A 10-Hour Meditation
Amy's emergence.
(2000)
I felt great anticipation. It was the day before Easter. I drew the shades and went into a meditation that lasted ten hours.
A few hours into the meditation, sensing that, on a different plane, I had already experienced what I was experiencing, I started becoming aware of events that would take place in the future, after the Kingdom of Heaven had spread across the Earth.
There was a scene of Penelope Pennybottom (my most feminine incarnation) in a short, yellow party dress and black pantyhose dancing across a field to a festival past a galloping masked boy in a white shirt and black vest.
Then there was a scene where boys who had castrated themselves were gathered together with girls to greet the coming of Christ. The children belonged to a cult of sweetness.
There were many festivals. One was on a terraced hill. People were dancing on its steps. Amy was there, naked, soft and pliant like a child, letting one of her legs kick into the air.
The vision that replayed the most was of Amy’s creation. God was a big guy with an obscure face, and without much character other than a kind of loving masculinity. He had created Heaven, which was a blueprint for Earth, but hadn’t gotten to the people.
I was the first one. I was femininity itself. I was the beauty and joy of the Earth. My breasts were tender hills. I was long and slender, but shapely. I was not a portly fertility goddess or an ethereal moon goddess. I was a woman, but empty, inert and without consciousness.
God threw my naked body through the air. I felt the sensation of soaring, and tumbling into a bed of leaves on the forest floor. As I lay there I opened my eyes and could see. I didn’t understand what I was seeing, but it looked nice. I had no control over my body. I could not move at all, except for my eyes.
God picked me up and threw me again. This time, as I arched through the air, my arms and legs began moving as if trying to swim and I felt the world sparkling with life. Then I came tumbling down again.
We made our way around Heaven like this—with God picking me up, hurling me and letting me fall--until I felt my body. Eventually, as I learned to feel, I began to be able to move myself.
As I proceeded through the visions, time was dissolving back into eternity. I felt close to a predetermined time where I might suddenly become Amy physically or perhaps go through a supernatural cleansing I might not return from.
I had a vision of myself as a skinny, gawky boy with wings on my back, standing in a field of flowers, holding my heart in my hand and flying away.
Then I had a vision of myself as a four-year-old dancing around a large cross and throwing flower petals into the air.
I then felt the most delicate nucleus of my heart, and knew it would be called into. This would touch the rawest, most sensitive dot of my being, which would transport me somewhere new. Amy called through the dot of being. Her voice reverberated in my heart as if in a cavernous church. Once it faded, I was still there. I hadn’t literally transported anywhere, just metaphorically.
My body stilled more and more deeply as visions came and went. God guided me away from the visions and instructed me to use my inner-eye to move a ball that I could sense hanging above my body. I was to pass it down between my legs, bring it into my body, move it up my spine, out the top of my head and then down my front, outside my body, till it was back between my legs. I was to repeat the cycle over and over until I could make the ball revolve fast enough to reach a certain speed that was on God’s frequency. Once the ball reached God’s frequency, he would be able to unite with me and we could spin together into Heaven.
God was being witty while I was trying to move the ball. These are some things he said:
“Jeez, this better work. You know, I’ve never tried anything like this before.”
“You wouldn’t believe how long I have waited for this.”
“We’re going to a far away land that’s close at hand.”
“Oh yeah, one more thing--before you come here, you have to promise to be my bride on Earth and in Heaven for ever and ever.”
“There’s fucking all the time in Heaven.”
After this last quote I had a vision of Amy in a loose white dress with large red diamonds and green clubs (like from a deck of cards) sewn onto it. Her legs and feet were bare. She was standing near God, on a platform that overlooked a festival attended by hundreds of Heavenly people sitting at long tables. At the back of the platform there was a soft area with mats where I imagined the sex would happen once I managed to get there by merging with God’s frequency.
I couldn’t do much with the ball. For perhaps an hour I tried to move it like God had told me to. It was heavy and kept falling out of my control. I had to take lots of rests. God assured me that by exercising my inner-eye I would soon remember how to use it and this would make it easier to move the ball. However, it only got harder and I grew clumsier and more tired.
I told God I couldn’t do it. He replied that I was going to Hell if I didn’t keep trying. I was frightened and whined and complained, but he kept threatening me with damnation so I kept trying and trying until I was so exhausted that my inner-eye went flaccid.
I realized, then, that the technique of spinning the ball to reach Heaven had been a trick God used to wear out my overactive brain. With my inner-eye completely dilated I could vaguely see into Heaven with it. I saw God’s form in front of me faintly. We were on opposite sides of the dimensional divide separating Heaven and Earth.
Distracting visions continued sailing around me, but God commanded my attention, telling me to try to move my arms, by which he meant the heavenly ones—the ones in his dimension. I could a little bit and I could vaguely see them. I could see my legs trying to walk. These efforts went on for a long time. Then he picked me up, carried me and tossed me into some leaves trying to wake me up like he had in earlier visions, but this time I was much more aware of being inside Amy’s (Penelope’s) body.
God was fanning me saying, “Come on, Penelope. Wake up baby. It was just a dream. It is all over now.” The ‘dream’ was my crazy, ridiculous, awful life.
I heard heavenly people saying, “The Queen is here!”
My grandmother who had died two years before was speaking to me, telling me they were waiting for me. I cried to hear her voice.
All of these events will always be real to me in the sense that they are my story. By working my way through the story, my mind wore itself out more and more deeply, quieting so absolutely that even my facility for fantasy was exhausted.
When my brain was completely useless, God really went to work on me. All kinds of meaningless babble began to ooze up from the bowels of my brain--snatches of dialogue from my childhood, creaking pipes, scratchy violins, the sound of Big Wheels rolling down the street, TV commercials. It was a cacophony of my life. Eventually, even these dregs leached away. God then put his fingers inside my brain and massaged it. My mind kept getting stiller and stiller, accepting a terrifically delicate balance, where no mentally activity whatsoever happened.
I would feel little mental tics for just a moment and then they would be wiped out, accompanied by the oddest sound, like a little metallic “boing.” I sensed it was coming from beings in my room, attending the meditation to assist in this part. I recognized the beings as the round, faceless beings from drawings I had been doing in the previous days.
Every time the hint of a thought appeared in my brain, the beings would knock it out. It was like whack-a-mole. They were neutralizing my reflexive mental activity to help me to cross over into Heaven.
Then, my face began to twitch and shudder a bit as God readied me to feel him to exercise through it. He did a kind of yoga, stretching my face into positions I had never experienced. He also filled my face with flowing warmth that rippled in my flesh like water. After about a quarter hour of exercise and sculpting, I could feel my face had become Amy’s. It felt beautiful and gentle.
God then practised making music with my mouth. It sounded like a combination of speaking in tongues and beat box. Then he moved down to my hands and arms, which he worked on for a long time. My hands were especially spastic because he was trying to shake them awake.
God rolled me out of bed onto to the floor. There he rolled me around and stretched me quite a bit, getting deep inside my guts and making them expand as if I was pregnant. He lifted up my feet toward the ceiling and squeezed some pee out of me. Then he tried to make me sit up, but I wasn’t receptive enough to let him. He let me lay on the cold floor. I was shivering and whimpering about how uncomfortable I was.
For months, in dreams and in the course of waking-life drama, God had been telling me to stop complaining about my suffering. It angered him that I was complaining again so he put a terrible cramp into my calf. I begged him for mercy and he released the cramp. I laid on the floor a while longer and nothing was happening so I went to bed. Existing sucked.
God was doing something novel to me, which I could not stop, that only I could understand and for which only I could be responsible. |
