I was standing in the Negev. I was glad I had come alone. A splendid aloneness. No life of any kind except my own and that unheeded. I was separated from myself. It was as if I didn't exist The sun consuming sands were I, the blue embracing sky was I. The past, the present, the before, the after, all were one. It was the beginning. In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.
There was only one instant like that, a minute of time, a smallest decibel. There is no word for that smallest instant that was the beginning. It has no quantity from the beginning it continues to its then and now, a now which no sooner thought of than it becomes a "then" and like a river wind from nothingness into a current and becomes the present and the past. Its before is now - its after.
When did a river have its beginning? In the first cloud that burst upon the world? when did the cloud get its first dew? From the sea that got its first drop?????
The answer to the question when is eternity and the answer to when is eternity is the beginning and in the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Suddenly it was there.
I was as near too freedom as I could be for real freedom starts, exists even only before the beginning before the choice is known. Once a choice has been made there is no freedom for the choice once made - commits.
Just to feel and to be without the impingement of others' thoughts and other beings and less than alone in the desert.

There was movement in the sand that was no movement. It was my eye caught by a whiter whiteness. An animal's skull lay half sunk in the sand. And my life when did it begin? The moment I was freed from the trap of my mother's womb? the instant my father's sperm met my mother's egg? The moment she recognized that first stain as the life process repeating itself again and again from her mother to her back to the beginning. In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth and on the sixth day He created man.

There was movement in the sand that was no movement. It was my eye caught bit a whiter whiteness.
A bone from who knows when had placed its curving outline in stubborn resistance on the sand. Once alive, it had given away to the gentle persuasion of time and as each grain of sand gently rubbed its surface it gave up an infinitesimal part of itself to a new beginning which was an end and a continuation. Nothing would soon remain of it except its genetics transmitted onwards and transmitted again and again.