This is from a journal entry shortly after my cardiac arrests. Again I mention since my head works in quantum physics, it is as yesterday. The scribing is as true today because time is our measure, the measure our planet works with. I had been slothful I wrote because I read immersed in family sagas for relief from the physical maintenance work. Also I had word of a heart friend who was hospitalized and being moved to a facility with more state of the art machines and died enroute.
I was weeping on the phone to my younger and he said ma, she had an offer she couldn’t refuse. That doesn’t make me feel any better, John I wept. But he was right.
We think anyone leaving us no matter when, is too soon. Yet the very young have fulfilled destinies we probably cannot understand nor give credence to. And the very old we see clinging to life like Hera to a love lost.
Sunday school for adults may look upon this entry with interest tomorrow. Give it some thought.
I scribed the following. . . Oftentimes people say that a soul is dispensed before its time. But this is not the case. For we work on many levels and because we do, when the purpose of our existence has been served, we then are free to move on. Notice how that term is used. Free to move on. Not tied anymore. Not tied to anyone or anything.
Physical life gives the illusion of permanence and material things, items, give the appearance of being in a finished or unfinished state.
This is to give continuity to physical life. This is the linear measurement which is necessary to prevent a chaotic mind. For it is far easier to deal with permanence in a positive material mode than it is to deal with nuances or illusions or concepts.
Yet ideas , concepts are just as real, just as permanent, if not more so than the so called material or permanent things which indeed decay with rust and rot. But ideas are clear items, they are undying. They may disappear for a time, but reappear when the time may be more precise.
Concepts are pie in the sky many think. Yet concepts are to be grasped, grasped to be used to build a life on. For that is all we have in mind when we come to earth. We have an idea, a concept and proceed to chisel it to make it permanent or concrete. A something to be touched. A something that can be handled. Yet the concept with its energy and power is the permanent thing.
It is the power behind the horse.
excerpt from His Purpose. . .
My God, he said
when first he saw himself in light of day.
Hidden with full knowledge was Creator,
Implementer of dreams
gathering raw data to circumvent
the mind’s illusions.
My god, he said
and picked up the mallet
with his own hands
to chisel his own destiny.
(poem written 1980/81)
artwork by Claudia Hallissey