Simultaneously I Am Myself, The Child I

And Only The Enlightened Can Recall Their Former Lives; For The Rest Of Us, The Memories Of Past Existences Are But Glints Of Light, Twinges Of Longing, Passing Shadows, Disturbingly Familiar, That Are Gone Before They Can Be Grasped, Like The Passage Of That Silver Bird On Dhaulagiri.

In The Clearness Of This Himalayan Air, Mountains Draw Near, And In Such Splendor, Tears Come Quietly To My Eyes And Cool On My Sunburned Cheeks. This Is Not Mere Soft-mindedness, Nor Am I All That Silly With The Altitude. My Head Has Cleared In These Weeks Free Of Intrusions- Mail, Telephones, People And Their Needs- And I Respond To Things Spontaneously, Without Defensive Or Self-conscious Screens. Still, All This Feeling Is Astonishing: Not So Long Ago I Could Say Truthfully That I Had Not Shed A Tear In Twenty Years.

The Mystical Perception (which Is Only "mystical" If Reality Is Limited To What Can Be Measured By The Intellect And Senses) Is Remarkably Consistent In All Ages And All Places. All Phenomena Are Processes, Connections, All Is In Flux...have The Mind Screens Knocked Away To See There Is No Real Edge To Anything, That In The Endless Interpenetration Of The Universe, A Molecular Flow, A Cosmic Energy Shimmers In All Stone And Steel As Well As Flesh.

Have You Seen The Snow Leopard? No! Isn't That Wonderful?

How Could I Say That I Wished To Penetrate The Secrets Of The Mountains In Search Of Something Still Unknown That, Like The Yeti, Might Well Be Missed For The Very Fact Of Searching?