Through insights received in a near-death experience, followed by somewhat unspeakable collisions with powerful Asian monks, addicts,
and a rather-possessed descendant of Mohammed fleeing the high Moroccan mountains, I discovered a darker side underneath every action, which held a key of untold importance. I blocked out this information for years, unsure of its stability, completely afraid to open its box, and allow its threat of total disorientation become real. “Disturbed” people sought me out in public places, often recognizing me from seemingly vast distances; they’d walk up to me, check my eyes/soul and say, “You understand.” I tried not to let it terrify me.
Then the world began to collapse. Everything reeked of construction, or illusion. There was no such thing as ‘truth’ in the face of what I’d discovered. Although I tried to maintain normal appearance, the weight of what I’d seen undid me. I was spiraling down, or up … all sense of direction is relative; I began to do yoga to ground out, and get back to the physical world, whose shape lost its multi-cultural pinning. It was during this time I began writing a book which probed our mental fragility, and what we hang on to, amidst the relatively insane
comings and goings of life.
When I reached the end of what I was sure I knew, acutely away from the human need to feel safe, and accepted, I caught that flash
of the muscle I recognized
as the traumatic injury from childhood. P/I healing began there.