Waiting. For the next time.

Can’t do it often. But still, I’m able to leave my body. For an experience almost beyond description. And believe me. I am drug-free. Always have been. It’s mind over matter. It’s really my mind. Or my spirit. That leaves my body. For a few moments. I am no longer physical. Best described. As a soothing euphoria.  Of the mind. Or the spirit of the moment. It happened Saturday. At an Irish Festival. On Harriet Island. In the Mississippi River. In St. Paul.  I’m in the front row. At a concert. By an Irish band. And I go into a trance. Not only listening to the rousing music. But blending in. As if I’m an integral part of the music. All else is shut out. The crowd. The extraneous noises. I am no longer a physical being. I feel the music deeply. But I can’t respond physically. Because I’m out of body. I can’t stomp. Or dance. No legs or feet. Can’t applaud. Have no arms or hands. But that’s all right. I have absolutely no desire to be in body. Instead, I am pure spirit. An integral part of the music. Totally blended with the music. I am the music. And that’s the way I want to stay.  But dear true love, Cristina. Seated next to me. Thinks I’m falling asleep. Nudges me. Out of my trance. I’m annoyed. I’m back in my body again. It’s happened to me before. When I’m listening to music. Maybe an adagio. And I’m absorbed by the music.  Carried away. Out-of-body. Again. No drugs. Only the music. I could be in bed. Or at a blaring Irish concert. I can hardly wait. For the next time. --Jim Broede