So this is God.


Simply put, I got pulled through the wormhole of the Absolute, and in that rush I suddenly understood the workings of the universe completely. I left my body, I left the room, I left the planet, I stepped through time and I entered the void. I was inside the void, but I also
was the void and I was looking at the void, all at the same time. The void was a place of limitless peace and wisdom. The void was conscious and it was intelligent. The void was God, which means that I was inside God. But not in a gross, physical way – not like I was Liz Gilbert stuck inside a chunk of God’s thigh muscle. I just was part of God. In addition to being God. I was both a tiny piece of the universe and exactly the same size as the universe. (“All know that the drop merges into the ocean, but few know that the ocean merges into the drop,” wrote the sage Kabir – and I can personally attest now that this is true.)

It wasn’t hallucinogenic, what I was feeling. It was the most basic of events. It was heaven, yes. It was the deepest love I’ve ever experienced, but it wasn’t euphoric. It wasn’t exciting. There wasn’t enough ego or passion left in me to create euphoria and excitement,. It was obvious…

“So this is God,” I though. “Congratulations to meet you.”

The place in which I was standing can’t be described like an earthly location. It was neither dark nor light, neither big nor small. Nor was it a place, nor was I technically standing there, nor was I exactly “I” anymore. I still had my thoughts, but they were so modest, quiet and observatory. Not only did I feel unhesitating compassionate and unity with everything and everybody, it was vaguely and amusingly strange for me to wonder how anybody could ever feel anything but that…

I wondered, “Why have I been chasing happiness my whole life when bliss was here the entire time?”

I don’t know how long I hovered in this magnificent ether of union before I has a sudden urgent thought: “I want to hold on to this experience forever!” And that’s when I started to tumble out of it.

I watched my ego return the way you watch a Polaroid photo develop, instant by instant getting clearer,… there is a picture of regular old me. I felt a tremor of panic, mildly heartbroken to have lost this divinity experience. But exactly parallel to that panic I could also sense a witness, a wiser and older me, who just shook her head and smiled.

God’s last compassionate, unspoken message: You may return here once you have fully come to understand that you are always here.


From Eat, Pray Love of Elizabeth Gilbert