The Machinery of the Universe

by Rikki LaCoste

In an email on http://groups.yahoo.com/group/PSYCHOPOMP/ I wrote:

... I was having a conversation with a pagan friend one day, concerning topics of spirituality in the modern world.  And I pointed out a concept from what he was saying that reminded me of something.  He was talking about what I called the "Vision of the Machinery of the Universe."

    My pagan friend's eyes began to glaze over, as I began to point out the similarities between his experience and what I understood it as, within my own tradition.  I don't think he really wanted to hear about it, because he responded, as if I had somehow demeaned his experience, "Rikki, a spiritual path that has 'machines' in it, is not a valid spiritual path."

    And verily, mine friend didst thus utter unto me ...

Of course, I thoroughly disagreed with him - though to myself - because I know him to be a person who has immoveable authoritative opinions about all subjects conceivable and inconceivable, on all planes of earth and heaven.  I would have had a better chance convincing a mongoloid donkey to run for office in the Philippines.

 

My opinion pretty much parallels that of Liber AL (The Book of the Law, III-46).  "Success is your only proof," in particular.  I remember when I was attending St Michael's Choir School, during a Christmas concert.  I was to sing a solo in front of hundreds of people at the famous Massey Hall in Toronto.  My solo was to happen in another couple of songs.  My heart was jack-hammering with anticipation.  I was in grade eight at the time, and we were singing the grandiose Halleluiah Chorus.

 

I had trained since grade four in choral, vocal, choir, music theory, piano, and (and this is the relevant part:) breathing.  Usually in classical, baroque, or chamber scores, where to take a breath is sometimes questionable.  First of all, we train in breath control so that we breathe as little as possible, and project as much as possible.  Where there is a musical rest, it is open season for breathers.  But otherwise, everyone in your part (soprano, alto, tenor, or bass) must breathe at the very same moment together.  That's when breath-commas are written into the spot on the score.

 

Anyway, with my heart hammering like that, and my having a hard time taking the allotted breaths, a very curious thing began to occur.

 

I was suddenly able to sing, breathe, and project - PERFECTLY.  What's more, a "buzz" began to emanate from my spine, outwards, into the rest of my body. Rather than fuck up, I just reveled in this sensation, which seemed to feel pretty good, and I was singing the Halleluiah Chorus even more perfectly - like, 150% perfect!  Some of this perfection was on account of the sensation of time slowing down.

 

Then I began to emit light.  The buzzing turned into effervescent white-blue light.  I was convinced that everyone in the audience was seeing me turn into a light bulb! Then, the whole choir began to sing the Halleluiah Chorus perfectly as well.  Everything was perfect!  We had never sung so flawlessly and so powerfully before!

 

I didn't think about "thinking" at the time.  I was singing perfect music with my perfect choir, and reveling in the sensation and vision of being perfect and, um, fluorescent.

 

Then, tears began to flow from my eyes.  Honest, heart-felt tears of joy and rapture, as something manifested before me.  This is difficult to explain, but somewhere in front of me, looming and cyclopean, was what I called "God" (this was a Catholic choir school of course).  "He" was felt, rather than seen, and the benevolence and pride was streaming from the almighty Dude.

 

Before my solo rolled around, I had snapped out of the reverie, and did my damndest job singing "This is the Day."  Still, I was still reeling from the experience, which was the foundation that was to evolve into deep spiritual feelings and practice.

 

I also later found out that prolonged and disciplined breath control (such as used by chanting Buddhist monks, as well as others - like choir schools) causes a lot of carbon dioxide to enter the bloodstream (rather than be normally exhaled from the lungs), and a certain hyperventilation experience occurs, often accompanied by light-headedness, curious physical sensations throughout the body, and hallucinations.

 

I found out about this medical fact, and it didn't spoil a thing.  An experience is an experience, and no mundane explanation can whisk away the value of the experience.  With the proper state of mind, such explanations just make the experience more interesting.

 

Love Rikki LaCoste

Blessed Be and 93

... to last week's editorial