I find myself standing in the midst of an eternity, a vast and inexhaustible present. The whole world rests within itself -- the trees at the field's edge, the hum of crickets in the grass, cirrocumulus clouds rippling like waves across the sky, from horizon to horizon. In the distance I notice the curving dirt road and my rusty car parked at its edge -- these, too, seem to have their place in this open moment of vision, this eternal present. And smells -- the air is rich with faint whiffs from the forest, the heather, the soil underfoot -- so many messages mingling between different elements in the encircling land.
...
Things are different in this world without "the past" and "the future," my body quivering in this space like an animal. I know well that, in some time out of this time, I must return to my house and my books. But here, too, is home. For my body is at home, in this open present, with its mind. And this is no mere illusion, no hallucination, this eternity -- there is something too persistent, too stable, too unshakable about this experience for it to be merely a mirage...