Some of the most fascinating images I have ever experienced, come to me when I first open my eyes following the meditative section of my practice.

A bird flits by just a few feet from my face and lands in a nearby tree branch. Calling directly at me, the bird cocks its head as amazing colors shimmer and undulate in the early morning light.

A strange, mosquito-like insect (but one that doesn’t bite) lands on my forearm and looks at me. Curious, yet defiant. As if he’s challenging my right to be there while deciding if he might also want to be my friend.

One of the big yellow leaves (as from yesterday’s episode) twirls in the breeze less than two feet from the ground. The strand of spider web holding it there (for perhaps seven or eight seconds) is completely invisible. Awestruck, I watch the leaf spin and dance like it’s in a tornado-creating wind tunnel. I imagine some freak air current holding it there before settling on my spider web theory. The strand has to be at least thirty feet long to be suspending it in that position. Amazing! My attention is riveted to this bizarre vision until the leaf drops.

Looking away for just a moment, I immediately regret doing so as I hear a strange-sounding thud. Almost like someone firmly stomping the ground. The sound came from the exact spot of the previously twirling leaf. I imagine some spirit of the jungle, annoyed by my having turned away from her leaf-spinning enticement at just that moment. I see no indication of what else might have fallen to have made that sound.

As I try and not think of this spectral possibility, the breeze picks up a bit and several leaves begin falling under the canopy. One strangely shaped leaf hugs the tree trunk as it falls. Appearing like it’s in some kind of alternate universe where gravity has rotated forty-five degrees. The odd shaped thing hesitates at one point, like it’s taking a breather before continuing it’s run down the side of the tree.

I see an oddly moving dot out of the corner of my right eye. I assume the out-of-focus speck to be something either in there, or on my lash. By the way it appears to follow the movements of my eye, I take it to be a “floater”. I’ve had them for many years. But some how I feel that this is something else entirely. So I make a more concerted effort to focus on it and… for a very brief moment, a nanosecond, I succeed. I’m surprised to see an incredibly tiny insect, later speculated by a friend to be a hover fly.

His cover blown, the little guy zips away. Like he could tell by the change in my eye’s pupil…

I see you (^_^)


More to come…