VISITS INTO THE REAL REALITY Writing 4
I don't know why, but the door was there. I entered through it and stepped into a dense fog. I couldn't see my feet. I waited for several minutes. Then, it lightened up. I got the impression of hectic movements as if fighting was going on. I didn't like that idea so I pretended not to see it. But then the fog really lifted from under up and at first I saw hundreds of feet and legs moving rapidly, uncoordinated. They shone like gold.
When the air became clear, I saw hundreds of people seemingly engaged in one gigantic battle. Maybe it was more like fencing. They were not more than a few hundred feet away. I could see them clearly; they all looked the same. They were wearing some sort of armor like soldiers in ancient times; the segments of it were also shining like gold.
I walked closer. Their heads, arms, hands, feet, everything was covered. In their hands they held something like a sword or laser rod. They attacked with those but the 'weapons' did not clash or make a sound. They went right through whatever they touched. Actually, there was no sound at all. There was an eerie silence. They all seemed completely absorbed in whatever they did. What that was totally escaped me. Everyone was equally engaged in this fighting. I noticed it was not just one on one. They kept turning to each side and around and seemed to aim at everyone that came close.
I watched this for a while, not seeing any pattern in the movements or any result of all this striking. Then one of them, without stopping his action, suddenly took off his 'helmet' and waved at me to get my attention. When he did, he greeted me with a big friendly smile. He put back on his helmet and the melee continued for perhaps fifteen minutes.
Then, without any warning, as by magic, it stopped. People started to take off their helmets and to socialize with each other, both one on one and in groups. Those closest to me acknowledged my presence with friendly nods and polite greetings.
The one who had waved at me came over and I now recognized him. It was the 'leader' of the multitude I had seen on my left during one of my first visits. (I really hate to use the word 'son' for him. Circumstances then, when he came into being, were so different. For one, this time I asked for access to this dimension. Previously, coming here just happened. I still feel embarrassed by the mere thought of him being 'related' to me.)
He looked handsome, lively, self-assured; he is a bit taller than I am. I was eager to hear what they were doing. It turned out that he was very willing to fill me in.
"This is an important activity of our society. As you see, we engage in a physical encounter. They are hundred times more intriguing, complicated and varied than it may look to you. It is a never-ending thrill for us to create new moves, perfect the ones we know and show off the ingenuity of the varied ways of exploring space, closeness and power."
He shone with enthusiasm. "It is a great game. Why? Well, it is exciting to feel and express, or you could say, honor the strength of our bodies and minds and show off to the whole universe and to I AM that it is endlessly awesome to be strong, to challenge, to be beautiful, alive and that forever."
I felt sympathy and almost pity for him that he tried so hard to explain to me what still did not make any sense.
I asked, "What about the not-so-strong-ones, do they lose the game?"
"Oh, no! Nobody wins or loses. That is something of your world, I heard. I do not understand that concept. It is magnificent to discover new moves, try them out, see others do it and feel currents of pure energy getting shape and direction. It is about showing off our skills together, about feeling the life force rejoicing when we connect. It is exhilarating to put our physical person on the line without any reservation. We are all different in skill, so everybody plays the game his or her way.
I brought up the golden shine and why they had to protect themselves with that armor.
He laughed, "Here, feel it."
It felt like velvet.
"It is not made of material that exists by itself. It is a condensed form of energy, joy and playfulness. It materializes for the occasion. The golden glow is a reflection of the superb quality of engaging each other in this power dance. It is very erotic, creative and deeply gratifying." He read my thoughts. "No, we do not keep scores. No winners as in your sports. It is, indeed, a bit like fencing. We do it for the elegance and the intrigue. We all excel as equal partners."
"What else are you occupied with?" I asked.
"We talk about what we did; analyze it, you would say. We learn and laugh a lot."
"And then? You have your own house to go to?"
"Yes and no. We do not have private homes like Achmed's family. (He evidently knew my whereabouts.) During our 'play' time we may find partners with whom we hook up and continue the joy of sparring in an even more intimate way. The houses we have are not communal ones; we just use whichever one is available. There are enough around; otherwise, we erect new ones."
I commented on the fact that I had seen women in the group.
He told me that for them, too, this lifestyle was attractive. They love this masculine action that involves the whole person.
I asked how all this 'glorifies' I AM.
What I understood of his answer was that by going all out in something as serious as playful engaging, they portrayed that aspect of I AM that showed Her/His interactive-with-everything nature.
He said, "You did not see it, but at times we just stand still."
"Yes. Then we challenge each other with our mind," he laughed. "We put up our psychic powers against each other. It is sensational to connect by sparring that way. It often leads to making love. For both parties it is a manifestation of the beauty of being an individual and, yet, wanting to test someone else's space."
"But it does not lead to marriage?" I insinuated.
He happily said, "We are all in a state of marriage. We're happy with each other. Nobody lets the other one down in any way, ever. And our enjoyment is always mutual."
He added, "By the way, do you notice that I know about your world of sports? Because of you, I have been doing a lot of catching up on your world. But I only understand activities that somehow relate to our world here. I mean, there must be some genuine joy and purity in competing, don't you think?"
He then asked if I wanted to see other activities of his segment of the human society.
I did, and before I knew it I witnessed an ocean of bodies rolling over each other. Again, I had not the faintest idea what they were doing. All were dressed in something greenish. It looked a bit like wrestling, except that everybody seemed to roll over and wrestle with whoever was closest. Like in rugby, they jumped on each other and then fell on the ground. So weird! I had the impression that they were all women.
After a while, one of them came up to us, greeted us and said that it was so nice that we had come to visit them. It was a woman with long hair and eyes that seemed to look right through me.
"I can see that you have no clue about what we are doing," she said. "Well, you just came from the game that defines individual boundaries in a masculine way. It portrays standing up for the sanctity of space. In our engaging here we use nothing but ourselves. And there is no holding back. You see we are all over each other. No restrictions, no forbidden zones. Not one move or touch is the same. But, of course, the intricacies of it escape you. Take it from me that our inspiration comes from wanting to show I AM how exhilarating being in existence feels. We challenge everybody to take us on and show with us the liveliness of unrestricted energy and availability. It is so creative."
"You don't get tired after a while?" I wondered.
"No," she said. "No external forces limit what we can do. I know it is different for you. It is energy from within us that regulates the fluctuations in our performance. We know when to stop. But our commitment to this lifestyle always provides new and exciting impulses."
"Is it exciting to keep rolling over other people and throwing each other around?" I skeptically commented.
"Well," she said, "think of your favorite game of soccer. When you score a goal, is that not a moment that transcends all other sensations of the game in joy, pride and fulfillment? Well, that short-lived moment is for us the 'normal' plateau on which we play the game of being in life together."
I changed the subject. "What else do you do? You have a family? A home? Hobbies? Do you produce anything?"
She seemed confused for a moment.
More to herself than to me she said, "What is more glorious than being able to physically show and act out being alive? No, we have no family. We are a family. We are in love with each other. Well, for you it perhaps is better to say that love inspires all our touching and engaging."
I grinned, "It sounds like life for you is a full-fledged orgy."
"But it is!" she cried. "It is our self-chosen profession. It is the space in which we live, our home. Oh, we have moments that we sit together and silently embrace. That is another beautiful way of feeling our own and each other's power."
"Why the green outfits?" I asked. They didn't remind me of any dress I have seen before. It seems a hodgepodge of pieces of clothing, all with that greenish hue. "Do they ever have to be washed?" (I felt such an outsider.)
She only mentioned that the green I saw showed the effect of all the throwing and rolling around.
I shook my head. Do I have to understand this?
She asked if I wanted to see another sport.
I really had had enough, but agreed nevertheless.
So now, we are in an area filled with groups, each of perhaps a hundred people. They stand in wide circles, watching a few persons running around within the circle. Their clothes are white, except the middle part. That has a color that seems to flash from within them. In one group, it is different shades of green. In another, blue. I also saw yellow and something red. Later I was told that the colors served not to distinguish one group from another but that they represented emotions and levels of participation.
The runners within the circles were not just going in one direction. Sometimes they suddenly stopped and turned around. Others followed a left-to-right-and-then-back pattern. There clearly was no competition in terms of speed.
After a while, one of the runners left his circle and came up to the three of us. It was a fairly old man, white beard and all. I was aware I was looking at him inquisitively, as I myself can be considered old. He said to me what I had heard before, "Yes, I am old, because I know a lot. That shows. Especially with you!" He added, "I can look young, too, because I can still learn."
He explained some of this running in the circles and the erratic patterns that were actually extremely intricate and inspiring to those watching, as were subtle body movements I hadn't even noticed. Every part of the 'show' was in the process of being refined while it occurred. It all was an offering to I AM.
"How?" I asked.
"Well, it is our way of expressing the joy of being alive. The pattern you could not follow points at internal layers in everything around. You are not yet aware of those. The circles have to do with mirroring the all-dimensional oneness in spirit, and the subtle movements portray the unstoppable quivering of life being alive. The running is an expression of the creative energy that is just too happy to sit still. When a runner stops or changes direction, it is because on his or her inner level a new vision is seen. We experience that we are a continuous display of I AM's ever moving nature. We show the harmony in the multi-verse with its ever moving parts. Acting that out is so fulfilling."
I guess he must have picked up that absolutely nothing of what he said made any sense to me. It went straight over my head. But fortunately, he didn't say anything about it.
I asked him how he saw I AM. As a human being?
He didn't say anything, but I got the impression he affirmed it. I then, rather stupidly I think now, asked if I AM as he saw Him/Her, was dark or blue-eyed.
He immediately put me in my place by saying, "Both. I AM is everything."
(I still don't know why I followed up with another dumb question.) "She/He is your friend, right? I wonder if people here need one?"
He did not answer.
I tried to hide my panic inside, feeling so inadequate.
Since he didn't say anything, I frantically thought of how to change the subject.
"I have seen three games, but how many are there?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Ten? Thousand? A trillion?
I guess my 'son' who had stayed in the background with the woman wanted to end this conversation and save me from more embarrassment. He commented that I probably knew already that numbers, the way I use them, are invalid. Only the number one has meaning as it indicates the source and content of all existence. All that exists is proud and grateful to be included in that number. What I call numbers are reflections, colors, mirrors, explanations of the One Who is All, the I AM, One Holy.
I said that I figured that tomorrow I would see the world I had seen behind me some time ago with my alter egos in it, as now I have seen in some detail the ones that were to my right and left.
"That is what you think," my 'son' said.