Back when I was in high school in the early 1970s I bought a book on meditation for some unknown reason. In bed that night I started skimming the book, reading a few pages here and there. I randomly found an exercise instructing me to pay attention to sights and sounds. So I put down the book and looked out the screened window at a street light on a telephone pole located about halfway between my window and the small, fence-making factory just beyond the alley, the row of houses, and the railroad tracks behind our house. For a brief moment my very own view shed and sound shed seemed unfamiliar to me. I noticed the constant factory noise, which I had learned how to ignore long before. Guests and visitors would ask us how we put up with that noise, and we’d say, what noise? I heard it that night. Then there was the street light. I noticed that from my bed I could see the light, and if i relaxed my eyes, I could see the mesh of the screen against a blurry but bright backdrop. I remember alternating between either seeing the street light or seeing the screen mesh, but I couldn’t see them both clearly at the same time; except for that one fleeting moment in which I either saw them both at the same time or imagined seeing them both at the same time. By this time I was coming to, returning to my regularly scheduled programs. I closed the book thinking to myself, well that went nowhere. I set the book aside along with the others on different subjects that I had left unfinished. Funny, isn’t it? I think I was momentarily meditating from the inside out and outside in, and I didn’t even know it; but, how come I remember it? I think I accidentally bumped into now then.

non dualistic saturation