Imagine, dear friends, you have crossed some spiritual threshold, some boundary, in the midst of your meditations, only to have no guidance and knowledge as to what the boundary you’ve crossed is!

That’s what happened to me last night (or more properly, early this morning, right after midnight). A buzzing in my ears, a moment of deep silence of mental chatter, but awareness and ego kept going, yet suddenly I knew had crossed something on the journey but am left without a map to tell you what that could even be.

As I review my online journal, I’m utterly flabbergasted to see I haven’t updated Craving Aletheia in a much longer time than I had imagined, though I have kept another diary, albeit not consistently.

There’s nothing left for me to do except keep on the journey, and at some point, the Grace of the Divine will push me past the final threshold, whatever that may be.

But now my ego has found something, a journey upon which to be taken, in which it will be burnt up just fine, a medium in which I will pour and pour and pour myself until there’s nothing left of me to give and then only the Absolute (by whatsoever name one might call that) will pour forth, exhaustless.