I, well something, was driving south on the 101 freeway by the sea
thinking about the mountain in the distance beyond Camarillo
And the indescribable-iridescent blue gray of the ocean at dusk in Ventura Harbor
All in my mind and the crowd of loving beings
with me,
each me, and no one else
telling me to remember who I am, right now,
And that I could remember right now.
Telling me
as if they were not me.
But they are
And I am not a person

I am not a person is a very odd feeling that makes my head hot.
Before we got in the car at the Krishnamurti Library a blessing came in the form of lights, one after the other, red, blue, green, violet.
Show me the path, I prayed.
There is no path he said. You are already there. Wake up.

And with Allegra
who is also me and
who has been telling me to remember who I am since Ojai
Where the person started asking dumb questions about what she meant
Knowing exactly what she meant but wanting to be difficult
You could do it right now
they want you to know.
I know.
The spine is growing hotter and she is worried she is upsetting me.
The person is wondering how she is going to drive home in this condition, but it occurs.
And I am not upset although not being a person is very odd.
In Ventura she tells me her head was split open and she had 360 degree vision and was one with everything but it’s gone now.
The mountain is in the mind and the cars, freeway, ocean, Allegra, gurus, all in the mind and not my mind either.
And I don’t know how not to be a person except there it is, over and over. I am not a person.