Site icon God Beauty Perfection Love :: Synonyms

Perceiving Spirit

Close both eyes; See with the other (third) one.

Close both eyes; See with the other one.

close both eyes - see with the other one

close both eyes – see with the third eye

Close both eyes;
See with the
Other one.

Cover both ears;
Hear with the
Other one.

Quiet my mind.
Open my heart.
Peer into infinity.
Listen to my body.

These senses
Perceive my spirit,
The true nature of self.

Spirit is in all things.
I look for it there.
Its voice resonates in my body.
I listen for it there.

When I see it, there is no I.
When I hear it, there is no not I.
Awakened to Oneness.


An FB page I follow posted the image above with its stanza about the third eye.

Cover both eyes
See with the
Other one.

Cover your ears,
Quiet your mind;
With your heart,
Listen to your body.

Only these senses
Perceive your spirit,
Your true self.

It tickled me in a number of ways. While reposting it to my own timeline, it seemed to imply other possibilities, so I added a bit more about a third ear:

But that still seemed not enough, so here we are. There may yet be more.

Many of the words and images in this poem refer to a particular moment I experienced a quarter century ago, or so. I suppose it was the day my third eye opened.

The first time I experienced a profound connection to all things, down to the atoms in the atmosphere, every star in the universe, every being walking the streets below — and everywhere else — came while watching one of those perfect Vancouver sunsets from my 21st floor, West End apartment’s balcony. The awakening began with the way the amber-orange sun’s rays illuminated the particulates in the light smog blanketing the city so that the very atmosphere seemed to glow. I could ‘see’ the atoms themselves, bombarded with the stream of photons from the sun which in turn were redirected into my eyes. The impact of them on my retina sent impulses to my mind, where neurons and synapses rendered them as if the air itself were formed of back-lit amber. Simultaneously, I could see the painting that my mind created, and the brush strokes of photons upon the canvas of atoms in the atmosphere. With two eyes I saw the world I create, while with the third, I saw the beauty underlying the creation. Layer upon layer of manifestation and creation.

My awareness then returned to the atoms glimmering over Vancouver, and from there traced photons back along their path, above the glittering skyscrapers and purple North Shore mountains, past the horizon and through the Earth’s thin atmosphere. I followed them past Venus and Mercury to the immensity of the sun, and then beyond so that the sun became a speck in an ocean of galactic stars, the galaxy became a speck in the ocean of galaxies, the universe itself became a speck in the realm of possible realities.

Time raced, stood still, was no more.

I was nothing. Not even a speck.

And yet, there I was, a point within infinity, an infinitesimal moment ago standing upon a balcony observing a glorious sunset, suddenly connected to everything. I was the cosmos, knowing itself.

Suddenly, immense. Infinite.

A moment of… there are no words. Only experience. Indescribable beauty. Unexpressable perfection.

Twenty-one floors below, corporate heels clicked on concrete. A shopping cart rolled in the opposite direction, heaped with treasurely discards. For a brief moment, infinity collapsed to a single point; my mind thought: dichotomy, juxtaposition, desire, marginalization, compassion, pity.

“Quiet, you.”

In the quiet, immensity again.

Oneness walking many paths simultaneously. A path for every being manifested. A path for every atom, every photon, every star, every quark, every concept.

No right. No wrong. No good or better or worse. Only what is. In this moment. In all moments. Neither too little, nor too much… nor even just right. A moment of perfection. I might have tilted my head back, and laughed at the sky.

Indescribable perfection. Oneness. Allness.

Ommmmmmmm…

Mmmmmmmmm…. as I feel that resonate within, I am reminded of my third ear. The story of how I learned to listen with it is longer and, in its own way, stranger, even more difficult to put into words. Eventually, I’ll try to put words to those experiences.

Exit mobile version