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on my pillow and began to focus on the orange, I knew something was different about the day. I found myself
closing my eyes, which wasn’t unusual, but this time I began to understand what the book meant by
“becoming.” It was very different from focusing; it was more like a lack of focus. I soon found myself inside
the orangea seed resting in the center of one section, surrounded by millions of juice pockets. As I became
accustomed to the darkness inside, I saw the pulp hanging in strings along the sides of each section. The
sections were lined up neatly, side by side, in perfect symmetry. The smell was overwhelming and so very
It was the most wonderful orange smell I had ever experienced. I noticed the other sections had seeds in
them as well, and I wondered if they felt as confined as I did. I soon came to understand “becoming.” It took the
work of focus and made it effortless. I became lost in the orange!
I now understood that when we become somethinganythingthe need to focus on it disappears. It seemed
natural and effortless, and isn’t that how life is supposed to be?
Soon after becoming the orange, I left the seed behind and drifted away. I found myself floating through a
mist with no idea where I was going, and it didn’t matter. I was inside a large, open area, surrounded by clouds
of various shapes and sizes. There was nothing but openness and a feeling of floating. I no longer saw myself as
a physical being, and I wasn’t concerned. I was simply there, enjoying the feeling of being somewhere I had
never been before.
As I watched the mists swirling around me, there was a parting of the mist in front of me. There was a
shapeless white energy moving toward me. It acknowledged my presence as it drew near. I was at total peace
with what was happening and never felt threatened by this entity. Instead, I felt invitedas if I had been
brought here to learn something I had been pursuing for some time. I felt like I was home again, but home was
not where I had come from. Instead, it was where I was now. I was different. I looked down at my body, and it
was not there. I appeared like the energy that approached me, without shape or form. I was as conscious as I
ever was inside my body. It was as though I had been waiting for this moment my whole life. It was like
revisiting an old friend. I simply floated and waited.
As the entity moved closer, I recognized it as an answer to one of the hundreds of questions I asked over the
nine months leading up to this point. It did not present itself as a voice like the one that spoke to me when Bob
was drowning. Instead, it was more like a thought invading my consciousness. I soon realized it had been
waiting all this time to come to me but couldn’t get past the distractions in my mind.
But here it was, right in front of mea part of my own consciousness. No sooner had that answer come and
gone, when another made its way to where I was, followed by another, and yet another. Each was a different
shade of white, an answer I had posed to the universe during the previous nine months.
I was intoxicated with the joy. I was so wondrously happy inside. I hope I can remember all this, I heard
myself think.
It all took place in what appeared to be a matter of minutes. When the last answer floated past, I found
myself drifting back through the mist and returned to my pillow. There had been no sense of time whatsoever. I
sat there for several moments before I realized what happened. I jumped off my pillow and ran downstairs to the
kitchen. My mother was standing in front of the sink, washing dishes. I walked over to her and gently touched
her shoulder.
“Mom,” I said proudly, “I finally achieved what I have been searching for in my meditations. The answers to
all my questions were there. I still don’t believe I was successful!”
“I’m so happy for you,” she replied, smiling gently. “Now do you want some supper?”
I was puzzled. It was only four o’clock in the afternoon when I went upstairs. I was in the mist for just a few
minutes. Why was she asking me if I wanted supper?
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She smiled, “We ate hours ago! I called up to you, but you must have been asleep. I thought by now you
might be hungry.”
I looked at the clock. It was eight p.m. I’d been gone four hours, but it seemed like just a few minutes,
nothing more!
How could four hours have passed so quickly? I asked myself. That was when I realized for the first time in
my life that time is relative and certainly not the same everywhere.
I sat down in the chair, and Mom served up dinner. I don’t think she said another word, but I do remember