-The following is an extract taken directly from the journals of Kashiv and the words appear here as they were there. The page has no date and time nor can we tell for certain where or which time of the day it was written-
And I have just started to have visions and I don’t know what that means, but I see myself floating in the air and I am living and the smile on my face is that of an eternal bliss, like that of a dead man’s. I see pages of books and diaries flying around me, they don’t levitate like me, they are still slaves to the gravity, the magnetic pull but the inscriptions on the page remain there with me, they float juxtaposed with me.
There in that metaphysical scene I read a torn page belonging to the earth but written by me. I remember vividly I never wrote it but in the abstruse setting everything seemed to be me. This reminds me of the following lines:
“And this is not the only mountain and you are not the only being, but, this is the only mountain and you are the only soul.”
When I am free from the vision I walk the streets in a stupor, dazed and confused, I bump into things and people who seems to be baffled and perplexed like me. Everyone stares at me, I feel, and at the same time they look not to notice me, as if staring and looking through me. I feel belonged and aloof at the same time. I am a drunk. My steps are unorderly. And all the while I read that torn page in my mind.
He kept looking at the distance,
and could not find any resistance,
his vigil was in no way a menace,
but an act to look beyond the fence.
Died alas, with hand on his heart,
believed afresh was a better start,
and was facing grave on his depart,
oh Kashiv! what a meticulous art.
I know there was something I was missing in there, there was something jumping and shouting and asking my attention but I couldn’t see where the shout was coming from. I try to put it off my mind, I try to see around. I try to be in the moment.
As I walk I see a dog, running around in circles trying to catch a tail. I laugh, a short laugh of tease, and think, how stupid the dog is, unaware that the tail it is chasing, is its own. It has always been with it. A realization was enough to give it a divinity.
And I think of the face in my vision. My face.
And his was the face,
purest I had ever seen,
at peace none at ever been.
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