Archive for the ‘the tingle’ Tag

Faulty Flight

I’m not afraid to tell my students that I want to fly. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have this dream. But so far, that’s the only time it happens. You know, in dreams.

Like last night…

As is common in many of these dreams, it begins with a long jump. No, not like in a track meet, just a running leap. (I’ve always enjoyed doing that too.) What happens next triggers the flying. Rather than following the trajectory to the ground, these jumps loiter — gravity-defying, prolonged extensions of the jump. I seldom hit the ground after that as I realize either: it’s happened at last! (if I’m fooled) or I’m dreaming! (if I’m aware). In either case, flying follows.*

Last night? Fooled again. Once again I thought I’d finally done it. The flying was the swimming variety rather than soaring free. Lots of work to stay aloft but worth all the effort. How much better it would have been if the effort included remembering my mental check list.

*If I’m aware enough, I’ll land intentionally and send love. To be honest, it’s really hard to give up the chance to fly to do something far more important. I’m ashamed to admit there have been a few times I kept flying after I remembered the writing on the pad by the bed. Upon waking, there’s no joy in the memory of the flight. Only the knowledge of yet another missed opportunity to make a difference.


A nod to the tingle Thursday when speaking to classes about the possibilities for next semester. (Just staying true to documenting the occurrences.)

Two for Two

I certainly don’t expect this to happen every day…

This morning, before school, a student (John S) asked me if stories in comic books (he’s writing and drawing one) follow the same structure of stories in movies and books.

As we talked about the similarities, wave after wave of energy cascaded down from the crown of my head. An amazing sustained rush that I’ve experienced few times before. As with yesterday, I tried not to show the effects outwardly but when the comparison got to The Matrix and the story arc that contains the metaphoric death of the hero… well, I somehow managed to hold it together. Barely.

I can be moved to tears so easily when in that zone.

So, why am I admitting this? Why say it out loud? From this page:

Experience has taught me that written affirmation of insights, inspirations, and interactions is rewarded. The more diligent the acknowledgment, the more profound the response.

Some things are more important than the illusion of privacy.

The Feeling of Truth

I was feeling pretty good last night at having finally acted. Excuses were shed and this project began anew after an eight year hiatus.

But then I thought about what had been missing…

How long had it been, I wondered, since I was immersed in that sensation? Was it gone forever? Or was it simply banished to the land of few and far between, like lucid dreams and visions seemingly were?

Then today, it happened three times in a row — one immediately following the other. Total immersion!

It happened just after class began, during an otherwise innocuous series of moments while discussing the beauty of Avatar with two students (Samantha and Kendal) who’d just seen it (due in part to the conversation over here). The sensations came out of nowhere, amazingly rich and deep, as if to confirm: yes, the adventure continues.*

I can’t convey just how exciting it was to feel it so strongly. The partner who shone the light in the darkness had returned. It’s as I wrote here:

…The sensation I’m experiencing is consistent with other visions and moments of “knowing.” A tingling sensation that seems to begin at the top of my head is rippling through my body. I’ve long associated this electric sensation as a confirmation of Truth. A November 10, 1981 journal entry is typical of many others. It reads:

If I can hold on to my trust and believe the feeling of truth that engulfs me when understanding occurs, a door will open.

No doubt about it. Relaunching the IX was a good idea.

And I should probably see Avatar at least one more time.

*I must admit that I didn’t react outwardly (as I wanted too). Didn’t want to freak out the kids, you know. It was such a strong sensation though I felt like asking if anyone could see it. It honestly felt like this.