A LOUNGE CALLED HEAVEN
It was intriguing that though he lived on mountain tops, far from a modern civilization, at an altitude where only eagles spanned the spotless skies, yet, he knew of aeroplanes. He had vivid visions of modern luxury crafts whizzing in the skies with passengers aboard it , having a sky party. He smiled to Himself that man could actually sit, and fly at the same time.
Shiva could sit on the mountain top in a silent self introspection, and fly through amazing mindscapes; but it was more of an internal thing. The planes, flew like the eagle in the sky, it was difficult to imagine they were not made of flesh and blood,they seemed so majestically animated, like huge silver eagles. He also knew these huge eagles were called Boeings.
Was He a great meditator with a fantastic imagination, a man who could see the future?
Or was it, that He was actually a time traveller, who, when he flew over mountains in an airplane, had a hazy but substantial recollection of a distant past, so past that it was definitely another life, if not in another time.
Seated in the lounge of an International Airport,sipping his coffee, Shiva smiled to Himself again:
Airport lounges were, in a way, the modern analogy of reincarnation. We come and go, only to receive and see off others. Ultimately all of life seemed to be a preparation for a much greater flight,
and somewhere between the arriving and departing, somewhere between missing heartbeats for a loved one, and embarking that great flight onwards to an eternal sky, we had a lounge, called Heaven.
Shiva could sit on the mountain top in a silent self introspection, and fly through amazing mindscapes; but it was more of an internal thing. The planes, flew like the eagle in the sky, it was difficult to imagine they were not made of flesh and blood,they seemed so majestically animated, like huge silver eagles. He also knew these huge eagles were called Boeings.
Was He a great meditator with a fantastic imagination, a man who could see the future?
Or was it, that He was actually a time traveller, who, when he flew over mountains in an airplane, had a hazy but substantial recollection of a distant past, so past that it was definitely another life, if not in another time.
Seated in the lounge of an International Airport,sipping his coffee, Shiva smiled to Himself again:
Airport lounges were, in a way, the modern analogy of reincarnation. We come and go, only to receive and see off others. Ultimately all of life seemed to be a preparation for a much greater flight,
and somewhere between the arriving and departing, somewhere between missing heartbeats for a loved one, and embarking that great flight onwards to an eternal sky, we had a lounge, called Heaven.
~ SHIVA, The Ultimate Time Traveller. Part 2.
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