This article is reprinted from a PDF file on SearchWithin.org.
IT OCCURRED IN Seattle, Washington. I was thirty years of age at the time and I had been fed-up several times with what I was doing. I had been into yoga and other things, and several times between the ages of twenty-eight and thirty I had given it up and wished I could go out, get drunk, and forget about it. In fact, I had gone to Seattle to get married and I was going to chuck the whole thing. I said, ‘If I get married, I’ll throw it out — forget about it.’
But while I was there I picked up a job, and again I gravitated down toward the library. I’m back down there reading books on yoga, and doing my yoga exercises — trying to marry the two, the mundane world, and this mental drive that I had. I think that this was the catalytic factor that caused the experience — trying to bring these two together. I could be wrong.
I had a room in an apartment hotel of sorts, and I would come home every day, sit up on the bed with my feet tucked up under me, meditate and think. So this particular day I sat there — and I started to get a pain in the top of my head, right in the center of the top. The pain got worse — in fact it got so bad that I started weeping.
Tears started to come out of my eyes. I couldn’t stand it, and I thought, ‘Oh boy, three thousand miles from home and I’ve got to blow my stack. That’ s what is happening.’ I thought that I would have a stroke or possibly go crazy. Because I didn’t think that it would just stop on its own.
But I was aware at the peak of this pain of going out the hotel window. I was aware of actually seeing people who were on the street at the time, except that I was above them. This was in daylight, incidentally, it wasn’t night. My window looked out toward the Cascade Range of snowcapped mountains. And I watched this just as if I were in an airplane, passing underneath me.
And then there was sort of a time flipover, in which I was no longer over the Cascade Range — now I could see all of humanity. I knew that all I had to do was look wherever I wanted, and I could see any man who ever lived or would live. There was no such thing as time. These people were all living now — all I had to do was to check them out, if I wished.
So I looked and I saw myself. I could see myself struggling down there — Richard Rose — I could see his whole life pattern. I’m still in a sort of astral projection form, I’m still much attached to the body, to these people, and I feel a tremendous amount of grief. A tremendous amount of sadness for this seemingly senseless struggle.
Then I realized that I was both humanity and my individual self, and that I was everything. And in an instant I realized that humanity didn’t exist and that I didn’t exist. But that I did exist in nothingness and everythingness, infinitely. And how long this lasted I had no way of checking, because I was alone and when I came back it was rather traumatic. And I stayed that way for several days, because it is as difficult to come back as it is to go into it.
First account © 1985 Richard Rose from The Direct-Mind Experience pages 83‒84. Second account © 1984 Richard Rose from his April 28, 1984, lecture ‘Peace of Mind in Spite of Success’ in Akron, Ohio. Third account © 1973 from The Albigen Papers, pages 224‒227.
This article is reprinted from a file on SearchWithin.org called ‘realization_richard_rose.pdf.’
Richard Rose (1917 – 2005) was a spiritual teacher and author of eight books.
By Richard Rose
Bart Marshall writes:
“Richard Rose is quite possibly the most profound and original spiritual teacher America has yet produced. In many ways he is our Ramana Maharshi, and yet he remains unknown to all the but the lucky few who have happened upon his books — or the fewer still who have had the great good fortune to cross his path. Of his many writings, Psychology of the Observer is the most indispensable to the serious seeker. In it Rose reveals the essence of the process that led to his enlightenment, and directly points the way for us to awaken also.”
This page was published on June 24, 2017 and last revised on July 2, 2017.