Excerpt by: - Aug 26, 2015
Chapter 3: Spectrum Fusion
In closing the doors to the outside world, I connected with my inside world.
I was seven years old, standing in a field of grass sucking on a delicious California orange, staring directly into the hot summer sun. I often stared directly into the sun for reasons I couldn’t explain, other than I really enjoyed how I felt when I did. During this particular incident, I experienced all things merge together—the orange, the sun, and me—with no definition where one ended and the other began. We were all one. I was the burning sun tasting the orangey bliss of my creation through my own creation of myself. I was the projectionist, the movie screen, the audience and the actors. I was, in that moment, the center of the universe, and all that I was experiencing was a miraculous expression of an unknowable, infinite universe of Love. I was in a state of complete surrender and, at the same time, a divine selfishness that knew that all of creation existed for me, and that I was all of creation. I felt completely satisfied and perfect and filled with a Love that can only be described as divine. As a child, I had no idea how precious this experience was. It was a perfectly normal experience for me, and an experience I assumed all people had.
Of course, I had no idea that I was engaging in the esoteric practice of sun gazing, used by the high priests of the Ancient Egyptians, Mayans, and others to awaken, stimulate, and increase the size of the pineal gland, or third eye, and boost melatonin and serotonin, the “feel good” hormones. I was just doing it because I felt so blissful when I did. I also had no idea that the yogis in the Far East practiced sun gazing to awaken their kundalini,[i] which I learned about years later when it was suggested I’d experienced a kundalini awakening, with the added footnote that I was fortunate this happened to me when I was quite young, before I had become embedded with beliefs and ideas that the kundalini experience so dramatically destroys, often with great pain and suffering. It was thought that my youth and innocence allowed me to perceive this experience as more of a “this is the true nature of life” versus the more common experience in later years of “My god, what is happening to me! I’ve gone mad!” sort of thing.
I accepted this explanation when I heard it in my late twenties, but today I think there was another ingredient. Typically, spectrum kids are so overloaded with stimuli that they cannot process the input; this is directly related to their cognitive abilities. I believe in that moment of sun gazing, I was overloaded and flooded with stimuli, but rather than short-circuit my sensory network, it all got turned on at once. I’ve had similar experiences under the influence of signal-enhancing drugs, like LSD or psilocybin. If controlled overstimulation can enhance our cognitive potential, it opens the door to the idea that spectrum children are phenomenally gifted but in an ability that our culture has little interest in. It also suggests that spectrum kids are, in a way, “tripping all the time.” This would partly explain why, years later, the world made sense when I was tripping but seemed crazy and out of control when I was not.
[i] Kundalini is a complex subject, but here is the basic concept: Kundalini is the Shakti energy, feminine, creative, evolutionary force of infinite wisdom that lives inside every single one of us. Usually represented as a snake coiled three and a half times around, Kundalini lies dormant at the base of the spine. She the Shakti awakens in the base of the spine she starts her journey back to Shiva at the top of the head. It’s the reuniting of the small, separate sense of Self with the Divine. The drop of water is rejoining the ocean.