what day this light becomes

the raging madness envelopes me. i wake this morning at 3:45, awake cold and tired. there is no light and the living/meditation room where i just had spent 3 hours last night until 1am, in uncomfortable meditation. arising to fall into fitful slumber and now risen. the coffee and raisin toasts with peanut butter, my brother has been eating in gobs and i will need more soon.settled with my cup and towel and toast, i feel unusually plain, like a piece of white bread on a plate. i wonder if this is my tamas cycle begun and nothing good will come of it. perhaps erasing the writing from yesterday, which were amazing, from the whiteboard isnt a good idea since i dont feel anything coming up in me, no idea or spark, no pull to write. but i take heedance of my daily process and open my almost filled notebook, though i do write only on one side of a page and not like my brother who is copying two books, the mother book and jed mckennas diatribe each from one of the two covers of his notebook. all is writing and letting something move from me and onto the page and after a cup and the toast, so perfect for my staring gun, i grab one more cup and delicately open my book and start to set a word on the empty page.i write without stop until 5am like a man possessed, and even i am shocked at the words and their power. transmission. eloquence.each a part of a whole. another manifesting-o. i stop and transcribe the exact words of the first 5 pages to the whiteboard in small even letters so it can all fit, i number them 1 through 4 and the last i write across the bottom and number it 0 as it has a darkness that needs warning. as the 5:45 crosses the clock, one devotee enters and silently reads the board, turning after the first 4 to salute me with her hands in a prayerful posture and a small bow. the last 0 can only be read while kneeling before the board. another two enter but the time is short and everyday they see my writings displayed in erasable marker across the large white board. we prepare to meditate. all through meditation my mind continues to receive messages, writing, revelations of the meaning of eternity and nothingness and what lays beyond the last frontier. i am transfixed and as the bell rings at the end, i grab my note book and begin feverishly writing more and more. one of the elders comes to sit next to me in my madness to talk to get my shakti, but i hurriedly wave him away and run to my bedicule to write in unhampered solitude another full set of captured visions, emerging an hour later to find the one devotee that might actually get there sitting and writing each of my words carefully and thoughtfully in her notebook, stopping to stare and think many times and remarking how incredible my words have become. she writes and my brother emerges from his slumber and prepares coffee. i am in the state beyond the body in awareness and distance separates me as if from a another planet.Brother reads and remarks he can feel the transmission in the words and not the meaning. i am filled with some cosmic awareness, deep and old. i sit and talk to the aging devotee of the reason why emptiness is needed and the ecstasy of the return from oblivion as the truth of the loneliness is set into the human heart created from that endless awareness. i ask her if she understands why disease and poverty and pain exist. she mumbles something about learning from them and then i ask her why good health and wealth and love exist. for what can exist if it is not the expression of its own duality in a darker reality. to have one we must accept the other. all is duality and nothing is the only end. then to the rocky mountain trail and the harsh uphill over a very difficult climb, and i feel only the flight and the rush of ascension to the very top. we descend in easy camaraderie and talk of the states i have been experiencing, the 11 chapter of gita and the upcoming Get Real workshop this weekend and last nights public talk that sat shree gave at the integral center in boulder, and the energies let loose from that. the day is a marvelous beginning and it is noon and time to go home and lunch and then to write at starbucks.