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The following poem is my testimonial of an authentic astral travel experience with spirit.
In the stillness of the morn
She was neither asleep nor awake
But in between silent slumber
She found herself walking down
A dusty dirt road in an awakened lightness
Grassy lands and water to her left
Women dressed in vibrant colorful hues dotted the landscape
Cattle strolled by her as did passersby
Never noticing her
She hears nothing
She only sees with acute vividness
She senses the sun’s heat along the dusty road.
She sees a humble place before her
People entering and exiting
Monks dressed in orange and saffron meander about
There is a tree decorated in regal homage
A monk sits in quiet reverence
She knows it is a sacred tree
People, once again, pass by her never noticing
Do they not see her?
Entering the temple in awakened lightness
A man to her right sitting in the lotus position utters to her
“How are your grandparents?”
Knowing that her grandmother has passed on she replied “fine”
The exchange between them was not spoken but she heard within her his voice.
She walked to the center of the room
And stood in wonderment at its ornate beauty
Candles flickered casting serene shadows
Smoke rose from the burning incense and encompassed her
As she stood in the midst of the temple’s room
Watching people both Indian and tourists admire its beauty
They passed by her as if she were not there
She turned slightly, her head rose and she gazed
At the most magnificent golden Buddha she had ever seen
Sitting upon an altar illuminated by flickering candle light
Colorful flowers surrounded him with homage
Standing in the midst of this simplistic wonderment comforted her
But how did she get here?
People mingled around her never taking notice of her presence
A procession of monks dressed in orange and saffron
Entered the room and walked silently passed her in reflection.
Their peace filled auras consumed her
As the last monk passed by her, he suddenly stopped and turned towards her
He is young and slender with a serene face
His eyes widen
His mouth drops open with astonishment
Their eyes lock
She is mystified as is he
She wonders why he is staring at her
He slowly turned around and followed his brothers out of the temple as she watched
She was jolted awake with a tremendous start from her slumber
To find that she was home resting in her bed and not walking the lands of India
As she had done before in silent slumber
Where had she been?
She was guided to watch a particular documentary
On India that she had never seen before
She was told that she would recognize something
To her astonishment, she saw the lands she walked,
The humble temple,
The sacred tree, the Bodhi tree
And the magnificent golden Buddha sitting upon an altar
Just as she had witnessed
How could this be?
She had never been to India and yet she had been there
Who had taken her in silent slumber to visit the land of the Buddha and why?
Why was the last monk in the procession the only one to notice
Her standing in the midst of the temple when no else did?
This journey in the stillness of the morn
Will always be shrouded in mystery
But one she will always treasure.
Copyright © Ingrid-Dana Larson 2011 All Rights Reserved
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