LINK

review.

I.

Link had just become human. And now here he was under the almond tree trying to absorb the nuances of the physical experience. He sat facing the almond tree, completely absorbed in trying to penetrate it simply with a thought. On every other previous visit to Earth, he had been able to move through any object at will, and he expected no less this time. It was simply his way of being. And so he continued to sit there, before the almond tree, engrossed in effort and wonder. It was four pm, but he did not know it. In fact, he did not even know it was the year 2010. A line of concentration appeared on his brow. Still nothing happened. He could not understand why, on this occasion, a simple desire did not result in his moving easily through the tree.

Amidst all of his effort, one strange sensation continued to compete for his attention. From very close confines, he could sense a continuous rhythm, almost soothing in its constancy…a slow steady flow that seemed somehow to be connected to him, yet connected too with the outside. There it was one second, and the next it was leaving – a constant flow between inside and outside. He stayed with it, and now he could really feel it. In…out…in…out…rising…falling. With every intake, something in him seemed to heave ever so slightly, then relaxing gently on the outflow. He became engrossed in that sensation, observing it…absorbing it…wondering why it seemed so entwined in his being. S l o w l y, he came to the realization that the sensations he was picking up on were in fact his own…the rhythm of breath…inhaling, exhaling…that pattern of connection with the cosmos. And then it dawned on him that the transfer was complete. He was matter. He was in fact human.

He reeled under the weight of that realization. He was no longer on Altura in the realm of the formless. His wish had been granted. He had longed to become human in order to help the Earthlings remember again their connection with spirit. He had known too that in order to truly absorb the human experience, this would mean his trading his ephemeral form for bones and sinew, flesh and blood, and all of the paraphernalia that came with it. And he had fully chosen the experience. But now that the choice had become real, it was like being hit with thunderbolts. Prior to this, he had gained his knowledge of the material world only from research and observation. Now he could add to that the overwhelming reality of…sensation.

He felt the soft flutter of the breeze against his skin as it whispered its welcome, subtly caressing his form. The serenade of birds nearby joined in the welcome, heralding him gently into the realm of the physical. The full range of scents that pervaded the air, cascaded in on him from far and near – an avalanche of fragrances and odors of nature. The raw flavor of each of the senses descended on him - that human feature, that more than any other feature, was a source of curiosity for the other realms. He vowed that he would in time learn to discern their individual qualities, now that he too could explore the medley of sensations that served to keep humans so identified with their physical form.

He was enthralled. His mind could not contain the weight of discovery of his human condition, going from intense exhilaration at the possibilities this represented, to the depths of fear. What if the humans here rejected him, experiencing him as different? What if he got cut off from his home forever never being able to make it back? That thought left him with a deep sense of loss, so vast, that as he pursued it, he got entangled in its unrelenting expanse. He focused his thought energy outside of his being, reaching out to encompass other thought forms, but there was…nothing. Nothing but his own thoughts coming back at him. The solace and comfort that he had always known in the unity of thought with the whole, was no longer to be his. There was no isolation imaginable that could be greater than this. He could not stay. He could not leave. And there was no stage in between. As he bounced between these thoughts, he was assailed by a doubt so intense that it took on a life of its own, coursing through him, clawing, cold and snakelike leaving its mark on every cell, every fiber of his being. Everywhere it landed, he could feel it eroding subtle levels of his life force. And then he sensed the onslaught of an even more formidable assailant. You cannot avoid me, it hissed. FEAR. In its wake everything quailed, as it spread through his being casting a dark and ominous shadow. Every life-affirming atom was drained of its vigor. Even doubt was annihilated, replaced by an energy so powerful, so consuming, that one could not but be pulled into its radius. He found himself swallowed in its clutch, spiraling downwards into its bottomless pit, buffeted on all sides by the darkest thought forms. You’re alone now, alone….One man…isolated. Without the unity of the whole to support you, who are you? How will you survive?

His upper extremity seemed to be the source of these ridiculous notions. With every ounce of his will, he tried to compress that area, willing it to collapse until there would be no space there to house the terrifying thoughts. His eyes fastened tightly; his face puckered up, grimacing and twisting, with the effort. But nothing changed. The thoughts kept tumbling in even faster.

You wanted individuality. Now you’ve got it.

A separate unit doomed to a life of struggle against the multitudes that crowd your world at the mercy of every other individual. And the rule here is – first come, first served. And guess what – those who get there first always have oversized needs.

"That’s what it is to be individual. To struggle against the others for survival at all costs."

Others will always be your enemy. Always outside of you.

No shared whole here. You’re on your own. Everyone is.

His face contorted into a mask of lines and creases in his effort to rid himself of his upper extremity, which seemed to be the source of his torment, but nothing happened, nothing but the roar of the individual runaway thought forms that engulfed him.

You gave up the whole. And now you have me – Fear - your constant companion.

If all of this was true, then this would have to be the hell that he had heard so much about. What had he gotten himself into? He could feel the quickening of his breath, its gentle flow jolted into quick, short spurts, and then his heartbeat joined in. What was happening here? Panicked, he again engaged his will to eliminate that avalanche of thoughts and restore some normalcy to his being. But the thoughts had taken on a life of their own, allowing him no choice but to give up the battle as the volley of thoughts raged on. His drooping frame seemed to have lost inches in stature.

But just as he was about to slip into the oblivion of hopelessness, a tiny bird alighted on the projection that lay limply on his side. Hand. He recalled the information on human anatomy that he had absorbed while on Altura. The bird busied itself pecking on the prongs connected to the end of his hand. Fingers he recalled. Chirping, it pecked away, looking up at him in turn. His fingers responded to the peck with a sudden jerk. Somewhere in his form, something had triggered movement, and it jolted him into stark awareness. This new discovery of movement held a fascination for him. The bird was unmoved. Over and over it repeated the same process, pecking, peeking, pecking, peeking. Bird and man communed in an unspoken exchange. The message delivered, the bird looked up one last time, and it took wing. Something about its intensity and boldness, its persistence had released in him a shift of energy.

Though they clutched at him, the dark figures that had clothed his thoughts could no longer hold him.

He was on the threshold of the greatest adventure of his existence. There was no place for fear. Released from the prison of his dark thoughts, he became at once, buoyant. He could physically feel the tension leaving his body. He turned his attention to his fingers now lying limply at his side. Slowly, he moved them up and down, sideways and backward, first one, then another and another with ever increasing dexterity. Soon all five fingers were engaged in a rotating dance of varying speeds. He was fascinated by this discovery of movement. To him it seemed magical, and he could feel within him, a mounting thrill at all there would be to discover. It was as if he had lifted a screen and was able to see through a different lens. Perceived through his new lens, it seemed the world rejoiced with him.

Everything was encased in hues of soft color. Each physical form seemed to replicate itself, but in ever-expanding circles of light and color that grew more radiant as they expanded. Form cushioning form at subtler and subtler levels of expression as they multiplied outwardly. It dawned on him that he was perceiving the auras of living things, in an unending energy exchange. The kaleidoscopic fiesta entranced him, and he bathed his visual sense in its soothing tones, its subtle shades and deep hues. It was like riding rainbows; and as his visual sense cascaded through this parade of color, he could feel every fiber in his being coming alive, wowed by the magic of this dance of energy and light. Around the grassy meadow in the distance, it was soft and seductive, light and airy around the grass at his feet; merged with the trees across from him, it was spirited, colorful and glowing. He reveled in this gaiety, and his spirit responded in a burst of freedom and laughter. As he listened to the waves of his laughter vibrating on the air, he knew that he had discovered joy. Did humans too experience joy, even in small amounts, maybe, sometimes? And if they did, why would one entertain any other feeling?

As his laughter faded in the distance, he sat back ruminating over the emotions he had just experienced. Sitting in one place, simply with the vehicle of observation, he had succeeded in creating a variety of sensations, so powerful, that they now resided in his body and memory, as tangibly as if they had been the outcome of actual experience. Observation. He already knew that the early acquaintance with this faculty was a wake-up call, which would serve him well. He wondered whether humans were fully aware of the awesome power of this gift.

A falling leaf landed on his hand. He stared at it, noting the uneven maze of lines and creases. And again he felt that twitch, as his fingers closed in on the leaf. He could feel the varied lines and creases of the object. Opening his hand, he became acutely aware not only of the patterns and color, but of a certain solid quality of the object that lay in his palm. This solid quality he realized was what gave birth to the sense of touch.

On Altura, form remained subtle and ephemeral. One simply merged with the experience, not at all separate from it. Here, in his new planet home, color and form took on a three-dimensional quality which made objects solidify in a manner he had never anticipated. Colors had lost the radiance they carried on Altura, but, merging completely with the objects to which they added form, they came alive in a most unexpected way. On Earth, it seemed that objects were experienced as an external reality that one could choose to hold or to observe as a separate entity.

Altura had not prepared him for the bombardment of mixed sensations he had experienced since getting here. While he had been informed, it had not prepared him either for the stark reality of how vastly different the experience of form was for the Earthling. It had not prepared him for the shock of the weightiness and density of the human form. But then, how could it? Altura – that world that he had left behind was not of the physical realm. It was a world of the spirit, a world of light and freedom – where the thoughts and interests of the unit were simultaneously shared with the whole, and where by a process of osmosis almost, one accessed like thoughts or information at will. In that free-floating sea of information, the possibilities for accessing knowledge on anything – past, present and future – were endless. It was all available at the flick of a thought, information at will.

In Altura the notion of time did not exist. It was a timeless existence. There simply was experience, and that was selected at will by the unit life forms, from the great expanse of possibilities across continuums. To move through a garden of exquisite beauty, one simply had to imagine it, and one was in it, of it…in the Alturan, non-physical sense. Colors were awesome, unlimited in their brilliance and their subtlety. A popular pastime in Altura was to explore the realm of color, always creating new variations of hues and tones. In Altura, he’d always had lots of fun conjuring up objects, situations, forms and feelings, but always he could make them disappear, with the same ease with which he made them manifest. And none of them attached themselves to him. They were of his making, but not of his being. This living attachment to one’s thoughts and feelings that Earthlings experienced was a total surprise to him, and one that he just could not fathom.

In Alturan life, devoid of physical form, experience was not filtered through the screen of the senses. It was all ephemeral…unraveled for the sheer thrill of enjoyment, learning, entertainment, inspiration or any of a number of transient reasons. Unlike the human experience, the Alturan experience left no residue, no long-lasting tangible effects. It was accepted as a transient outcome of the gift of choice. The cumulative effect was that the experience of each unit, each being, fed into the whole, enriching the bank of knowledge and experience. There was a real balance and communion between the unit and the whole, allowing for true community. Each unit gave full expression to its creativity, idiosyncrasies and curiosities, feeding the whole, with the end result being an ever expanding and enriched Whole.

On Altura, unimpeded by the separateness of physical form, and the limitations