Field Notes 20260309-20260315 - Retrospective
Perfect individual rain drops
Afternoon
- Sun: Pisces 25°
- Moon: Aquarius 17° | Waning Crescent
- Mercury Retrograde: 20260226-20260320
If you’ve been following the daily entries, this week’s theme has been loss and grief. My intention is never to make anyone cry, upset, or depleted after reading any one of these entries; instead, through my documentation and illumination of the days I fully intend to expand your perception.
After all, Percept - a mental concept that is developed as a consequence of the process of perception.
Not all weeks and entries will embody this mission. I am human and things happen in my life that command total attention and disruption to my otherwise consistent practice. When situations as such arise I will meditate on them and thus subsequently write about them. This was such a week.
Meditation
- 30 Minutes.
- Expand app, timer section, F18.
I thought today would be another aimless meditation but the tide of what was is receding and renewal is emerging.
Before laying down I had a contemplative thought and the only rational answer that came from it was in the form of a question: “When was the last time you were present?” At first this felt accusatory — of course I’ve been present many times this week! How could I not have been, to experience everything I did?
I stepped back from this internal reaction and realized I’ve let the ego drive the grieving process. That’s not the problem; of course this was going to happen. The ego is defined by the past — memories — and the future — plans. It solely exists as a thought form, which in itself is a useful definition: a thought about form.
The actual problem presented itself with the internal struggle of what I was feeling vs. what I was no longer intending to feel. The ego got comfortable; it was in its element, threatened by the destabilization of its existence by the sudden absence of another form. Form grieving form.
The “isness” of the being that departed the form didn’t stop being — the form did. My own “isness” recognizes this and understands that there is always a careful balance of integration of the experience (loss) and living in the eternal now.
It was time to return to the now by simply being in a meditative state, to let go and flow. That is what I did today.
The meditation itself was very much uneventful; the focus was clear and the objective achieved in the most honest way: let go, just be. One bump in the road was suddenly feeling my daybed shift from right to left as if someone bumped into it. No one is here, no one bumped into it physically, yet it still happened. Hmm, curious… and there it is, curiosity is coming back online.
Lucid Dream
Before my full exit I made my intent with strong and pointed language. This approach has begun to bear more fruit than duds this year, so I’m sticking with it. If I make an intent to lucid dream, astral project, or another altered state experience I now make it LOUD, with CONVICTION, seemingly YELLING about it.
The lucid dream spun up in my front hallway. I was standing in front of the entryway inside of my home, as real as waking life with all the senses that you’d expect. As soon as this sequence initiated I was lucid.
I walked to the front door, reached out my hand and gripped the door handle. Solid, metal, cool to the touch. I turned the handle down and opened the door. Then I swung open the decorative metal security door and walked out onto my front porch. The massive pine tree that should have been directly in front of me was missing.
It was bright but overcast, not so bad that it hurt my eyes — the best I can describe what I saw was “big grey sky”. Not just that, the sky opened and a massive downpour ensued. This might sound weird but what was happening didn’t feel like a “weather event”. The rain came down in perfect sheets, with perfect and individual rain drops, and in massive quantities.
Like a wave being individual and the ocean — each drop of rain perfect and individual, manifesting out of an unseen field.
I didn’t say anything. I simply walked out into the rain and soared into the sky through the torrential downpour. I never got wet; I simply rose and rose as high as I could go before an unseen force pulled me back and softly landed me back on my daybed, where I woke up feeling refreshed and hopeful.
Through The Week of 20260302-20260308
https://perceptindex.substack.com/p/field-notes-20260314-saturday
https://perceptindex.substack.com/p/field-notes-20260313-friday
https://perceptindex.substack.com/p/field-notes-20260312-thursday
https://perceptindex.substack.com/p/field-notes-20260311-wednesday
https://perceptindex.substack.com/p/field-notes-20260310-tuesday
https://perceptindex.substack.com/p/field-notes-20260309-monday