This morning I was meditating again in the Matrimandir, here at Auroville. Stepping out in into the world afterwards, I felt a strange drunkenness. The blue of the sky, the green of the grass, the warmth of the sun, it all felt more vivid, more intense, more alive.
Then I hugged one of the many trunks of the vast, old banyan tree. With that, I felt myself melting into the warm, soft space of non-differentiation, rather like the feeling of post-coital bliss. Inside myself, I could feel that the contented intoxication was emanating from my very centre. I was drunk on being.
When the consciousness is in such states, it all feels rather surreal. Yet perhaps it would be more appropriate to regard those times as the real. Perhaps our more normal rigid, sober, consciousness of separation is the surreal view, or even the unreal view.
