Drilling for peace.

The situation came about as a result of hunger, not starvation exactly, but definitely hunger. Perhaps that’s why he’d acted so irrationally? If he’d have asked someone maybe they would have given him some money. But he hadn’t and that was how he’d ended up locked up, for stealing a loaf of bread, a half a pound of cheddar and a jar of Marmite.

         In the police cell contemplating his options, he noticed a small paperback. He could see it now; a plain blue cover with yellow writing on the front. Curious at first, he’d read, becoming ever more fascinated. The author, one Lopsag Rungpa, described, amongst other things, a technique for opening the third eye; an operation that involved piercing the suture between the nasal and frontal bones of the forehead with a thin piece of sharpened bone, then pushing it forward and upward into the pineal gland. The fact he could still remember this 20 years later was a blessing. Having been depressed for some time, he felt he had nothing to lose by giving it a try.

         He used ice cubes to numb the front of the head. Then using a sanitised Stanley knife, he cut a small hole in the flesh between his eyebrows. He looked in the mirror pleased with his work.

         The next step was trickier. He had to drill a small hole in the centre of the forehead. With some information gleaned from several anatomy books, he knew the frontal bone was 3-4 mm thick. He would use a battery-operated power drill with a titanium bit 3mm diameter. He placed the drill on the table in front of him and attached a baby’s plastic bib to his neck to catch the falling debris and blood.

         As ready as he’d ever be, he reached for the drill. The mirrors he’d previously positioned, gave him perspective. He had to keep a straight aim. Any deviation could be devastating.     The Pineal gland, named after a pinecone because of its shape, was situated three inches behind the point where he aimed the drill. He took a deep breath, switched it on and moved it carefully forward.

         When the whirling drill touched the bone it caused an intense vibration to shudder through his body. The smell of burning bone made him gag slightly. He had to be careful.

         The phone rang. Perhaps it was Raff, his assistant?  He’d told Raff he would wait,  but impatience got the better of him and he’d gone ahead. Anyway, it was his idea, he could do what he liked. Raff could do it later if he wanted.

         He withdrew the drill and placed it on the table. He looked at the phone, still buzzing. He took several deep breaths. The phone stopped. He turned to the mirror, touched the hole with his index finger. It was warm, inviting him inward. He looked at the phone, a missed call from Raff. Should he call him? No. Let’s get on with it. We must be nearly through by now.

         He picked up the drill and placed the whirling head into the small hole. No vibrations this time. A spout of blood poured from his forehead. Was that it? He switched it off. Blood trickled down his face and dripped into the tray. He put a finger over the hole and went to the bathroom. He held a towel under the cold tap and pressed it against his head. He was pleased with his work.

         In the original text, in the paperback he’d read all those years ago, to pierce the membrane and pineal gland, they’d used a long piece of sharpened bone. He had an ivory chopstick sharpened to a fine point. That was the main thing, the implement had to be sharp and clean. The angle needed to be right though. He had to get that right, or he may miss the point. He sat in his one and only armchair. He placed the mirror in front of him. He’d worked out the precise angle and drawn a line on the side of his head. He leaned back and took several deep breaths. On the third, a gurgling noise resounded in his head and blood squirted from the hole. He’d gone this far. He’d done the worst bit. The next part was easy, all soft tissue.

         He closed his eyes, saw himself all those years ago. 18 he’d been, in the police cell reading the book. He could no longer deny it. He could not remember the exact point of the operation, or what had actually happened to the person undergoing the procedure. Raff was the researcher. If he’d found anything out he would have left a message by now, wouldn’t he? He looked at his phone again, looked at the long pointed implement in his hand.

What did he have to lose? He looked in the mirror. He held the point against the hole. It was, make, or break time. In he went, 5, 10, 15 mm. He swallowed hard, heart racing. Another 5 mm, then 10 more, he must be close. The point of contact was three inches behind the point between the eyebrows. Three, yes, it was three. He was certain. Everything was in millimeters now, but he’d worked it out. 75 mm. He was over halfway. He looked in the mirror, this thing sticking out of the front of his head. He was on course. Bang on the button. 30 mm to go, all he had to do was keep going.

         He lay back and closed his eyes. No need to see anything now. He pushed. He felt the stick moving in, deeper through the soft tissue. Blood trickled down his face, but he felt calm. More than he had for ages. It felt weird doing something like this and feeling calm. Amazing. He took a deep breath. This was it. He pushed again. One last time.

         The sound was the first thing, loud, like a church bell chiming. Then, white blinding light, a rushing waterfall of light. Plunged into an inner experience of such intensity, he had no mind or sense of time, nothing he could relate to now. He needed an anchor, something he could relate to. Almost frantic, his heart pounded. Buzzing in the center of his head. White light became softer, shimmering around the edges. He heard a voice, deep and resonant, from another time, chanting something. He tried to listen. What was it saying? The rushing sound came back. A bell clanged deep in his cranium. His own voice this time, coming from inside his head. ‘What?’ it said, ‘do you want?’

         The rushing noise subsided. The resonant voice continued, getting louder. His body was falling, dropping into nothing. Part of him knew he was still at home in the armchair. He was falling into light and sound. It swallowed him. The last thing he heard, was the chiming bell and the deep resonant voice droning, eventually fading into nothing.