With my navy-blue skin, a face shaped like a labial pipe organ, and two small thin arms, I was undoubtedly an odd-looking creature. I emerged, along with others, from the forest into the clearing. On the horizon, I noticed the familiar outline of a vast technological city – thin sand-brown skyscrapers with spheres on top and slender double lines of a circulating rail network suspended in mid-air. The sky was a strange purplish blue, and a grayish-yellow haze covered the horizon. Between us and the great city, the landscape was flat and desolate. There were only three things to do; go back to the forest, return to the great city, or remain in the present. We chose to pick a spot right there and settled down.
And then, without warning, the world went dark.
. . .
. . .
When sight returned, I looked through the eyes of a powerful personality who was addressing the gathering from a comfortable spot under a large shade tree. From this perspective, I could see a trickle of seekers emerging from the woods to join us. In the frontline, a wide-eyed row of tubular mouths pouted in focused attention. I remember feeling that I was sharing something vital – some foundational knowledge that these people valued deeply.
And again, in a flash, the scene faded out.
. . .
In the interval, I contemplated this experience of multiple perspectives. With every hop, I was being renewed – detached from the passage of time, always examining the world with present eyes. Perhaps the triumph of experience across these temporal discontinuities was a manifestation of immortality. An uncaused joy enveloped me. It is difficult to explain, but the overall effect was so striking that it became clear – the rest of the phantasmagoria was unworthy of attention.
It would be fair to ask how I was aware of my interactions. I can recall no audible sounds. Perhaps the strange physiology enabled a mode of communication that I cannot explain. I only remember thoughts or the qualitative experience, and you should interpret my representations accordingly.
When the world reappeared, I was back in the audience with my gaze on the Maharshi, our Master. Suddenly, a large man emerged into view from the right, menacing an outsized scimitar. I froze in my seat, looking in all directions to scan for other attackers. Finding nothing, my attention focused on the danger in front of me. He watched us intently at first and then thundered. “Are you scared of me?” We shivered in silence, and he turned impatiently towards the Master. The discourse had ended. Our beloved Maharshi became serene and closed his eyes slowly. The Assassin expertly moved the mighty blade in a bloodless action, lopping off the head. I remember the unspeakable horror of those around me. They clutched their thin arms together at the chest and looked down, the ends of their mouths screaming wide open in a spontaneous collective wail.
“Are you scared I’m going to kill you?” the Assassin thundered again as he gently poked at the lifeless form next to him. After studying us intently for a brief time, he looked down with hunched shoulders. I heard a soft, tired sigh. “You have learned nothing from him!” he said, with a shake of the head. As if on cue, our Master’s shell fell apart and turned to dust. The Assassin took a step under the shade, sat down in the Maharshi’s place, and declared, “Do not be afraid. I will teach you now.”
As he began, the fear disappeared, and the audience listened with rapt attention. As seekers, perhaps our loyalty was to Truth. Perhaps the Maharshi had been waiting for an improvement, a new expression, and was relieved to be free.
Just as I settled in, it was again time to take another jump through time and space. My new perspective was from a disembodied position, mid-air above the gathering. I could sense that a lot of time had passed; the trees looked different. New patches of vegetation had sprung up or retreated. The new Master appeared much like the old one before the replacement, tired but steady in his mission. From this vantage point, it was clear that the audience was smaller. Perhaps more of them had achieved enlightenment, and those who remained continued their quest.
I looked below me. As I anticipated, a man appeared in the clearing. He was like the first assassin but bigger. I floated down slowly and knew what to expect. The new assassin asked the same questions, did the same things, and the cycle repeated itself.
I don’t recall how many times I saw this. Each time the audience grew smaller, the Master and the Assassin grew larger.
The final scene is difficult to describe. The forest and city had disappeared. There was one person left, but his appearance was unlike the others. He was not the Master, nor the Assassin, nor from the Audience. He seemed isolated, yet not alone. I circled high above him, watching his resplendent being in all-encompassing meditation.
