Journeys into the bright world

Because I was so eager to play the game right and not overdo a good thing I had planned to be a simple observer during Marwayne Leipzig's first samadhi session on Saturday, February twenty-fifth (Marwayne's description of this experience is contained in chapter 8 of this book.) However, when Howard offered me a twenty-five-milligram boost I gratefully accepted. Since he was on call that weekend he himself remained grounded. For my own part, I figured that twenty-five milligrams would render me just sensitive enough to tune in on Marwayne and to enjoy the Barbra Streisand record we planned to play as an accompaniment. Since I had eaten well that day it didn't seem likely that much would happen. It was, therefore, a complete surprise when I took off into an intensely meaningful flight of my own.

The first notable effect was that I found myself enthralled by the purity of Barbra's voice as she sang the lyrics of her record "Classical Barbra." Howard and I had played that album all during our courtship and I also had a tape of the same recording in my car. More than any other record it was "our music" and I had heard it at least a hundred times. Yet it had never rung more pristinely through the atmosphere than now. Several of the songs were sung in other languages and Barbra's accent in each one was flawless. I knew how hard she must have worked to perfect each bell-tone syllable. At the same time I heard her thinking, "No one will ever really appreciate this extra effort I am making, but I'm going to do it absolutely right anyway." At that moment I wanted desperately to shout out, "But we do appreciate it; we are grateful; the difference does matter!"

Had Barbra been there in the flesh I would have fallen at her feet in unabashed idolatry. For the first time I really comprehended the adulation given to movie stars and why they are worshiped like gods and goddesses. Of course they deserve our love, I thought, because they are the modern archetype makers, the heroes and heroines of the legends that feed our souls. The grooves of spinning records, the reels revolving film-these were manmade replicas of the wheels with which the universe eternally recreates itself-Hollywood prayer wheels. In my deeper meditations I had seen the archetypes being carved out from within, like coring an apple. Now I saw how they were shaped from without, like stamping the discs of recordings that could be played repeatedly. And always the shape was in one way or another reminiscent of a spiral.

Throughout this reverie I remained seated in the lotus posture, still aware of being in the livingroom with Marwayne and Howard. At the same time, to my overwhelming joy, I found myself returning to my cosmic beauty parlor. "This can't be," I protested. "I've already visited this archetype. It was wonderful beyond words but I know I can't just go back again and again."

"You don't seem to realize," the strong feminine voice that I had heard before reassured me. "The secret of a massage lies in making the same circular motions over and over. Lots of women go for beauty treatments every week. The magic is in the repetition. Just be peaceful now and let us work on you."

Indeed, they were giving me the full treatment. Without even lying down my body was being relaxed and refreshed. It was as though I had slipped into a healing place about one octave above the beauty salon. This healing sanctuary was in some way superior but there was a distinct similarity of vibration which made it possible to pass from one straight up to the other.

It all seemed so merciful, so inexpressibly kind, so much more than I had ever expected. At the end, the thought came that Barbra's glorious voice might be my golden key. Perhaps in times of need if I lay down and listened to her record I might again be lifted into that pink glow. "Oh yes," I sighed. "The universe is a good and a beneficent place."

Now my attention was riveted on Howard. He was sitting in a chair sipping herb tea from a shiny red mug decorated with a chain of white hearts running around the base. I was spellbound by that mug. Surely it was the most gorgeous mug in creation-so rich, so luminous, so fraught with meaning! Heart after heart extended the whole way around the circle. "We can have our Valentine's celebration all year round. Of course I can send you a valentine every day." I wasn't sure whether I was saying the words or not but it seemed like a profound revelation. We were cartoon figures and beautiful red hearts were flying on lace paper wings from me to him. I felt very happy about it.