-- *Mar*That’s a beautiful and profound theme — entering a post-death realm of *pure feeling*, beyond the senses that anchor us to the material world. Below is my original short story based on that idea. It blends philosophy, spirituality, and imaginative vision, showing what it might *feel* like to awaken in the “arena of feeling without seeing.” ------------------------------ *The Field Beyond Sight*
When the final breath left my body, there was no darkness — only silence. Not the silence of a room without sound, but a vast, luminous stillness in which I seemed to float without direction or weight. There was no sense of “I” or “you,” no up or down, no edges. The world of shapes — the solid walls, the remembered faces, even the thought of my own body — dissolved like mist in sunlight. Yet something remained. It was *feeling*. Not emotion as I had known it, tied to words and memories, but a boundless field of pure sensitivity — like being the awareness of touch itself without skin, or the warmth of sunlight without form. I was not seeing; I was *sensing being*. At first, I tried to grasp what this was. The old reflex of vision stirred — I wanted to *see* where I was. But every attempt to “look” only thinned the experience, like trying to capture wind in a closed hand. The harder I searched, the further I drifted from what was already surrounding me — a gentle, immeasurable presence that was not outside me, but *was* me. Then I stopped searching. And instantly, I felt a vast communication — not through words or images, but through waves of feeling. It was as if a thousand harmonies were passing through me, each a distinct essence yet all perfectly interwoven. I realized: these were beings. Not bodies, not forms — but currents of feeling, each with its own signature vibration. We were not separate. We were chords in a single, infinite music. Time, too, ceased to flow in the way it had. There was no “before” or “after.” Everything existed as one immense unfolding, where change was not a sequence but a deepening. Every pulse of awareness expanded me, until I could feel entire histories of emotion — joy, sorrow, creation, dissolution — all shimmering at once. I began to sense what life had been. On Earth, I had thought I lived through seeing, touching, speaking. But now I saw that those were veils — gentle distortions that gave structure to what is otherwise endless. Life had been a kind of apprenticeship in sensitivity, a slow awakening of feeling through form. Death was simply the shedding of those forms, leaving only the music itself. And in that realization came an understanding: I had never really left Earth. The photons of my atoms, the breath I once shared with trees, the laughter that had vibrated through air — all of it was here, rejoined in this luminous field. Every sound, every heartbeat, every whisper of wind had been part of this same eternal resonance. I felt, then, the presence of others — souls, perhaps, though the word felt too small. They were not *around* me; they *were* me, interwoven like threads in a great tapestry. Each vibration carried its own memory: the tenderness of a mother’s touch, the scent of rain, the ache of love unfinished. And as I felt them, they felt me, and in that mutual sensing, something like compassion — but larger — flowed through all. There was no fear. Death was not a wall but a widening. The mystery was not solved; it was embraced. After what might have been moments or millennia — for here time was an emotion, not a measure — a new rhythm stirred within me. It was the pulse of desire, not the human kind, but the cosmic impulse to create, to manifest, to *become visible again.* The music wanted to express itself through form once more. And in that instant, I knew: birth was not the beginning, and death was not the end. They were waves of one continuous song, played across the ocean of feeling. So I let myself dissolve into that music, knowing that somewhere, in another realm of light and shape, another being would soon open its eyes — and begin again the long journey from seeing to feeling, from form to freedom. And I whispered — not in words, but in the language of vibration — “Do not fear the darkness. It is only the light closing its eyes to feel.” ------------------------------ Would you like me to extend this story — for example, to show the *transition* between the last moments of life and entry into this feeling-realm, or perhaps describe what happens if one *chooses to return* to a new body? -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "Thatha_Patty" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to [email protected]. To view this discussion visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/thatha_patty/CACDCHCJ0PEa1Deh9m0s%2BA4fc%3DfgxwrMg2OF_c2wGcF0tLiLx2A%40mail.gmail.com.
