Now I come to that which is the most difficult to explain — the meeting with Eternity. While I was still on my way, I noticed how Time and Space had loosened my handcuffs. Yearnings and painful longings were diminished, whether it be toward places or people whom I had become attached. Not that my feelings had grown cold, but I could no longer feel separation with the old force. There is a condition in which it ceases to exist.
Every object which we know has been christened by Time and Space. Every name means limitation, every word is an expression for something in distinction to something else. In the everlasting Now there is neither Space nor Time, neither limitation nor distinction. Even the language of the gods would be inadequate to describe it, and the ‘language of Heaven’ cannot be spoken or written; it is lived.
Tongue and pen can tell lies, the language of Heaven is the life of true reality in man and imparts itself directly from soul to soul, with those who are wholly and really living in truth. Words cannot describe the wordless, and I am no artist in handling words, even within the realm of words. But now I will try to express myself on the subject as plainly and simply as I can. I select a summer day’s meeting between Time and Eternity and describe it in as far as it can be described.
I had been sitting in the garden working and had just finished. That afternoon I was to go to Copenhagen, but it was still an hour and a half before the departure of the train. The weather was beautiful, the air clear and pure. I lighted a cigar and sat down in one of the easy-chairs in front of the house. It was still and peaceful — around me and within me. Too good, in fact, to allow one to think much about anything. I just sat there.
Then it began to come, that infinite tenderness, which is purer and deeper than that of lovers, or of a father toward his child. It was in me, but it also came to me, as the air came to my lungs. As usual, the breathing became sober and reverent, became, as it were, incorporeal; I inhaled the tenderness. Needless to say the cigar went out. I did not cast it away like a sin, I simply had no use for it.
This deep tenderness which I felt, first within myself and then even stronger around and above me, extended further and further — it became all-present. I saw it, and it developed into knowing, into knowing all, at the same time it became power, omnipotence, and drew me into the eternal Now.
That was my first actual meeting with Reality; because such is the real life: a Now which is and a Now which happens. There is no beginning and no end. I cannot say any more about this Now. I sat in my garden, but there was no place in the world where I was not. During the whole time my consciousness was clear and sober. I sat in the garden and acknowledged it with a smile. There was something to smile over, for time and space, characteristics of the Now which happens were so to speak ‘outside’.
But what is the Now which happens? It is continuously active creation with all its birth throes. I saw time and space as instruments or functions of this creation. They come into existence with it and in the course of it, and with it they come to an end. The Newly Created stands in the Now and discards these tools. The freedom, the real Being begins.
~ Johannes Anker-Larsen (1874-1957), from: With the Door Open