's so.. but I do not believe that I can be such a guide while endeavoring to be such a guide. I need to practice finding peace, so that my purpose might find me (or be no longer camouflaged amidst my swirling thoughts and emotions).

I am in limbo. I am in a state of indecision. How "best" to go about fulfilling this? I do not feel a specific "calling," drive, or impulse. Hence my surrendering the reigns to my human brain, keeping my spiritual senses alert and frequently asking for guidance, as I feel none, or to return to that place so that I might reemerge with some idea of the direction in which I "should" go; in the absence of such a specific goal, though, I live within the moment - ever ready, faithful, and patient. I falter, at times; I am prone to doubt; doubt is the first flaw (impurity) that I manifest, and it sustains itself and spreads. I am aware of the nature of this doubt, though - at least, I think I am; I do not know what its purpose is, except to render me so able to empathize and to understand.

I have two daughters in Seattle. I intend to return there and be an involved father. I'll "hang myself" with a regular job, if I see nothing else more fit to do. I know that I am incapable of discerning on my own the best course of action, as I exist as a single molecule in the ocean of existence - my human perspective is finite and biased. I remain alert and seeking - and then, in case my seeking thwarts the goal of its effort, I stop seeking and coast. I'm bewildered to be here, as a human. My temporal awareness has not been the same since Nirvana. I don't understand how it is that I remain attached to this body. I am constantly aware of the absolute, the infinite, that which cannot be related or transcribed or encompassed by an awareness that is confined to this plane. Walking about, living within what lies in between - this, time, up, down, better, worse, all that is finite and discernible - I cannot consolidate the two, the infinite and the finite; yet, I am aware of each.

I trust, though, that I am not able to "screw this up." Even in the moments of my greatest distress over not knowing, I am certain that I am on the "right" path. I am incapable of introducing doubt into what Nirvana wrote upon my consciousness in a manner that transcends mere memory - an indelible, indescribable, complete representation of The Truth.

I say to what I feel is God, "my will is your will; guide me, I don't have to know or feel benefit; let what I am be what You wish." My will is His will; His will is not my will. I don't label this as "religious" - it can't be; I've seen it all. It is what is. Religion is an imperfect vessel, as language is, as humans are. What is is, and what is is necessary.


I hope some of this is intelligible. I'm shaking. It's weird. I don't think it's time for me to peek, yet. My brain can't take it.


Do I feel that I can gain further enlightenment? I could return. Regarding what I became, though, there is no further to go or more to gain. Nothing exists beside it; it was All, was absolute.



Much of what I've experienced (as it applies to "me," as a person), though it has been new, seems to be merely a new light shed on the same subject - or another perspective of the same subject. My nature has remained the same, only I've come to understand what it is, as it is, rather than evaluating it within the context of my experience and the biases I have learned.

Years ago, when I had a narrower, less complete idea of God (Universe/Existence/One/Everything/Nothing), I told God that I knew that I was filled with doubt, and that - no matter what was granted me - I would continue to doubt until I chose not to. I could "place my fingers into Jesus's wounds," and I would doubt the entire time my digits crossed the distance to the fleshy boundaries - only choice could bring about the transition into faith, into actually encountering the flesh. I asked Him (as I was beginning to believe again, to sense that I had a "higher purpose") to show himself to me; I asked specifically to have a fly land on my finger. In a short while, one did; it remained as I poked it with the finger of my other hand, ignoring the molestation, until I was ready for it to part - I raised my hand up, and it flew off. I asked again, the next day, for the same; again, a fly (a different one - the first was large and old and sluggish, and the second was young and green and fast) landed on my hand; again, it let me poke it until I couldn't stomach my own persistence in doubting. Since then, flies sometimes light on my hand when I ask them to.


Still, I can't make heads or tails of any of this. I meditate. I tell God that I'm His to command, and that I am standing by, ready. I no longer despair. I have been granted a beautiful appreciation of my life, and so much reassurance that I am ashamed for having begged it. I let the shame go, too, though - I accept it as everything I've known, "good" and "bad," and whatever is to come. What was, was; what is, is; what will be, will be; and they each and all are. I may never in this life see my purpose or know that I've served it; I accept that that may be the purpose that I am to serve.


And, outside of meditation, I don't think of it frequently. I release myself to living as spiritual impulse dictates, as I feel I should in each moment. So I live a "normal" life, not awaiting or anticipating doing or becoming more; ever willing, though, to do or become more if I feel called to do or be so. I'd be lying if I said I don't find myself hoping for that something more; I have an answer for the desire, though - whether it occurs or not, perceptibly or not, I am merely what it is that I am. It's all I'm fit to be.