Start at the back of your throat. Slowly push it forward. Make every shape with your mouth. All vowels are one. As we all are one.
You do not simply hear the om. You taste it and feel it. You surround it, as it surrounds the universe. Inside you.
It is a cloud, an aura. It colors your perceptions. You can't isolate it. You try to pinpoint and it slips away, fragments into a hundred reasons and emotions.
You walk the casino and you walk. You see many lights, many jewels, many strange plants on the carpet. You are now open to the thoughts of your fellow humans. You can sense excitement mixed with boredom, desperation mixed with hope, amusement mixed with insanity.
You sense no love. No love.
But that's okay.
If you know it. If you're prepared and not deluded. You can make it out whole.
I walked the rows and I stopped and picked one. This one. Why not, right? A big handle, silver with a black ball on top. That's good, I know what to do with that. I need the touch. I'm tactile. But you know that.
I gambled and I scored. 100-to-1 shot. I felt special. Then I wasted the extra and left with, physically, what I brought. Mentally, I'm changed for the better. I won't get addicted. The most important part is when to leave. That's the secret to winning.
You were not with me in the casino. You taught me something in your absence. By it.
The casino is one long note, with all its harmonics. It's tantra, baby. But you and I are Western. We modulate pitch and increase rhythm, heading toward that earthy pinnacle. Not deep, but steep. Not spiritual, but high.
I knew this could be done with music as well as bodies. But you taught me it was possible with ideas as well. We clash and stir, become lost and confused. We try to match each other but we can't know for sure. Hard anger might be hurt or it might cause it.
Then you speak my thought and all the tangles rush out of me in a wave as we share. Different state of mind now and we float apart. It's okay. I trust you.
No love. No love. I know. No love.
But still. So good.