Tuesday, December 18, 2007

disappearing parts

So I've managed to maintain my one hour practice through a snowstorm with a seven year old. I disappear into my room with my ipod and let him play football on his Playstation.
Yesterday I felt parts of my body disappear. And then I felt something like a post of energy, or a beam pop up through the vertical center of my body. I've read of this disappearing thing. It was less like disappearing than losing my sense of my body. Like I felt like my shoulder was up near my ear, even though it wasn't, and then I lost any real sense of where the hell my left leg was. It's a little like that book Harold and the Purple Crayon. You feel like parts of you are being erased and redrawn by a different part of your mind.
The trick of course is not freak out, because if you do you'll just end up coming back to the reality that you're used to. That's why the discipline is important, you have to allow different levels of consciousness to feel natural and to feel real. Sometimes I feel like I'm on Star Trek and I'm just waiting patiently to be transported into another dimension, but there's just something a bit rusty about my transporter.
No hurry. I realized today I'm 44. If I keep myself healthy and follow in the genetic footsteps of my father's side of the family, I've got a good 50 years, maybe longer to master this.