Space Inside

 I used to think that the Universe was vast and that I was an infinitesimal speck in relation to it.

There are times when our skin fits us so tightly that we begin to believe that we are our skin and our muscles and all the squishy parts underneath.  I think this becomes our modus, almost our default, for most of our adult lives.  But it is wrong.  At least I think it is.  I know because I have glimpsed the space inside.

When you find the quiet stillness within, that place where we are untouched but touch everything, something happens.  There is a lifting up, a feeling of being raised just a bit higher…a nudge at first…then, there is a twinkling, vaguely electric feeling that pulls you upward.  With eyes closed, you can see the tight space inside suddenly gain dimension.  The ceiling vaults.  It unfolds.  It twists, then collapses up, up…every up.  Then it stops.

This is as far as I have seen.  I guess I am not ready yet to see, truly see, what more there is.  

But I know it.  This is the space inside.  It is vast.  It is limitless.  It is greater than anything and everything that I can find outside of me.  My thinking parts cannot fully comprehend the infinite nature of this Universe, but my feeling parts can fully comprehend that there is something unending inside of me.  I am quite sure of this.

I think.

And if I am wrong, then simply think of me as another crackpot who is full of shit.  

Either way, there is peace in that quiet stillness.  There is joy in the calm space inside.  I think I should like to go back there again.  Yes, I think I would like to very much.