I am on my back. I put my hands down on the thick straw mat a comfortable distance from my sides, palms up. This is where I meditate. Simplicity is the father of discipline.
The ceiling, looking at it from this angle, could be a floor.
I close my eyes. Behind them is not blackness. The room goes away, but there’s still points of vibration in my field of vision. Some of them are red, like pools of water with worms shivering inside of them. Some of these are blue. Or yellow. I stop differentiating the colors. There is only what I see.
I breathe in, like a balloon that fills itself. I let go and my body shoots around the room. Another slow, easy breath and a collapse. After a third, I let my body take the breath itself.
I am the highest point of my head. Mathematically, you can can fit an infinite number of points on the tip of a pin. A straight line is the only distance between two points. There is no limit to the number of lines which can dissect a circle. I become a nomadic colony of circles spilling from my head through the planes of my brain.
A swarm of horsebacked scalplocked cossacks charge snoring through the gluey steppes between throat and nostrils to the foothills of the spine. Rhesus monkeys dance a calypso along the meridians, sailing like swans through channels within my vertebrae. A waterfall. Beavers come floating to the surface of my navel and burrow through the dams in my abdomen. They break into snakes which swallow my ribs all the way back to my spine.
I am liquid light. I splash down to my toes and back up, feeling every edged cornered nerve explode and then implode. And then explode and then implode. Then both at once. I rock from toes to head and head to toe, and finally
my skull, skin, toes, eyes, and everything between evaporates into stars. They twist and turn in some equation which needs no fathoming, to wrap and circle orbits with each other. They sing a silent song with no composer.
Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Body to light. My breath is my body.
My thoughts are spasms in my brain
points of tension
dissolving like puddles
under a magnifying glass.
Whole as the ocean
my blood pumps in full note waves.
The stone is a hole on my floor and I move swirling in.
I am a cyclone funnel pulling in oil-black silence, emptying myself. The silence swishes in my chest, replaces me, and I am uprooted into that cold white stone.
Slowly the body Ramadupa is drained of life and the stone is Ramadupa.
Being a stone is different from being a person. I have done it before. I got this far last week. So excited I sat bolt upright on my mat. So much for projecting. It was frustrating.
My walls are layered cells. Each block holds more blocks holds more blocks but between the blocks are tunnels too small for the naked eye. I exist within those spaces.
This is the problem. I am a little piece of rock, although that rock is the moon the Moon.
I am the Moon.
I am Luna. Naked grey and sterile.
One side always towards the sunfire,
lusting the cool of space,
the other engaging
in a mating dance with the Universe.
My blind sister has her children
I am their goddess.
I shield them from demons
that their mother cannot.
They live on her
but it's me who holds their dreams.
They look to the sky
in the prude duty day
and see only their mother’s clothing
reflecting father’s light.
But in the nudity of night
their minds are free to reach
towards shinings their mother
warns they cannot touch
which turn to dust
I am the brightest
when I am there at all.
with her water
and the bits of sun
I shed myself for the sun.
And I do it again.
Immolation. Immolation. Immolation.
And with the speed of light the Sun swallows me. I am the cold space between Sol and the Moon’s atmosphere just long enough to empty into it. I am fear and then Ra
out into space the eternal sound
of heat and life and joy
the churning stomach heart factory
it takes a million years
for a fleck of my light
and less than a touching beat
for entering form’s digestion
infecting inflecting inspecting
Mercury pulls me free as though to say, “You don’t want to be there, Brother. Don’t you think if it were a good place to be I’d have hopped right on in eons ago? And your mother too? There’s a reason she keeps her distance, you know. Come now, what are you trying to do?” I am Mercury. “You are not me. Quit with that nonsense, little brother. Now, where are you going? I’ll get you there, I swear.”
I fear to wake. “Don’t. You’ve put yourself out pretty deep. You’ll be asleep until old Sol comes to wake you. Now, would you be so kind as to talk to me? Open your eyes. It’s polite. Not only that, but it’s a great view.”
I open my eyes, “I’ve finally done it then?” Light comes flooding in, every color at once.
The light resolves. “Done what?” I walk on shiny thick grey water. No, liquid silver. I look around for the source of the voice. Snakes of molten metal rise at my feet hissing amicably. Their heads circling one another, their bodies merge into the figure of a smiling human. “Is this better?” All but the teeth are shimmering silver. They are the white of bone.
“Yes. I think it is. So I’ve done it then?”
“We’ve said this already. What are you trying to do?”
“Oh, sorry. It’s hard to explain in words.”
“And I thought you were a writer.”
“Not a very good one.”
“That’s not your honest opinion.”
“I’m trying to travel into the future.”
“Well then, you’ve been succeeding at that all your life. You’re succeeding now.”
“I’m trying to travel into the future and then come back.”
“Ah. I see. How exactly do you intend to do this?”
“Well, I thought that with the alignment with the galactic rift and all I could sort of slingshot around that, like Creighton tried to do with the Sun in Farscape, and wind up back in my body in the morning.”
“Crichton wound up going through a wormhole and travelling to the other end of the universe. The science there was way off, as well. But that’s unimportant. Exactly how are you planning to do this?”
“Well, I figured that if I could pass an orbit between this stone I bought and that cosmic yoni at the center of the galaxy, I might be able to go around it at the speed of thought and thus come back maybe three hundred years or so into the future.”
“And the purpose of this is to make money?” Laughter jibbles waves all over the surface.
“The purpose is adventure. Knowledge. Growth.”
“I’m sure it is.” The smile gets bigger. “I think I can help you out.”
“You’re mighty obliging for a Roman god. Don’t I owe you payment?”
“Who do you think I am? Regardless, I help you for the sake of adventure and I will take from you what I want. You won’t know the difference.”
I wonder how Mercury is going to help me. Step one was getting into the stone. Step two was shooting from the stone towards the Moon and slingshotting around it to do the same with Venus and then Mercury and then ride the waves of the Sun past Mars, around Jupiter and the outer planets, building speed and using the stars along the way to the rift in the same way until finally passing around that at the speed of insanity and following the stone which held me back to Earth at unpronounceable speeds.
“That would never work for so many reasons.” I am told. “But if going around the planets gives you enough structure to keep your mind together than more power to you, though I’d apologize to Luna along the way for your misunderstanding of her, if I were you. Also, it’s best you don’t let Mars think you’re weak." I shrug carelessly, "Eh, you’ll figure it out.” Quick as silver I’m swallowed by the surface and I am Mercury, “No you’re not.” and spit out like a cannon ball towards the distance. Where am I going? Faster and faster I’m going. “Cheerio!”