When I took the medication I took it as a cue to give myself permission to be totally for myself, and that any expression of love would be for me and this would be totally appropriate.

After ingesting the drug I wrote in a notebook: I embark upon this journey, this odyssey unto me. Behold the love of God. Oh how I wish to go Home, Father. Take me Home. Love me. Take care of me this day and forever. Today is a day of learning, of gaining that which is termed wisdom, a becoming and a discarding of that which is the source of unhappiness, of all that stands in the way of me knowing my God-Self, my Christ. Behold unto me, Father, that which I be -- God I am.

I waited. I didn't know what to wait for. I had asked for an unknown God to show up. Actually I think I just forgot to wait for something because all at once I found myself in a state of complete enjoyment.

As I lay, I felt relaxed and allowed for. There wasn't anything or anyone else to consider. As I was thinking of "leaving," I thought of all of the others present including my brother, just as one might when one thinks about leaving friends. A deep feeling of immense love and gratitude welled, as images of passionately holding my brother colored my mind's eye. I knew at once to get up -- not because I thought about it, but because that was my greatest delight, to be standing, and walking, and seeing the others. And I found my brother.

He welcomed my company and I was grateful for that. I held his head in my hands and kissed him and he was so sweet and I told him so. Everything was exactly as it should be. My leaving became my Home-coming. I thought I was going somewhere, but I just showed up where I was.

I wasn't alone. I was being totally entertained, wholly consumed in the experience of Being. I was happening to myself. I didn't do anything. I felt, I listened, I asked. Not in an ordinary sense, though. Feeling, listening, asking were all the same, the same action, the same event. It was all Being, for every moment was absolutely immediate and there was NO TIME to do one thing and then the next. There was NO TIME to do anything, it was already being done! In every moment I was listened to, and spoken to, and I was told the answers.

I wasn't alone. We played and laughed. My breathing had a soft, smooth quality that was offered no resistance by my body. I was actually breathing into my body. The breath went from without to within, but without a vehicle to do so. Imagine blowing up a balloon without ever having taken a breath to do so. I became as enamored with my body as a child is with a colorful balloon. All of a sudden I had a body because I had chosen one, and in the choosing of it I was given it, and I was happy for that. I was surprised to hear soft, gurgling, laughing sounds, and my eyes widened when I noticed my hands were those of a small child.

At some point I became concerned about whether the others were being cared for and I asked about them, and I laughed in utter delight with the recognition of how my thought had limited me to terms defined by time and space. Here I was enjoying the direct presence of God and all at once I was worried that the others were left out. It dawned on me, or I was told, that the others were enjoying themselves in God's presence, and there was no possibility that anyone had ever been or could be left out. I heard myself giggling again with relief at the obviousness of it all -- the way it is.

So I let the world sit on itself, to lay where it lay. I put it down as though I had been holding it up, keeping it in place. I was free to roam and to move about, this tremendous burden having been relieved of me. Not only was I free, but this very action allowed for the absolute freedom of the others.

I remember feeling constricted at the thought of the experience being simply a drug-induced phenomenon. I rolled over on to my side, adopting a fetal position, as though trying to turn my back upon the Presence, pouting for fear of eventual abandonment. And then I was told, "You see, you have free will. I will never leave you -- but you will." I smiled in recognition, relief, and gratitude. "When you are afraid, it is because you have stepped out of the moment. Love without fear is as simple as opening the hand." I watched as my hand repeatedly opened and closed. "Live it. Live it." And I told him that I would.

What can I tell you of my life now? I can make two observations regarding my life as a result of this experience. One is that I am not the same. I am more. I allow more. I express more of my love. I listen more. I am happy more. I play more. I laugh more. I feel more. I sleep more. The other observation is that I am the same person I have always been. I am more the same than ever.

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