Chapter 1 

Oh voices, silence is only one Voice. It was a Voice tempered by stuff I was hardly cognizant of. Notice, I said Voice, not words. You learn out in the catacombs of space that there are no words but speakable sounds nonetheless. It was garbage noise at first and then I noticed a few patterns, some things were repeated even if from different angles. It was as if fine-tuned instruments had been turned into grinding machines of some kind. Grind, ground, growl, goosing it, however you wanted to describe it is was the fine and high going to the low. A hollow bottom sounded in the rotten noisome beat. A klug dangled above my head it seemed. Something I would describe as a zart crossed me, crossed back and made me feel my heart. It was the first time I had felt that heart. It had weight and seemed to be pumping. “I can’t be dead if the heart is still pumping, “ I thought. Not dead but not dreaming. Removed for some purpose that hadn’t been revealed to me yet. Homeless and yet having ease of movement. It’s very strange to try and convey the sense of things at the beginning. How odd it was discovering what I was capable of in this new environment.

I thought of the alien angle; aliens zapping me up for some experiment. That had been a popular myth for a time. Ah, I had been studying the mystical traditions and this was some private joke played on me by an anonymous master who wanted to show me the materiality of the mystical tradition. It was a creepy feeling and I would call out from time to time, “show yourself, you’ve had your fun, I give up, I submit to you, come on be a man about it, laugh at me he he he, I’m a little bug-a-bee,” and so on. I never felt suspended by wires being whisked through space by an invisible hand. There was presence though, without question. Along with Voice was Presence and I tried to penetrate that with every bit of insight I could gather in myself.

David Eide
January 24, 2014