All Our Yesterdays • Wire Tuazon

Oct 4 to Oct 29, 2016 • Upstairs Gallery

I know I am dying. Scenes from different moments of my life flash before me with the speed of lightning. I also see totally new landscapes, and I hear sounds and words that are not in my memories. I can understand that these landscapes and sounds are my own moods: dark emotions that take me to gray chambers, to deep abysses, to heavy sounds, to faraway landslides. And, when hope sparkles, the green prairies stretch onward infinitely, and the sounds are hymns and kind words.

There, my body is lying faraway and still. But how can I see, and listen, and remember, and imagine, if I am separated from what once were my senses, from what was my brain, my pulse, my life giving breath?

In this confusion of spaces and times, I stay very close to my body. In this way, when I see dark labyrinths, I am inside my body; when I climb golden mountains, I feel my head in repose. The high, the low, the deep; everything that happened and everything I believe will happen, all have my body as the middle point. Everything that keeps me attached is the past, just as the shadow is attached to a body, without being a body.

Perhaps because of this, I am attached to the cruel moments of my life: to the frustrations, to the resentments, to the revenge … as if these were solid objects that block the light away from me. When there are no objects, the light shines fully and there is no shadow, and this is only possible if my memories have neither frustration, nor resentment, nor revenge, to stop the flow of light. Otherwise, they will stay here, trying to resolve what cannot be resolved.

Hence, life is the means that the mind uses to tear this net of shadows. I am thankful for having known the only important thing: to act with unity. I am thankful for having understood that life has a faraway meaning, a meaning that does not become exhausted by the absurdity of life itself. I am thankful for having guided my actions with my gaze always set in the direction of this meaning.

I feel compassion for those left behind, trapped in the net of shadows, believing that their little illusions were the only truth. Can someone or something ever free them?

I feel compassion for those whom the message of liberation reached, but who degraded it, because in their day their confusion will be enormous, unlike those who gave meaning to their lives, and also unlike those who have never known the message and yet acted with internal unity . . . because they, too, will arrive at the Light.

But now is the triumphant moment of my liberation, and I follow the images that my guide translates into these words:

“On the inner road, you may walk darkened or luminous. Attend to the two ways that unfold before you.

“If you let your being hurl itself toward dark regions, your body wins the battle and dominates. Then, sensations and appearances of spirits, of forces, of remembrances, will arise. This way, you descend more and more. Here dwell Hatred, Vengeance, Strangeness, Possession, Jealousy, and the Desire to Remain. If you descend even further, you will be invaded by Frustration, Resentment, and all those reveries and desires that have brought ruin and death upon humanity.

“If you impel your being toward the light, you will find resistance and fatigue at each step. There are things to blame for this fatigue of the ascent. Your life weighs, your memories weigh, your previous actions impede the ascent. The climb is made difficult by the action of your body which tends to dominate.

“In the steps of the ascent you will find strange regions of pure colors and unknown sounds.

“Do not flee purification which acts like fire and horrifies with its phantoms.

“Reject startling fears and disheartenment.

“Reject the attachment to memories.

“Remain in internal liberty, with indifference toward the dream of the landscape, with resolution in the ascent.

“The pure light dawns in the summits of the great mountain chain and the waters of the thousand-colors flow among unrecognizable melodies towards crystalline plateaus and pastures.

“Do not fear the pressure of the light that moves you further from its center, each time with increasing strength. Absorb it though it were a liquid or a wind. Certainly, in it is life.

“When you find the hidden city in the great mountain chain, you must know the entrance. But you will know this in the moment in which your life is transformed. Its enormous walls are written in figures, are written in colors, are “felt”. In this city are kept the done, and to be done. . . But for your inner eye, the transparent is opaque.”

Thus speaks my guide. I prepare myself to do so, and everything becomes transparent, and I become liberated from all ties . . . I am reconciled, I am purified. I am going to the city of Light, that city never perceived by the eye, whose singing has never been heard by human ears.

I feel that I am stopping, and that I am coming back to my body. My heart beats, my lungs work. Here I am again. But I know that this truth I was able to touch, will act sooner or later, converting the meaning of my life.

A Guided Experience from The Book of the Community