From an Upper Floor

November 4, 2019—the night before, Sunday the 3^rd of November  I read the following and it undid me.  I will write more of this time later but need to post the edited journal entry of Oct 24, ’91.  I have only been familiar with quantum theory since 2015 and Michael Talbot’s holographic universe.  This has answered more about my life than psychiatry ever could or did.  Even if you do not understand that all time is simultaneous, keep it in mind.  It all really happened yesterday.)

October 24, ‘91 I woke up with the word pewabic and wrote it down in the dark.  Later Jan did not know the word but Mark J thought it had to do with pottery.   There was a Native American tribe known as Pewabic in Detroit at one time. 

I scribed as follows. . .In the dream you were given instructions.  You were working with the hands on a piece of pottery that stemmed from the area where you were.  The ancient civilizations were using the tiles, borrowed from the more modern ones.  Now you halt.  But just take the dictation.  You were seen working with the tiles and with the pottery from a distant past.  The materials were not as ancient as you depict simply because they were of borrowed times.

Now when we speak of borrowed times, we say that within the past and the present, or within the past and the future, there is a melding that defies the linear description common to where you are.  If we were to take for instance, the computer where you sit and work and transport it to another time, it would not have the functions, but the rudiments would be the same.  The ability to work with the hands would be utilized and the time differential would be such that there would be little difference except in the illusion, i.e. the materials.

Even the seepage would be there and indeed the machine would be in some form a part of where you would be and what you would be doing.  Hence, the term, bleed through.  It seems that this area of thinking is common to you and presents so much difficulty, for you see what you see from a kaleidoscopic view, bringing into focus bits and pieces of several dimensions.

It is a difficult state to be in, but you can utilize this by taking a more comprehensive look at things and bringing to it what you can see from eyes that work a bit differently.

It would seem that from a distance all would be of a piece but when the eyes view a particular scene with so much input from other dimensions, a new dimension is thus created.  You would then find that others dismiss as inconsequential what you see, which is not the case.  For what you see is many dimensional and the differing perspectives that you propose would do much to enhance the ability of others to understand those things needing a larger premise.

When you describe your Pewabic dream, the dream  of making with the hands, you already ask the question, what was I doing there?  And when was this?  You already have the ability to esconce  yourself in the time frame  you wish to work.  You find that the dreaming is the dimension where you learn what it is you do and bring to your tasks the abilities to bear.

What then can you understand from the time frame?  That within the dream you sashay back and forth , utilizing the classrooms everywhere you are.  You mesh with the folks of the time period and oh yes, they indeed know you.  You are visible to many of them.  They wish for your arrival.

You speak the languages.  You understand their desires with an understanding that speaks to their hearts.  And how we ask does she do this?  By simply thrusting the heart into place and using it as her springboard.  What we would ask you now, since the dream presented such a vivid response in so small a portion visible, take your information and relay it in the best manner possible.  We will give you impetus to what you do.  It is time now to give to others some semblance of stability in a time of no normalcy.

artwork by claudia hallissey

Scribing Selections. . . .

The world opens and closes to give us glimpses momentarily.  But these glimpses of the view linger to haunt us forever.

*****

What you see is not what you get.  What you get is what you see.

*****

What stays in the mind is easier to relate to than what is visibly present.  Sometimes the moment is too rich to be palatable; a photo of the event can be enough.

*****

Freedom is a sacrament and sacraments are hard to come by.

*****

What is visible is visible and what is visible can be chosen not to be seen.  The depth of perception only depends on the inmost courage of the individual in his capacity to deal with impending events.

*****

When to release the child in us is such a tortured event we must with courage ask why.  We think often it means our death is imminent but perhaps we need this release for life abundant.  But only as we observe with knowledge that life is neverending, is everlasting and the challenge is in the journey, is the hope that mankind  will tolerate the fact that destiny is in mankind’s hands.

*****

What happens in the world we inhabit is but a reflection of the greater world and what transpires in greater degree elsewhere.

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When one proclaims his ignorance in life and death questions he also proclaims his negligence in the obligation of thinking.

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The split in Man is so dichotomous that his life is one mass of contradictions.  He will volunteer his help or do work for the underprivileged in his three name suits and she in her Italian shoes will do charity and they will drive the ill to their chemo appointments in luxury vehicles . . . A complex situation to be sure as they wonder the reasons their children are in counseling. . . . .

Claim The Difference. . .

From a July 24,’84 entry—-because I have integrated simultaneous time during my adult life (it was not easy and I also am familiar with dimensions of no time with dream frames posted on my blog), the following was an early topic of discussion (from a cosmic view, yesterday).  I have quoted Albert Einstein on simultaneous time and also philosopher Robert Nozick on World Creation (0thers also) during recent years upon discovery.  Since I am not credentialed, these have been in over half a century of Independent Study I have researched.

I was told and I scribed the following. . . I asked. . . was it a different world?

It was, it was.  It was a world where belief had the power of logic.  Where prayer was direct communication with what was the belief at the time, where the arch angels stepped between man and his desires and procured them for the supplicant.  It was all those things and more.

Man did not roam the Earth without an anchor at will or put his faith in the machines that mimicked his mind.  He conquered what he needed with the virtue within.  He did those things because he did not know he could not.

With all that he was he was able to do.  Anything.

With all that he thought, he was able to bring under his dominion all that he thought had life.  And he brought these under his dominion.  Until he tired.  Until he became less entranced with the trivialities of the dailiness and became enamored with the glitter of his toys.

He could do these things because the thought that he could not do them did not enter his mind.  Think on that for awhile.  It was a different world.

It was a world where the jester could make the common man laugh.  Because the jester was comical.

And the common man was not conscious of what made the comic a comic.  And now everyone is a comic. Everyone is what he thinks he is by mimicking what he sees, what he reads and what is heard.

We do not resent what we see here.  Instead we ask what did we not do?  We take into account that you say the difference is slight.  We say to you then, claim the difference.  Do not allow those who are limited, limit you.

Knowledge is innate.  You know the difference in worlds.  Use it.

Prayer in  Concert  (excerpt). . . 

now you tell them
in languages understood
how deep the hunger for knowledge
can be as if for bread; to keep alive
a mind from sleep;
(like scourge it contaminates
all minds of men).

We wake them up and
put to work the fathers
of the children forever seeded

with memory from a place the angels tread.