I recently found, quite by accident, a few words I wrote on December 2nd, 2006, one day after the event of liberation, if that is the right way to say it. I have no memory of writing any of this. It is fairly disjointed, and it seems to have been written all at once, around 9:45 AM. You may, or may not, find it interesting...
December 2nd, 2006 9:45 AM
I continue to carry this complete emptiness wherever I go. It is an odd sensation. But the mind is not devoid of sound; the music is still there.
I have this feeling I am not really here. Or perhaps it is infinite space, penetrating everything. No longer is there a distinction between anything.
If I focus on an object or person, I can penetrate to the very essence of the thing. There are no longer any secrets, and any idea of a mystery of life has disappeared along with the person holding the idea.
There is an extreme warmness in the chest area; an amazing warmth in the heart. As I walk along the streets, I can reach out with some invisible hand and touch everything. Penetrate everything. I can see another person and feel their entire emotional history; the fear, the pain, and doubt, but also the love, joy, and the happiness.
This living is all cosmos.
At every moment I feel quite on the verge of exploding. It is tremendous.
I feel a tremendously important answer rushing toward me, but I have no way of knowing the question. Maybe that is the way this is supposed to be. Everything rushes to greet me, but there is no one here to meet it.
The wind blows today, as it does everyday, but the being it touches is different from yesterday.
You are the wind. Go and breathe life into this world.
There is no life here as it is known in the mind. This transcends all of that. It is beyond any idea of life and death, and is free to...
...and that is how it ends.
I have no idea what happened after this. I seem to have lost - or misplaced - a significant amount of time.
Most likely, this was written in a seating area at Shaw's supermarket in Boston, Massachusetts, close to the intersection of Commonwealth and Brighton Avenues. I do recall spending time there, reading and writing, and so on.
Re-reading this...I can understand what is being said. But it is odd, because I cannot believe any of it. Dis-interested - maybe that is the right word. It has no real meaning as I sit here typing in Tokyo, Japan. But still, it may be interesting for others to read.