From DANCE OF THE ELECTRIC HUMMINGBIRD: An Ordinary Woman’s Accidental Journey to Enlightenment, the Supernatural, and Rock Star Sammy Hagar** by Patricia Walker
Excerpt From Chapter 1 — Supernatural Euphoria
The sensation of being an audience member falls away in slow motion, as my body suddenly becomes paralyzed, lighter than air, and I feel myself lift right up out of it.
I’m falling. Up.
When I look down, I can see myself about five feet below, as if the “me” in the audience is someone else. But how can I be “me” up here and “me” down there at the same time?
Jesus—am I losing my mind?
All sound disintegrates except for a muffled voice crying out in the distance, “Oh . . . my . . . God!” It’s coming from somewhere on the ground, in the crowd. It’s my voice—within me and without me at the same time, a rather alarming feeling. A pervading sense of universal peace then saturates my being. I’m floating on the breath of heaven. And I’m warm, protected, important, and loved beyond measure. What is happening? Maybe the heat’s getting to me.
I pass through the roof of the building as if it’s not even there and then I see that the ordinary scene of the concert below that I’m part of, is now bathed in an all-encompassing light. I can see minute details I didn’t notice before, as if I’m looking through a magnifying glass: a small, jagged stone on the floor between my right foot and the woman next to me, a crack in the side wall that someone had attempted to cover with yellow paint. I’m still going up. And the higher I go, the more focused everything becomes. I swear I can hear Sammy’s thoughts while he’s onstage singing, as if they’re my own, but that’s not possible, is it? A thread of a thought pokes in from reality, Oh, I get it, I must’ve had waaay too much to drink! Then it fades.
An overwhelmingly pleasant sensation starts to grow within me, and the higher I go, the more pronounced it becomes, as if white light is pouring into my soul. Did I just collapse during the show and now I’m dead? But I don’t feel dead—whatever that means. And I’m not afraid anymore either. I feel absolutely safe. Safe enough to let go of the tiny shards of hesitation and skepticism that still cling to my sides, the ones that tell me none of this is real—and surrender to whatever it is that’s happening to me. I might as well. I can’t fight it anyway.
The instant I have this thought, I see it all fall away like a launching rocket dropping its booster engines, and I become completely lost in the sensation.
My years of sadness are over, and I didn’t even know I was that unhappy.
Where did that thought come from?
Everything is now moving in slow motion, like I’m floating in water. I feel my senses diminish, as if they are needed only in the physical world and are unnecessary here, wherever it is I am right now. The only sense that matters is the Supreme Sense—that which my soul is feeling: pure, unutterable joy. Unbridled, ubiquitous ecstasy. It’s so enormous, it can’t be humanly possible to feel this way. I’ve given birth to three healthy children and I thought nothing could top that, but this does. By far.
My mind keeps trying to rationalize all this and the only thing it can come up with is, I wonder if somebody slipped something into my drink when I wasn’t looking. That must be it. Oh . . . God . . . It’s taking more effort than I’m capable of to hold on to my thoughts any longer; something more important seems to be taking over. I—
I AM— It’s like an absolute, blazing sunrise, a volcanic burst of euphoria into—
I’m the question and the answer, the dream and the realization of the dream.
I am paradise. I am a celebration. I am perfect. Everything is perfect; it’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.
My spirit is now spiraling within something all-powerful, and I recognize an integral piece of my soul, something I didn’t know was missing. I reach out in a daze, in a dream, like the starry blackness of space, and pluck it from midair. Then I pull it into me; and as I do, a sparkling mist of white light flows through me and plugs me into some gigantic force. Is it God? It must be God. What else would it be? It’s so huge that I should be scared shitless but I’m not. It feels . . . what are the words? Beyond wonderful. This force then shows me that it isn’t a race or religion, but an energy consisting of all races and religions, even the lack of these. Neither is it a gender, but some kind of dual persona, each half as vital as the other and constantly moving, evolving, and sharing dominance. And it is also me. I am God/God is me in a great circle of radiance that’s alive, breathing, and still rippling like that lake reacting to the stone. I don’t think this; I can’t think. I don’t see it either, at least not with my eyes, I know it. Then I “see” with my soul, in great detail, how everything is connected—every human being, every grain of sand, every snowflake, plant and animal—every thought, every deed—all that has ever been and all that will ever be. I can see it all—even beings and non-beings in other dimensions that I can’t identify—and within this connection, there is only love. No beginning, no end, no separation—nothing—but love. I’m so overcome that if I were in my body right now, I think I’d be crying, laughing, peeing my pants from sheer astonishment. But I’m not in my body. Of that much I am certain.
I inhale deep and feel all of this flow into my lungs like the pinch of microscopic grains. What is this sensation? I’m whole for the first time in my life.
Excerpt From Chapter 27 — One Foot on the Path, Body and Mind to Follow
I want to immerse myself fully in this moment, experience all of my life, attach myself to all my emotions, feelings, and experiences without reservation. I want to let them show to the world without apologies—oh yes! It’s all coming back! I want to share this love and joy openly and freely, not keep them quietly to myself and demonstrate strict discipline. I don’t want to speak softly or live beneath diffused lighting and muted colors. I’m tired of beige. I want to scream at the top of my lungs, laugh out loud, experience vibrant red, yellow, orange, purple. I want to dance and make noise, let it all out of me no matter how long it takes. I don’t want to feel holy and reserved. I want to grab hold of the tail of the tiger, feel his tight muscles moving beneath his skin, white fangs flashing as he thrashes and twists trying to devour me. I want to hold onto him with every ounce of my being for as long as I can before I release him to the universe, or he consumes me, then watch the effect float away like the text of a Star Wars film.
**Copyright 2011, Patricia Walker, all rights reserved. No unauthorized duplication without author’s permission.**