October 27, 2022. . .(I posted this essay more than 5 years ago and my thoughts today have only deepened. The wish I hold still is that there would have been someone early on that I could have voiced my thoughts with no fear. In my terminus I fulfil the old maxim that the end of our lives are only more of what we were in the beginning. This does not apply across the board, because our histories differ.
It brings to mind from the Dead Sea Scrolls the Nazarene upbraiding the disciples for asking where they go when they die. You never asked from where you come he angrily shouted.
From when I was a girl, memory has chased me without a putting place in today’s world. It always has been my inner focus and readies me now for an embrace. Love awaits.)
Previous Post. . . .In the many studies on love and goodness, what appears to be evident is that when one is aware of good and when one comes to the time to do good, the choices are few to do other than good. When you become better and better, your options cease.
Heaven goes one better. When approaching sainthood, the options are not there anymore. And even if sainthood is not on our conscious agenda, I clue you that it is somewhere in us. These they refer as those who have made the light a beacon force in their lives. And who in their secret thoughts would deny this, that they would be less than a beacon of light?
When the mind is one with the god mind, only for that which gives life (and who would deny otherwise, no matter the personal consequences?) humanity’s progression is the only path to take.
Here Is Where We Live. . .
There was a time
when thoughts and desires
were simple and
fleshed out a life.
When rain on the windows
promised a day with a good book.
Commitments came with age
and options few.
A book became a luxury
with sleep non existent and
a nap became the respite.
Fewer options were the result
of choices, and commitments
took precedent because
other lives were at stake.
Big lessons to teach and
necessary ones, if the evolution
of humanity was to continue.
A trip to the moon and a jaunt to Mars
will be the children’s dream
but here on Earth is where
we cook the oatmeal
to feed the children’s dreams.
Painting by
Claudia Hallissey