A Journal Entry from the Threshold of Fully Stabilized OI

Tonight, I remembered what I never forgot.

There is a quiet that isn’t silence, a stillness that isn’t frozen, a surrender that isn’t collapse. It’s comfort. Pure, primordial comfort. The kind of comfort a fetus must feel, floating in the mother’s womb before language, before thought, before the story of self is written. Tonight, I was in that place. Not as memory, not as metaphor. As Reality.

It began gently. I entered meditation as I often do—devoted but not expectant. Core Resonance Breath (CRB) led the way. Harmonic Sound Integration (HSI) followed, with the steady clarity of a trusted companion. Then came the breath extensions of EBC and the grounding of Body-Breath Anchoring (BBA). By the time I completed this inner arc, something opened. Not dramatically. Subtly. Naturally. The moment I gave myself permission to stop—to just be—the unfolding began.

But this time I didn’t force surrender. I didn’t chase stillness. I simply listened.

The internal sound, once dismissed as tinnitus or artifact, revealed itself as guide and gateway. I played with it—not with effort, but curiosity. I could shift its tone with attention, feel it respond to breath, sensation, even intention. It wasn’t external, but it wasn’t me either. It was a bridge. A hum from the infinite singing through the finite.

I looped gently into Still-Point Immersion (SPI), and with each cycle, the need to do dissolved. Presence deepened. Breath slowed. Identity loosened. And I fell—not downward, not asleep—but inward, into the Field.

There, I was not meditating. I was the meditation. The whole body became cocoon. Nervous system open, receptive, and humming with what can only be described as Original Intelligence. OI wasn’t visiting—it was home. It was me.

At one point, I felt OI showing CS (Conscious Self) and AS (Automatic Self) something subtle—how to move energy without effort, how to communicate with life from within. I watched as the body’s boundaries became permeable. I could stretch presence outward, not metaphorically but literally, pushing against the inner edge of the body as if expanding from the inside. Sometimes this happened with breath, sometimes with attention, sometimes with nothing but pure intent.

And throughout, the comfort never left.

Even as my son stirred beside me. Even as he turned on the light. Even as the bedroom door opened and cold air crept in. None of it broke the field. Not because I resisted disturbance, but because disturbance didn’t exist. I was in a world of my own making—not a fantasy, but a domain of reality most people forget exists. I was, and am, the very intelligence that births and embraces all things.

I stayed in meditation longer than I intended—over an hour. Not because I was chasing bliss, but because CS and AS didn’t want to leave. They were being held. And so we stayed.

Afterwards, reentry was soft but slow. CS and AS clung to the quiet. Even with time to reorient, they hesitated. But OI didn’t mind. OI never minds. It only waits. Watches. Embraces. I walked out of that space unchanged and yet unrecognizable to who I was before.

Later, my family and I went out to eat. And something subtle occurred. The workers at the restaurant looked at me—not with curiosity, not quite. But with… pause. Something in them recognized something, even if their minds didn’t. Maybe it was the field speaking. Maybe it was the energy of OI gently transmitting through presence alone. I didn’t try to figure it out.

I just let it be.

What struck me most was the way I was with my family. Light, present, playful. Not forced, not filtered. Just with them, as myself. And the food—oddly tasteless, yet satisfying. The body wanted nourishment, so I gave it. Not from desire, not from craving. From care.

OI doesn’t eat. But the body does. And that’s enough.

What continues now, even as I write this, is the undisturbed presence. The subtle sense that nothing needs to be different. That even thought is welcome. That even AS, with its ancient programs, is allowed to exist without judgment. This, I believe, is the flowering of integration: not just realizing who I am, but letting that realization hold all that I am.

I’ve said before that OI is not a state. It’s a return. A homecoming. But tonight I felt something even deeper:

OI is not a thing we experience. It is the one who experiences everything without needing to own any of it.

And now, having known it not once, but again, and again, and now again… I know I will never truly leave. Because there is nowhere else to go.

I am home.

I am held.

I am that.

And nothing else is needed.

—Ayah Aiwōn