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Writing in Shock

One beneficial result of the September 11 episode is some excellent reflective writing, some reaching deep into the human soul. Here is one of the better examples in a private exchange from a computer engineer who has a universal perspective.

Sent to me by his friend, Marina Zona, formerly of Batterymarch's Soviet Companies Fund, one-time resident in Saudi Arabia and now in California.

I Died in the World Trade Center

Jit (with permission)

Either I woke up from a bad dream or slid into a strange one. Everything and every sensation around me were very mysterious and quite indescribable. Kind of like standing on nothing at all. Everything seemed hazy, mystic, calm and yet full of movement. The movement itself was enchanting and nothing similar to anything I could remember. It felt that I was in the middle of a streaming life force, unconfined, undivided and free flowing. Deep within, I was drenched in the wonderful sensation ultimate belonging.

At first it seemed like a pale blue light mixing with a faint pink in a vague transparency. It is like watercolor dissolving in water. Curling into strange shapes and forms. Then more colors joined in this enigmatic dance. I thought I heard strange wonderful noises. It seemed like music but it is not something I ever heard before. Then there was this strange smell. A fleeting fragrance pervaded that reminded me of nothing at all. More unnamed feelings hovered over me only to bewilder me completely. Moreover, my feelings were kind of nomadic. I was not afraid for sure. If fact, it seemed like I am a bundle of feelings yet untouched by them. All the feelings put together into an absolute brilliant awareness, like all the colors of rainbow combined to generate a brilliant white light for ultimate perception of reality.

It felt like waking up after an irregular afternoon slumber, in a strange place unsure of my ambiance. I could faintly remember myself in an American Airlines flight for Los Angeles and had some very important business to attend. I failed to recollect the nature of the importance and it did not matter any more. All the rush, tension, and anxiety I am used to feeling had definitely left me. My remembrance was like a fast fading early morning dream. In between the two states there seemed to be lot of uncouth explosions, fires, and noise of untold proportion. Once more I tried to but could not really figure out whether I was dreaming that I was traveling and I am waking up or did I doze off to a sleep and this is a dream.

“Who are you?” Someone asked me.

“Natalie Lasden.” I responded automatically like a mind trained to respond and then looked around to find the questioner. There was no one I could see.

“Custodian … take a shape please. They are not yet fully awake.” A voice told someone. It might have been a thought that sounded like someone’s voice.

Suddenly the colors started to come together and formed a human being. I was surprised to what seemed like my father for a while. Getting over my surprise when I was about to speak to him someone commented, “Take a shape in uniform. They listen and respond to uniforms better until they learn to flow.”

My father turned into what seemed like a Greek soldier I had once seen in a movie.

“Not that uniform.” Someone definitely was not pleased with the gorgeous Greek soldier in front of me. Greek dissolved and transformed into Roman centurion.

“Nope.” I could hear dissatisfaction in the critique’s voice.

It turned into a Mogul soldier then dissolved to reshape into more recognizable Russian officer from Crimean war. Someone was obviously not satisfied and the form changed through British soldier from first Great War, a Nazi SS officer, a Japanese admiral, finally into a Five-Star US general.

“Close but not that high ranking. They will freeze in front of them. Authority but comfortable.” Someone suggested. The bundle of light turned into a comforting captain of NYPD in the familiar dark uniform.

Obviously, I am not used to such sporadic changes of anyone’s form excepting in computer simulated movies. Yet it seemed quite natural to me for some unknown reason. Finally, I pulled myself up an asked, “What is happening?”

Officer smilingly replied, “Whatever you are thinking is happening.” There was a pause. “This is a conscious created universe. I am what you wanted me to be.”

I suddenly realized that all the officers were from my memory. They appeared as I thought about them and not that they appeared and I saw them.

“Where am I?” I asked.

The more important question is “Who are you?”

“Natalie Lasden … I already said so.” I responded.

“That is a sound modulation, a name, that is used to refer you. The question remains as to who you are.” Officer insisted.

“What do you mean? Well … I am an American.” I replied proudly considering the fact that we may have landed in some foreign territory.

“That is an abstract belonging of an abstract thought process. Another division of humanity you could say. The question remains as to who are you?”

“I am a Christian.” I replied as I started wondering about it myself.

“Well … that is your mental belonging into a faith. Just like belonging into a nation.” Officer replied.

“I was a passenger in American Airlines flight to Los Angeles and … May be, I am a human being…” I realized that I am not answering his question.

“Closer than other answers.” He said as I peered into his face. He had very comforting, deep and sublime eyes. A faint smile in his lips told me that he is enjoying my confusion.

“That is a strange question to ask. I always knew who I was until you confused me.” I had to say something. After all, I am a smart lady from corporate America.

“Well, … you were not there some hundred years ago, you will not be there in future. Where did you come from and where will you go? How are you defined beyond this time frame? What were you doing on this speck of dust in this infinite space time continuum?”

“Where am I?” I asked once more now a little concerned in the face of these questions. They never taught those questions in our schools. Religion taught us to carefully avoid those in the name of yet another abstraction called God. Rest of the time we were busy with our immediate events happening in our life in the name of practicality. I could care less of time beyond my project deadlines, and space beyond my hometown. Even my collection for retirement came from following others because that is what everyone did and media hammered it on us.

“Well … it is really nowhere or everywhere, if you think with the paradigm of your intellect and perception of a place.” Officer was serious in his reply. “There is a fine line between life and death. Life is an illusion of separateness of the undivided wholeness of this universe. You just crossed that line of illusive separateness and rejoined the sea of consciousness that universe is really made of.” With a slight delay he ended. “In short, you are dead.”

“Huh…?” After a silence and considering the absurdity of the situation I continued “Umm … What are you talking about?” I finally asked totally bewildered.

“Well … when you were so called alive you were a passenger on an airplane that crashed into World Trade Center. Your separate form, as an individual human being, perished with the crash.”

“Really…? Who am I … now?” I asked myself.

Someone from the mysterious colors, totally ignoring my question, said. “Let her be the recorder for this bunch. It seems she is more awake than others.” From nowhere a strange device came to me and started recording whatever I comprehended or perceived.

Someone else was behind me who was asked the same question by the officer. “Who are you?” Person replied, “Reverend Judge. Mychael Judge.”

“That’s your name…” Officer was about to start what he had taken me through.

“Don’t start that again.” I intercepted.

“OK.” He turned to the next person and asked, “Who are you?”

“Youssef Nassair.” Person replied. “That’s your…”

Before he could complete I protested, “Why do you keep on asking if you know that we do not know who we are?”

“That is my job. When you seriously ask the question, you will able be who you really are? That’s your final destiny. In other words…” He was trying to look for ways to explain. “Until then, you will dwell in the realm of illusive fragmented selves built around a strange concept known as ego. It is a duality of certainly knowing who you are with that of deep and unconscious uncertainty of who you really are. You will not completely wake up to join the reality until you resolve that duality."

“So, who are we?” I asked.

“You will know when you ask the question to yourself from within.” Officer answered and continued to ask the same question to oncoming shadows. I kept on recording names like David, Daniel, and Tara… Shadows of a man and a woman together answered, “Michael and Kathleen.” The process continued when I observed through the corner of my eyes Reverend and Youssef into a very friendly yet involved discourse of some kind. I moved closer to them to quench my curiosity.

“Aren’t you the man who took control of the plane?” Reverend asked. Youssef smiled affirmatively. Reverend’s question to Youssef seemed genuine, “Why did you crash the plane into the trade center?”

“We were angry then. I was angry.” Youssef answered quite thoughtfully. Apparently all feelings, including anger, had left him as in all of us. The divided humanity that we came from seemed so meaningless. “I suppose anger is a destructive force. It leads to revenge”

“And …. Why were you angry?” Reverend asked Youssef.

“I suppose, we were hurting and we blamed others. It is more or less the same thing that people who are hurt now in this incident is now contemplating on hurting back someone.” Youssef tried to explain it analytically.

“Didn’t you think that these people you killed had nothing to do with your suffering?” Reverend asked. “Furthermore, in this civilized world every one has the power to say and voice their concern. You certainly could have appealed to some international body about your grievances.” Reverend was dead serious about his perspective when Youssef’s smile broadened, then burst out into laughter. Even I began to smile. Somehow I knew that Reverend’s perspective had an essence of absurdity.

Officer approached our gathering and slowly turned into a wise old man.

“Why did you change shape again?” I asked.

“Well … my work as a officer is done. All has been accounted for. I hope you are recording everything.” He smiled at me. “Well, until you wake up completely, you follow images within your intellectual boundary. You would be comfortable in it. Humans generally depend on an officer for administration but does not look at an uniformed person for wisdom and clarity. There come people of brilliance and learning. Fragmented world is all about image. After all, fragmented universe itself is a shadow.”

“Why do you keep on saying that this world is a shadow?” This time Reverend questioned.

The crowd of dead folks seemed to be in harmony with each other. As if, everyone is like drops of awareness, almost like raindrops, trying to get back into the ocean. All the divisions of reality are slowly vanishing. Time is quite meaningless here. Illusive movement of time from future into the past has stopped. It seemed to be a space of feelings.

“You see, now that you are unaffected by time, you may perceive the fact that past was nothing but plain memory. Future was just expectations. And present … well, there is no present. It is the transition of this illusive future into illusive past. Everything is just an illusion that takes form only in our collective mind.” He smiled and continued. “Effectively, how humans see the world depends completely on how they perceive it.”

“Exactly … that is what I was laughing on Reverend’s comment.” Youssef commented. “The death and destruction of World Trade Center is so tormenting and so vivid. Tell me, how many times those images were broadcast on the media? How many times it is shown that people are crying for their loved ones?” With a pause he continued, “Now tell me, how many times did you see a Vietnam woman grieving because her husband was killed in carpet bombing? How many times did you see of an Iraqi man mourning for his brothers’ death? How many times did you see a mother grieve in Africa because her little son died of starvation?”

There is a pause when a Japanese gentleman commented, “And did you see a picture of Hiroshima on CNN after the atom bomb was dropped?”

“What is your point?” Tara, a beautiful co-passenger of my flight, asked from the shadows. “People everywhere see them in various magazines, and photo exhibitions. I had a photo feature on hunger of African children. There are charity organizations who try to help them.”

“Yes. Only a little percentage of the privileged population ever flips those pages. Moreover, what you do not see is the sadness, anger, frustration building up in the minds of millions who are not in those magazine pictures.” Youssef tried to explain. “When you go to a court, both side gets to speak. How come in the civilized world of media operated reality, the denounced never gets to speak? How can people pass judgement without listening to the other side?”

Many from the crowd were actually trying to understand what Youssef is trying to say. We did not belong to any division of humanity any more. Nothing that is happening in the land of living effected us. To us, reality of living is like a painting on the canvas of time. Hence, our eagerness to understand Youssef seemed imperative in order for us to know who we are.

In the tone of his explanation, I felt that he is trying to communicate something that he could not before. Now he is aware enough to explain in ways so we could feel the way he felt once. More like understanding each other’s feelings once that we are out of the fragmented world. He mumbled something about the system that we are proud of could be faulty itself. Then he tried to explain that one could steal other’s share of this planet while being perfectly legal in the system of life that civilization has implemented.

Suddenly there seemed to be a gleam in his eyes. “May be, this will help you understand a little.” Glancing at the eternally mixing colors of our ambiance he paused thoughtfully, perhaps to formulate his stream of ideas. “Consider a big corporation in the world of living. One fine day the leaders and owners realize that market is slow. One need to lower expense of the company and hence lays off certain percent of the people from the working force.”

“So? It happens every day in a valid capitalistic system.” Someone interjected.

“Yes. That is quite true. But, what about those people who lost their jobs? Are they less of human being than the others are? Don’t they have feelings and needs? Why would few humans would have the right to dictate the lives of others?”

“That is not a problem. They can get jobs somewhere else. After all, owners need to take care of their business.” Tara said. “Owning of capital and the right to do so is the fundamental need and is the driving force of our life.” There were people who could not see what Youssef was getting at.

“You mean to say that people of this world are less important than this abstract ownership of institutions and material?” Youssef was surprise at the programmed intellect of Tara. “Let’s carry on with the example … Assume that this laid off people do not get any more jobs. Slowly, they loose their house, food to eat, privilege of being treated when they are sick, and all other things that are attached with money. Pursuing knowledge becomes a luxury.” With a breather Youssef continued, “They slowly move away to dump yard. Away from the people who have those privileges.” Youssef looked at all to see if everyone is following his lead or not.

“The privileged folks realized that these unsuccessful people could be impending danger to their ways of life. So they divided these not so privileged people into groups and indulged them into conflicts, using their anger, frustration, and sadness to fuel this war against each other.” Youssef continued his explanation, perhaps with the hope that we will be able to relate his explanation with their reason to kill so many people in an international commercial center.

“People who did not have could not approach to these rich folks. They saw their own child slowly die in hunger. Their friends shrivel into oblivion. Did not have minimal privileges that all creatures on this planet should have if one was not dictating the way how another could live.”

“Sometimes, these privileged folks did send some aid but only when they had enough to maintain their own ways of living. More out of guilt you could say. They own the corporation and money and all the privileges. And it is all right and decent because they did not use violence on the face of it. Their ways was cunning and done through processes and in the name of civilized society.”

Youssef took another breather and continued. “And, some in this ‘have not’ crowd suddenly looked at the people who has. They wanted to go and claim their share of the world. But what can they do? Part of their wealth is spent to protect the people who have and their way of life. The under privileged realized that they could not walk into the other domain through the front door. So, in the darkness of a night they sneaked into the rich mansions, broke the window, demolished a fountain, killed a guard and the beloved dog of the privileged.”

Youssef took a break and started his explanation. “From the point of view of the privileged people, these people had vandalized had terrorized their lives. From the point of view of the people who did not have anything, they claim to have revolted against oppression. They stood up against those people who had taken off their job in the first place. After all, in the system that these people have built, it was all right to take away their job, their home, food and other requirements under the name of a system which cater to their ways of life. They called it Capitalism.” Youssef completed his explanation by saying, “Could you also call these systematic and procedural deprivation a terror too?”

Some one from the crowd asked Youssef, “It seems that you are promoting terrorism.”

“Certainly not.” Youssef replied. “I am explaining another perspective. That term terrorism should be abolished from the entire humanity and from all perspective. Terrorism must be viewed from all perspective too”

“Aren’t people allowed to preserve their ways of life?” I asked.

“Sure. But, as long as all others are allowed to live by theirs. The very essence of ownership creates the entire problem. Ownership is the seat of most problems and issues of humanity. Ownership of inter-human relationship, ownership of vanity, ownership of way of life, ownership of materials, perceptions, language, ownership of ideas, success, failure. Even the ownership of one’s ever changing body and time adds to this problem.” This time the old wise man, the non-participant listener, commented. “The final question remains … who is the owner? Who are you who own all this?”

Youssef, kind of endeavoring to bring the discussion back into more understandable framework, added another statement, “So long there would be people who are left with nothing for them to loose, the essence of revolution will continue. Folks, who do not have, will fight back. If privileged folks kill the person who has broken the windows of their house, another not so privileged will take the place.”

We all looked at the wise old man. Slowly I asked, “Does that mean humans will continue to fight with each other, terrorize each other all the time? Isn’t there a cure for this disease?”

“There you are. There you got it.” The old wise man was jubilant. I had no idea as to what I got. I stared back with a blank look. He smiled and slowly said, “It is a disease. Only way out is to look at it as a disease, do a diagnosis and come up with a cure for the entire human race. Say, you look at a person or a group to blame. Then fight terrorism with force. It will be like using sedative to cure a chronic pain. Once the effect of sedation dies off, the pain would return.”

Slowly, things were becoming clearer. This planet earth, which holds the web of life, is suffering in a disease. A deadly virus hiding inside of the human mind infects the web of life on this planet. Planet is writhing in pain and suffers more and more as time pass on and human, with their self centered perception of ownership based reality continues to play havoc. Instead of considering the fact that people are a part of the planet, they started to think that this planet belongs to them. Even the ownership is not equally distributed among humans too. In the name of civilization they took away privileges from all other beings. Greed of wealth and power had an effect of malignant cancer. Slowly, eating away the very core of humanity and the life of this planet. The unsurpassed desire for one to rule other seemed to be relentless.

I could feel that all of us in the crowd in this strange place going through the same revelation. War is like a game for most people who have not experienced war directly. War is about control, hatred, death, and destruction. All war ends by sowing seed of yet another war. Seed of vengeance, hatred, sadness is sown in the soul of the defeated while essence of vanity is sown into the core of the victor.

As we contemplated on the concepts of war, with our expanded awareness in the land of nonliving, we were all mingling together into a unified yet free flowing river of life force. We still had questions in the realm of our intellect that was fast dissolving into all pervading consciousness. It is that consciousness that tells an electron, all the space and time between galaxy clusters, the past and future and everything in between and beyond what to do and how to behave. Perhaps, that is the mind of God.

We asked the wise old man, in a desperate attempt to understand the fate of the land of living, if he had a cure for the disease. He slowly dissolved and emerged back as the divine mother. She had an ethereal light blue translucent complexion with cascading rainbow hair. A muslin robe of all the colors that is seen on this planet adorned her, not to cover her but to reveal the unsurpassed enigma of her inner being. In all, she had a beauty beyond compare, utterly comforting, tranquil, and serene. I felt like a little baby in the presence of the mother. Instead of getting separated from her like we do in birth, we were on our way to merge back into her.

Although we did not hear a sound, yet we listened to her speak from the depth of eternity.

“This planet of living where you were defined is a living entity. Every thing of this being is inter connected, inter dependent. Every iota of its entity is synchronized in perfect harmony. Each thing to each thing, perfectly indifferent, perfectly works together in discord for a good beyond good. It is a being that is quite timeless in its transient.” Divine Mother narrated in silence as we listened, felt, and conceived the core essence.

“Humanity,” She continued, “Is such a small little stroke of master’s brush on the canvas of time. You can say humans are like nerve cells holding the mind of this planet. However, a deep-seated disease has enabled them to fragment this wholeness, under the banner of ownership. Perhaps, this ownership gives them a momentary and illusive definition of their individual being. Conscious of the undivided wholeness at the unconscious level, each individual human being clings on to an illusive definition of self. A self that is built around an even fragile concept that is known as ego. They do everything to preserve this ego.”

“Although I am kind of comprehending what you are saying, but still I do not really understand what this has to do with the present crisis situation that world is facing today.” Someone from the conglomeration spoke up. “My task in the world of living was to put out fire. I neither tried to perceive life nor the world in such a vast undivided way. Now I can feel it but can not understand it. Could you explain it a little more down to earth way? May be, using examples so that I can understand it.” The fireman asked.

Divine Mother seemed to be looking at everyone. Or may be, we were merging and hence it seems that way. She seemed to be thinking for a way to explain it better. “Consider this planet like a human body. Nutrition has to reach all parts of the body. If one part of the body gets more nutrition than another part, person overall is not healthy. If one part deprives another part in anyway, then it will also be effected adversely sooner or later. Lastly, one part of the body, say left hand, can not launch an attack against another part of the body, say the right hand and strive to live a wonderful life.” She paused to see if every one is getting her point.

“It is true that for an intense pain a momentary sedation may be required. For a focused infection, a surgery may have to be done. However, a proper balanced nurturing and healing of the entire body needs to be done for over all health.” She seemed to conclude her explanation.

Fireman once again probed and asked. “Could you please relate your explanation to the situation now in the land of living? Surely, you are not suggesting that the people who had reeked havoc among general populous go unpunished. You can not love them back and stop them.”

“Well … do not underestimate the power of love.’ She commented with a smile. “The greatest victory one can attain is when one converts an enemy into a friend and not by sowing the seed for the generation of new enemy.” She paused slightly. “However, one needs to understand the origin of the terror. Do you think one could send independent journalist to ask these terrorists about their wants and demand and lay it in front of the public?” She asked the Fireman, or all of us. “May be, we can ask them how did they manage to accumulate so much power, organization skill, military training, arms and ammunition. After all, they are poor, untrained, under educated bunch of people. If they have an army, how do they handle the cost? If they have a network at global level, how did they set it up? Mostly, what is their impetus to do so?”

“That is what the leaders of the civilized world is doing.” Fireman commented while I continued recording whatever I could perceive.

Divinity was now explaining from a more mundane level. “May be they are. May be, under the vale of secrecy for the effectiveness of their endeavor, leaders of the so called civilized world are actually hiding their involvement in the making of the terror themselves.”

We all looked at her, quite lost in the possibilities that lay before us. Someone from the crowd suggested, “Do you foresee any end to this? Do you know of a way to heal this planet.”

“You want me to be a healer?” She smiled. “May be there is a way to heal.” She probed for a way to spell out the cure and then started. “It is indeed a need to understand the enemy or the source of terror now. The source of terror thrives in poverty and deprivation. May be, world need to revisit their way of life itself.”

She inspected us just like a teacher looks at the students to check if they are tuned or not. “Possibly, world resources needs to be distributed and shared in more equality. Instead of building another tank or guided missile to defend against terrorist or an enemy, one could use that resource to feed the less privileged on this planet. Instead of redoing a road near Los Angeles, Berlin or Tokyo, one can make a road in central Africa where there is none. Before installing another air-conditioner in a local school, one can build a school in central Asia. May be, the need of army itself will become irrelevant eventually in proper healing.”

“That is absurd.” Someone from the crowd commented and he came forward. “An army is absolutely necessary. And, everyone can not be a leader. Without a leadership, there will be chaos.”

“What if, the entire world in one big country?” Mother asked. “Would we still need an army?”

“That is an absurdity. There will be countries. There will be government. That is how humanity had always been.” Fireman commented. “Once the civilized portion of humanity bring down the terrorist network and reprimand the terrorists, peace may prevail again.”

“Are you sure? People living today in the western world are so vengeful because all you here were killed and the icon of power and civilization were destroyed. How do you think the people who will survive the war in Afghanistan or in other places will feel after war in their homeland is over? Don’t you think they will carry the anger, frustration, and vengeance in their heart?” She explained.

“However, if humanity considers the people everywhere on this world needs equal nourishment then a balance may prevail. If people realize that few people of the planet can not accumulate wealth and material then distribution and sharing would be much more even. If there is a system that caters to such procedure, then may be the system itself needs modification.” Divinity narrated options. “However, in this infantile state of humanity, this thought process may not be easy to comprehend. After all, ownership is still the primary means of nourishing ego.” With a slight gap in her narration she ended. “For any kind of health of humanity. All walls that fragment humanity needs to come down. There can not be a local healing.”

“Is there a way we could let the land of living know about our revelation.” I asked.

“Of course you do. That is in fact your work. After all, you had been recording it all along.” She replied.

“How do I do that?” I asked.

“Turn your experience into an imagination in a writers mind before you dissolve into final union.” Divinity suggested.

“That will not work. People need scientific proof for the claim. Else, anything a writer writes will be considered as an absurd imagination.” I replied.

“That is not true. Eternity had been whispering ideas into the ears of folks, in the land of living, from the beginning of time. Sometimes it appears as scientific discoveries, sometimes as landmark concepts that shows direction to humanity. Books like Bible, Koran, Gita are among countless such creation.” Divinity replied.

“Sure, but people with scientific mind do not believe some of the absurdity mentioned in such books.” I replied. “For example, Bible states that all humans originated from a man and woman that God made. But, that is just a myth, a wild imagination.” I tried to bring my best scientific foot forward. “How can be such diversity, so much difference in human race if the man and woman were of similar kind to begin with.” I contradicted. “Surely, this was not what Eternity with all the wisdom had told some writer in another time.”

“And why not?” She asked me instead. “What appears in one’s imagination is not necessarily what is reproduced in a creation. It depends on the limitation on the writer’s ability to express and by the frame of writer’s intellectual boundary. Also, it depends on the reader’s ability to perceive. For example, two simple cells comes together to eventually evolve into an utterly complex human body composed of seemingly infinitely diverse type of cells. Could you think that the writer of Bible was trying to state something in metaphor?”

There was a silence then. I did not know what to think of it. Of course, human language is at best vague. Everyone interprets words in their own way in spite of all the effort of uniformity. Every one, like fingerprints, are quite different yet quite similar.

“How do we let humanity know about the possibility of the crisis in the land of living as a disease.” Youssef asked.

“Yes.” I added. “How do we tell them about the cure?”

“Appear as imagination in the mind of a writer.” She repeated her suggestion. “Writer will tell the world of living.”

I was still skeptical. I wondered if anyone would pay any heed to a writer. Divinity knew my dilemma. “They will not pay any heed right away. Yet, the seed on an undivided humanity will be sowed in the mind of humanity. When they reach that state, they would be cured. If not, they will perish into oblivion and a new drama of Eternity will unfold.” She carried on. “You play your part. After all, you were the designated recorder.” She definitely had a reassuring smile on her lips.

“Who would I choose to relay?” I asked.

“Anyone. After all, everyone is really the same one.” She had begun to dissolve. I entered into the mind of an unknown writer with no name. Then I merged with the rest and began to form the part of the ever-mixing color, tunes, fragrance, and unknown boundary less sensations and feelings.

“Who am I? No. Who was I? No. No. Who would I be?” I asked without making sense of my own question.

“You are me and you are finally awake.” Eternal comfort, bliss, and love responded with supreme clarity. “All of you are me.” There was a silence and then, just before I dissolved into final union with nothingness. From the abyss of space, time, reality and illusion appeared the final awareness in a final statement. “You are the God. You always had been and will be.”

Youssef, Reverend, Fireman, police man, Tara, thousand of others in the crowd, and Natalie said, “I am God” in an enchanting harmony and merged into the silence of absolute awareness.

Note from the narrator:

I am a narrator, an instrument used to convey a message. I am just like a pen. When a poet use a pen to writes a poem, does the pen write the poem?

Some strange and fleeting images with abstract names like Natalie, Youssef, Reverend, Tara, and many others appeared in my mind. I do not know whether I was dreaming or I was awake.

I am a fragmented ego based human being with all the limitation of the fragmented world. I am conveying a message from another reality. Whether world listens to this message from the other side is not for me to dictate. If we do not, may be Reverend would be returning to this world some day and offer the last rite to humanity itself. May be, we will listen and finally become an undivided humanity and cure ourselves of this malignant disease and heal ourselves.

May be, sacrifice and death of so many will finally end war itself.

I had been writing through the night. It came to me quite early on and someone woke me up. Of course, after my vision I am questioning if I am awake right now or not. Through my window I can see the brightening amber of the eastern sky over mystic foggy Californian morning.

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