> From this.
Eternity has revealed itself to me as if in a fourth spatial dimension, as best I could perceive it from the framework of a mortal, out of my third, or ajna eye. And I saw those who were trapped in the lower realm, those who would never (some, never again) touch the face of God. There was a time when I was with Albert, and the subject of Adolf Hitler came up (last time, promise). Hitler came to me, thinking I could save him based on my old delusions of grandeur, and I just looked away: “I’m not the savior.” And it got around that he ran out of advocates. “He did not survive,” the Lord broke it to Albert and me. The wages of sin is death. Never forget that. This earthly realm, its spirit and its material: all of it shall pass away, along with all those whom Christ does not know.
All I saw in the lower realm, the finite realm, were the faces of the dead. Of those living, those whom Christ gives life eternal to, time is limitless, and spent at one’s leisure; for those cast from Heaven, and those among them born on earth who also chose that direction of destiny, they are as if trapped in a walled off sphere of the aethers, never (again) to reach out to Heaven. They chose the finite, they chose the domain of evil, which was not allowed to stay in Heaven — and was therefore cast out, never again to taint the holy realm. They did it of their own free will, and they are responsible for their actions. Some destined to the outer darkness, and while they breathe, not to breathe of the air of paradise.
> From this.
True love is a love that is meant to be, beyond the imagination of all the storybook writers. It was never meant to be for us, one might posit, like unto a Platonic ideal from which all other loves are shadows of it. It is pretty much understood that it has never once surfaced in the waking world, no Cinderella, no Snow White, not for real. We have grown to accept it, that’s reality. A real-life prince is not like what the cartoons imply one is. There is no fairy godmother, and the pumpkin remains a pumpkin. Yet we will still seek it out, the romantics of us. Every once in a while, one of us to find someone with whom we think we have it: love, true love. Even if somewhere very far buried is the voice that says no, that actually isn’t what we were talking about. (So what, right? Close enough.)
A love that is truly meant to be is the reward we all seek, but we will find that we on this world are involved not in the destination, only the journey. Along the way, we will find meaning here and there, and we will find love that is “meant to be,” of a sort; but the meaning in true love, the love divine — this is stuff not to be comprehended while still within the sphere of the material. This world was not meant for that kind of crown. Only transcendent can such love exist, and it is too huge for the entire world to hold. Thus in the idea that there is a meaning of life: one believes, dreams that there is some formula or philosophy or poetry, but we will always be short of inventing one that is really satisfying. Because the meaning of life is in love’s true fulfillment, and none of us will ever know it, in this world. Not to say in settling for what we get, here and now, that we are getting nothing. It’s just that there is more than meets the eye. You’ll see.
> From this.
“Operationally, God is beginning to resemble not a ruler but the last fading smile of a cosmic Cheshire cat.” Julian Huxley said that, and I can quite see his point, why it looks as it does. Right? What Huxley is talking about is that we used to think the answer for everything was simply, “God”. Lightning, rain, sunlight — God controlled everything. Now that we’ve found the scientific connections and explanations, where is there room for God? Way back when, in Eden, He would come down to earth and walk among us, tell us directly what we should and shouldn’t be doing. From that, in the generations to come, He would retreat, farther and farther up in His cloud, so that in these days, He is almost like a rumor rather than the Main Story.
Well, for my part, God has spoken to me, directly, though it was much of the time like unto the prophets of old, where true He spoke, but He spoke in riddles to me. I am no Moses. And you are now reading the book of my prophecy, what the Lord revealed to me, some directly, some teased out of the Mystery.
What if God always was at a place we can never reach — namely, infinity — and before, the primitive means of understanding Him that He gave us were like an adult who stoops down to the level of a child? As the child learns more, he finds that the world is so much richer than he had ever thought before, and more mysterious. God’s connection to the world seems more and more subtle not because He has changed, but that our understanding of everything has changed; ultimately that our purpose in knowing: it is to transcend knowledge… if one is ever ready for it, a pure perception then how God is beyond, beyond all things… and waits for us to comprehend the magnitude of heaven.
> From this.
Does the world make sense to you? If not, you are among the vast majority. Sure, our world makes sense enough: wake up, go to work, they give you money, you buy things, find someone and make a family: if you want to see it that way, no problem, really — some will say that that is the world making sense to them. But look out the window, or better yet, watch the television, and there’s a whole mess of stuff that begs to be sorted out. Why do bad things happen to good people? That is the classic case of the world not making sense. Life isn’t fair. (Though once, I overheard, “What’s unfair about life is that it is fair.” Don’t know how much I believe that.) Perhaps I’ve written in this general vicinity previously, enough so that you can tell what I’ll be pitching your way in this field.
So, can you do it? Can you make sense of all the world, the universe and everything in it? Is that possible for a mere mortal to achieve? What if one can answer “yes” to that? Would you put your neck out there with the solution to it all? And not just the number “42” am I talking about. And if one does figure it out, can it be put into words, even? Is it some sort of transcendental vapor-talk that says sounds that seem like words, but don’t quite behave like them? Perhaps some really do have eyes to see. Let me tell you for our part that Philip K. Dick and I are witnesses to all that was, all that is, and all that is to come. In the paradigm of the bare metal of Creation. As I’ve written, he laid down the groundwork (to the tune of some 8,000 handwritten pages), and I am here to make sense of things, based on those and other previous works.
Simply put, if one only is to see what is material, it is not to see the whole route of where destiny leads, for most if not all of the destinies of the people in the world. Everyone has a destiny, and this is necessarily a non-material thing. For destinies cannot be traded, like coins. If you see only a part of the puzzle and think that is all there is, you will never solve it. Thus to think that the world is inherently meaningless: because the meaning is not seen with those eyes that you are used to. And too, sometimes to think it makes sense because you see only a piece of the piece (where things work out), and you are only playing with toys, with hollow models of things. For to see the grandness is also all the tragedy and woe, and to know where these things fit, too. As the mote in the eye of God.
What if it all does make sense?
> From this.
Why is life so hard, then, if God is good? There is a method to this mystery, in fact, more than one. To quote from the movie A League of Their Own: “If it wasn’t hard, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great.” Life, though, everyone does do it, else they wouldn’t be a part of everyone? Missing the point. It’s that the hard makes things worth it, right? Climbing the mountain a different sense of things than landing there by helicopter? It comes to the same logic why things are imperfect: you will appreciate it more. You get more with less.
But back to everyone doing it: actually, no, not everyone truly does do it: not everyone truly lives. For things that require craft, the technique of years’ experience tend to produce things that show the care used in creating them. And so it would be with life: one where everything comes by just snapping one’s fingers, however much material treasure is accumulated, this is just not the same as when things are earned through the work. We are not to throw away the conveniences, but also not to stop with what comes easy; an easier environment is to raise the bar higher at what you must achieve in comparison. For a life not well lived is bereft of its meaning. It is unfortunate that some people choose exactly that, forsaking the hard. The meaning of life is how much you’ve loved living it. An easy life is easily a throwaway existence — and love, it might be said, is all the things you keep.
i am aloft, floating in a stream of information
the idea has been hiding in oblivion, dug out from creation
i have picked at the outline, careful not to break the metaphor
clumps of false equations lie all around me
i do not know to where i drift, but trust these currents
to where next i must excavate, sift through the unknowns
where i dig, i shake the dust of immortals
> From this.
Before the last set of visions I had, I had had “episodes” before, when the visions basically took over my day to day existence. It usually onset by my smoking pot and getting off my medication. Not this last time, though: no drugs involved at all, not even as innocuous as marijuana. And every other time, after those visions basically “had their way with me”, I always seemed to come down from the heavenly heights — and all I needed to do to explain things was to say that it was just a trip, just my brain imbalanced of its chemicals, rational explanations. But then this last time, I know from this one, I’m never coming down. The genie is out of the bottle, Pandora’s box has been opened.
In all the other times, I’d always been able before to discern the hallucination from the reality — but they went over the top this last time. On Mac OS X, in the upper right corner is a magnifying glass which, if clicked, accesses Spotlight, to search. I tried that and that didn’t happen. I tried again, and no. It was so ODD. Instead of Spotlight, Dictionary popped up on the screen. And the angels gleefully let me know that they were responsible for it. I tried it a bunch of times. Holy crap, this is real. Then I bring up a directory listing window and I had it sort by name, and that was the most messed up alphabetical order I’ve ever seen! Weirdsort. Whatever you want to make of it, I know what I saw. It made me question just where I was, astral-plane-wise. Or if I were even still alive.
