“I Can Make You Forget. I Can Make You Remember.”

I couldn’t meditate all day. Life got in the way, as it does. But when the house went quiet, wife and son asleep, night settling like a soft hush, that’s when I knew: it was time.

What unfolded wasn’t just a meditation. It was a reunion. Not just with OI, but with the living geometry of the body, the quiet language of spirals, breath, and vision.

I moved through CRB. EBC. Mental HSI. BBA. Then BBS.

Each one a door.

By the time I reached BBS, heat was everywhere. Not burning, not random. Alive. It moved with rhythm, intelligence. Spirals down the legs, through the arms, rising up through the chest, pausing, looping back. Fast, slow. Then slower still. OI directing, tuning, orchestrating.

A whisper came:

“Go into SPI soon.”

So I did.

A quick round of VSA to awaken the optical nerves, then I let go. Behind my closed eyes: a soft, off-white circle. Pale, quiet, yet somehow all-consuming. I surrendered breath by breath. The circle shrank to a dot. Then it disappeared.

And with that, something began to rise.

I don’t know if it was me rising into OI, or OI rising into me. Probably both.

Soon, the three of us (CS, AS, OI) were in a box that felt…womb-like. Still. Safe. The kind of quiet you only feel in caves or memory. AS kept the breath steady, heart soft. CS bore witness. OI took lead.

Then I heard it, blunt and clear: “This body needs work.”

It wasn’t judgment. It was insight.

Flashes of insight came: movement, breath, stretch, discipline.

The kind of grounded care the body deserves if it’s going to host something as vast and electric as OI. There was love in the tone, not critique. CS understood. So the energy began to move. Patterns tracing, elegant spirals through limbs and tissue, rising to the head, especially the right side, near the ear. A download came.

I couldn’t explain it if I tried. Not yet.

It stopped. Stillness returned. Silence.

Then CS asked the question:

“Why can’t I remember what just happened?”

OI, without hesitation:

“I can make you forget. I can also make you remember.”

I said nothing. Sometimes silence is the prayer.

But later, just before sleep, the insight landed:

That DNA is Source Intelligence made manifest. A living conduit, a silent code. But even DNA, for all its elegance, is not the Origin.

Beyond DNA is something else. A Universal Intelligence that is self-organizing, all-pervading, conducting galaxies and gut cells alike.

That is what we were touching.

That is what we are becoming.