Tool of the Mind — Part 3

IMPORTANT NOTE: Parts 1 and 2 of this true story can be found at I recommend you go there first before you read this entry — or not. It’s up to you, and your whims, I guess. This is the story of a young Minnesota college student — me, at one time — who experimented with the ancient mystical tool known as a mantra.

Tool of the Mind — Part III

By Ken Korczak
Driving north, ever north, I was now deep in Minnesota lake country. On the lesser-known blacktop roads, you’ll find twisty-turny-curvy lanes bordered on either side by fragrant pine trees, which occasionally break to reveal a charming, sparkling little lake — or sometimes, a gigantic magnificent lake that looks more like an inland sea. Mille Lacs Lake is a superlative example. It’s water that you “can’t see across,” so to speak, making it seem an ocean rather than merely a lake.

I was now more than an hour since I had encountered the grieving man on the grave. But the mantra had burnished and scoured him from my mind, and replaced it with a strange and growing obsession with sunlight. Suddenly, the road burst upon a stunning vista of the wide Lake Mille Lacs, and I nearly piled The Killing Machine into a tree! I mean, I wasn’t prepared for the abrupt and agonizingly lovely, majestic panorama of the endless expanse of blue water under an arching vault of spring-blue sky — and all across the water was dancing golden sunlight, like billions of chummy little elves frolicking and capering across the waves in a dazzling nature dance! I was still “with-it” enough to understand that I needed to take a break.

I know you’re not supposed to drive DUI, but there’s probably no law against DUM — “Driving Under influence of a Mantra.” But “DUM” is a decidedly poor acronym for the mantra-induced state of consciousness because it’s really just the opposite of that. It’s not like being in a trance, or mentally altered in the boozy sense, or like the high of a narcotic, such as cannabis. Those latter two modes just make you dumber. The mantra makes you sharper, scintillating aware, edgy alive. It’s true that under the deep influence of the mantra, you are not yourself: You are more than yourself. And discovering that there even is more is the kind of experience that no one should pass up, if one has the notion. But, anyway, I digress.

I guided The Killing Machine — or it guided me — to a sort of primitive rest area near the shore of Lake Mille Lacs. There was no one else around. Somewhat reluctantly I silenced the engine of The Killing Machine, sending it into slumber, I suppose — or who knows? I got out and stretched my legs. I walked up to touch the sacred water of Mille Lacs. I say “sacred” because the Native Americans considered Mille Lacs to be a place of intense spiritual energy. In the language of the Dakota Sioux Indians, the lake is called Mde Wakan, which means “spiritual or mystic lake.”

This being spring in Minnesota, the vast sheets of ice were not long melted from the surface, and the water was pleasantly icy cold. I cupped some water in my hands and put my face in it, but even this could not clear the fantastical effects the streaming sun was playing on my awareness.

I went back to The Killing Machine and sat on the hood, my feet on its fabulous chrome front bumper. I laid back and felt the solid metal of the hood firm beneath me. The warmth of the surface felt luxurious on my back, which was aching from sitting and driving for the past hours. The warmth sent a lush feeling of smooth relaxation throughout my body. I surrendered to the radiation of the sun. The sun’s white-gold rays seemed to stream through my body, infiltrate my brain, filling me with brilliance that was not bright and blinding, but crystal and clarifying. And now I began to experience the sun in a very novel way. The sunlight was less flowing like radiation and becoming more particulate, like a trillion teardrops, each a separate entity, yet each containing the whole of the Universe itself in microcosms, each infinite and complete, reflecting all the others perfectly.

It was almost too much, and I felt just a stirring of fear because I felt I was getting in over my head — but my tether-line to reality was my whimsical mantra. “Cows eat grass! Cows eat grass! Cows eat grass!” If I had become detached from mundane reality and cast adrift in a vast ocean of droplet sunlight, at least I was being carried out into that molten sea of pure energy came with a solid lifeline — which was the mantra itself. The mantra was like a beacon, or a signaling lighthouse, on the shores of “normal” reality, constantly beeping, centered in my physical brain, indicating the way back, telling me where my chunk of crude human flesh was languishing in solid existence. All I needed to do was follow the mantra like the proverbial trail of bread crumbs scattered on a forest floor if I wanted to return to the “land” of solid existence. But to swim in an ocean of molten, golden light is not a bad experience either.

The problem is, even when was does have a safety tether back to the dense physical reality that is our “normal” existence, one must have the will to use it. And when one is having every cell in one’s body massaged by the very fingers of the primal energies of light, the rapture, the ecstasy, the uncanny freedom of basking in the utter complete detachment of manumission, the ego-based will easily falters — but luckily, the natural order of things was my salvation, if you can call it “salvation” at all — perhaps “reverse-salvation” is a better description.

You see, what coaxed me back to earthly reality was a most mundane event — I had reclined in rapture on The Killing Machine until the sun set beneath the western horizon, releasing me from the golden prison of light. Flat on my back, my lids began to blink. Directly overhead, my eyes opened upon the first glinting stars of purple twilight. Extremely disoriented, it slowly dawned upon me that I had laid out there by the shores of Mille Lacs — of Mde Wakan — for more than six hours!

NEXT: My mantra journey is far from over. Now, I must travel the rest of the way under a velvet black sky paved with glittering stars! Little did I know that The Killing Machine had a surprise is store for me! Stay tuned!

6 thoughts on “Tool of the Mind — Part 3

  1. Very interesting experience you had there. You kept me glued to the screen man and wanting more. Keep going bro!

  2. Ruth Ann and Joe:

    You are both extremely kind human beings! Thanks for your gracious notes, the kind of which always make my day. Stay tuned — the final installments of the Mantra Journey should be posted later today.

    Thanks again, friends.


  3. its really fantastic!!!!!!!!

    Upon reading the whole strory of urs i felt that it will b great, if u could explain the scientifical rather psychological view of ur story, that is how exactly the mantra turned ur brain in such a great thing…,

    and one more thing is , have u met any psychologist to know the science behind this irony..if so please publish the same

    thank u!

  4. Ken

    I found your story at unexplainedmysteries and then followed the rest here. I couldnt wait to read more, so intriguing, like joeinmex said; it had him glued to the screen wanting more, same here I felt my very being reaching out for more of that mystical being. I feel connected to you in someway. Like my soul yearning, its a feeling I love all the more.

    Can’t wait to read more

  5. Probably like most readers I was captivated by your vivid imagery of your experienced. You probably heard often, that you have a great gift of describing your emotions.

    One thing, is this a true experienced?

    Thanks you, keep up your good work. I for one appreciate it.


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