"The Perfect Motion"

     Well... vicissitudes.  It's a part of life.  It is life.  And yet... permanence is, too.  They are the yin and yang of life.  They are two aspects of the whole of life, beyond even the beyond where comparison and measurement are impossible.
     So we simply must surf, feeling our way through our existence.  The sweet spot, the pure groove, the perfect motion is Reality.

"Stars Twinkle and Babies Smile"

     I remember a long time ago, whew! (in the early 1970's !!), I met a student artist who said in casual conversation that, "Art is a window into reality."  I did not know what she meant then.  But over the years, after having brushed up against so much art on canvas, in literature, in music, dance, philosophy and every other creative venue imaginable including Nature herself, I came to realize that "Yes" when art is created from that special inner place in our souls, it is an expression, a voice of Divine Reality, eternal and infinite.  And even butterflies speak it and stars twinkle it and babies smile it.  It is everywhere and everywhen.

"Refusing to Give In to Death"

     Chris, I am having a bit of difficulty with depression right now.  It’s about a half hour before noon.  I bathed, wrote, read, meditated, had a small breakfast, meditated more.  The Shabd was bright and clear and audible.  But I was unable to let go of memories of you, because I was afraid I might abandon you in the process.  I know, it is not good reasoning.  But that is where my head was.
     The meditation helped, though itching and hives weakened it by sapping my attention, making me scratch.  I just couldn't find a balance between “non-I-ness” and “just enough I-ness” to hold onto you in my consciousness and yet let go of everything else.  I don’t want to abandon you, Honey Bun.  I kept some few physical memories alive to keep a tether connecting us across the unknown, the unsure, the deep void of ignorance, the chasm between life and death.  But this very tether of memory might be the very thing that is separating us right now.
     But these memories associated with my physical brain expressed themselves as grief-stricken kicks to my chest, or as a vice grip of painful emotions crushing my physical heart.  The feeling of loss is horrible and very physical.  Any other loss is at least endurable.  But the loss of you is unbearable beyond description.  And that, at least in a way is a sign that our love has real eternal tenacity, a tenacity bridging my life to yours.  I think so.  I hope so.
     I went for a walk.  Pacing briskly back and forth around the drive and out to the highway, going not far but back and forth many times.  I had no where to go.  Geographically, there is no place to be.  All places are the same.  Where I need to go is to another place in spirit, to where you are.
     And in comes doubt right at this point.  Am I fooling myself?
     If I could have held you those last few minutes.  But I was exhausted, sick from fatigue, nauseated.  I passed out beside your bed.  You had whispered to me earlier, “Stay with me a little while.”  I fell asleep next to you.  I woke up, looked at you, thought you were sleeping peacefully and healing in a restful peace.  I went to the kitchen to wash dishes and start coffee.
     Twenty… thirty minutes I was in there then looked back in on you and you had lightly flung your arm over and rolled onto your back.  I checked closely.  Shook you lightly.  Then more firmly.  And more firmly still.  You were not breathing.  You were leaving me forever!
     God this hurts!  I wish I could have held you at the end!
     Honey Bun.  This feeling, almost two years later, is still unbearable.  But I must live with it.  I must understand it.  I do not believe that a pain as severe as this love-grief is an illusion.  It may slip in through the cracks of ignorance and illusion.  But the emotional pain is real.  So I must face it, understand it.
     I do not want you to feel this pain!  But I thank God that it is I who must suffer this pain alone by myself in this physical world, instead of you!  I would hate to think of you alone in this world, suffering this emotional pain of deep loss, without me or anyone else to hold you and comfort you.  I want you to be okay, to be happy, joyful, feel bliss and be loved, and assured by infinite wisdom that I am real and I am really coming to your side, returning to you, my dear wife, Christel.  Even if I myself am an illusion, I will make myself real, for you.  I am coming home to you if I have to recreate the entire universe to do so.  If that takes a trillion trillion years or more, a trillion infinities, I will stick it out and do it!  Do not worry yourself over this.  I will find a way!  I believe there is a way.  I believe there are infinite ways to do infinite things in this infinite universe!
     If I could feel… or, let me put it this way, “when” I do feel that you are happy and at peace, I am happy and at peace, too.  But sometimes doubts creep in… and it makes my faith tremble.  I just care infinitely for your well being.  I care.  I love.  This world has nothing to give me.  Only our love is essential.
     I love you, Honey Bun.  Don’t worry about me.  I’ll keep at it.  The Hindu gurus might say I am working off karmic debts with my personal suffering, with my unrelenting search and the devastating power of my love longing for you, with the piercing pain of my broken heart, this may be my karmic debt for reuniting with you, which is a good thing.  So never you worry about me.  The light at the end of my tunnel is you, Darling, the brightest light in all my universe.
     So you be at peace.  I'm okay.  And I'm on my way.  See you soon, my beloved wife, Chris.

"Wordless Communication"

     I was bent over inspecting a tiny rock, turning it over in my hand.  I needed something to wrap it in.  A tall slender man who was a complete stranger walking by happened to glance at what I was doing.  I glanced back into his eyes.  He understood my tiny need, fished out a piece of paper and handed it to me.  I took it from his hand and finished the process of wrapping the rock as he continued on his way.  Not a word, not a nod or wink, passed between us.  Only the understanding of the need to complete a simple process.  It was a seamless experience.  We were all in the moment with the understanding of its context.  We played our parts without effort of any kind.

"Haecceity and Duns Scotus"

     I love you, Honey Bun.  Good morning.
     I had plenty of dreams but only one cohesive scene made it through the transition from the astral to physical dimensions.  In this short scene, my younger sister, R., appeared to be the young girl she had been long ago, at twelve years old or so (she is around 60 now at the moment of this writing).
     In the strange physics of dreams, I was still in my so-called senior tears.
     My sister was telling me how much she liked my friend who had just walked away from us.  This was a tall slender woman with long, straight, ashen hair and a relaxed, stately manner about her.  (It may have been an astral version of you, Chris, which would account for the deep love I felt for this woman).
     "Yea,” I responded to my sister, “She is pleasant, isn't she?  I haven't told anybody this yet, but we are going to be married."
     When I said this, my voice caught in my throat for a moment with strong emotion.  I blinked sudden tears from my eyes.  I’m not sure why I felt this way about this woman because those precise feelings I had only associated with you before.
     "Oh, that is wonderful!" my sister exclaimed.
     "Yes.  It is."
     That was the dream world experience.  I remember it as a little island of cohesion in an ocean of scattered qualia and fragments of astral people and places.  But I did retain the impression of there having been many more cohesive experiences during the night, which did not make it through to concrete memory upon awakening.
     Perhaps the reason this particular segment came through strongly intact was my own puzzlement over feeling such strong emotions for someone other than you, Honey Bun.  Was this tall, stately woman you, yourself, in another guise?  In another form?  How many forms and guises can we wear in the astral world?
     There is a word, “haecceity” (pronounced “hak ‘see uh tee”) coined by Duns Scotus (c. 1266 to November 1308) who was an important philosopher-theologian of the higher Middle Ages.  The meaning of the term “haecceity” comes from Latin “haecceitas” meaning “thisness”.
     What I am about to say in this particular paragraph is a little off the present topic but I must squeeze it in exactly here because it seems so very relevant to our interdimensional communications and the overall subject of this letter I am writing today.  What I am saying is this: Duns Scotus was a Scottish scholastic theologian.  Scottish!  Duns Scotus!  It is difficult to think that only blind accident led me to the thoughts of this particular philosopher-theologian.  I mean, just yesterday I mentioned in my morning letter to you, Chris, that I brought back clear memories of the dream experience we shared the previous night in which you wrapped sticky “scotch” tape around my hand!  Do you remember?  Of course you do!  Now look at the connections!  Scottish and Scotus!  “Scotch” tape!  And what follows this paragraph will bring more light onto the importance of this philosopher, his ideas, and how they relate to you and me!
     Duns Scotus used the term “haecceity” (thisness) to indicate what he considered to be the ultimate unity exclusive to a unique individual, as opposed to the common features shared by a group of any number of individuals.
     I need more time to express details of this important observation from Duns Scotus but the unique “thisness” of you, Honey Bun, is what I think I saw in the ashen haired woman whom I spoke about in my dream with my sister last night.  I recognized this essential soul quality, the “you-ness” of you, in that female person.  That’s why I felt this unaccountable love for her.  It was you I loved.  She was you.
     I have suspected for a long time that we souls often change forms, bodies, and even personalities in the astral and other spiritual regions but remain our true selves regardless of what form and personality we dress ourselves in.  It is a higher dimension after all, allowing many added kinds of opportunities in which to express ourselves.  In the physical world it is clothes and buzzwords.  In the higher dimensions, it is bodies and minds and perhaps groups of bodies and minds, yet all very personal to each one of us individual souls.
     Hence, the choking on words in my throat and the tears welling in my eyes when I told my sister about this ashen haired woman, these feelings that were so tuned to only you, Christel, are now explained.  She was you.  But I want to study these thoughts and ideas of Duns Scotus in much more depth now after having learned about their existence.
     I love you, Honey Bun.  Thanks for the Scotch!  Cheers to us!

Are not such presentations part of the vocabulary of God?

“Eternal Infinite Soul”

    The pendulum swings to an extreme of activity, bearing fruits of every kind.  And then it swings back downward through the center of the arc and up into utter silence and stillness, where even the self is left behind.  This swinging continues back and forth through time immemorial.  Where am I in this continuous existence, this yin and yang of aspects?  No, not dead center only.  But the ends of the arc as well.  And Beyond.  Where no human terms can reveal.  And thus we have Eternal Infinite Soul.

"Forever Alive"

     We cross the borders of life and death as gradually as the seasons change.  Many of us do not even notice it happen.

"Feeling Embarrassed?"

When I feel embarrassed, I instantly realize this is an opportunity to study my ego. For this is the creature who is embarrassed. I jump right on the opportunity, in the moment. Who really is this ego? I observe the thoughts that build it up. I watch qualities of it pass like clouds and wisps and sensations through my mind. This not only increases my mastery over my ego but develops a habit of the call to attention to the now. Whenever the ego pops up, it is the call. It amounts to dynamic transcendental meditation that can be practiced everywhere, not just sitting cross legged in a silent room (though I definitely do practice that, as well).

"Above Time"

     When you stand on the corner of a busy intersection and look east, you see the busy street stretch out into the distance before you in one direction.  Then you turn around into the opposite direction and see the same street continue into the distance in that direction.
     Next, you turn south and see the other road of the intersection stretch away southward in that direction.  And finally looking behind you, you see this same street continue into the distance of the north direction.
     By twisting and turning, squinting and peering around people and over objects, you piece together a view of the intersection and the surrounding city.  This is how we perceive our world in linear time.
     To see all things and directions of the intersection at once, simultaneously, one must rise 90 degrees above the intersection, vertically, as if carried up in an elevator to the roof of a high building above it all, and then look down.  Now we have a perpendicular view of all the streets, and all the directions, and all the people in the busy intersection.
     In this way, by rising higher in consciousness, we obtain a similar perpendicular view of time, where the past and the future are one simultaneous event, and the "now moment" contains all the activity.

Spiritual Insight from Vincent Van Gogh

“What am I in the eyes of most people — a nonentity, an eccentric, or an unpleasant person — somebody who has no position in society and will never have; in short, the lowest of the low. All right, then — even if that were absolutely true, then I should one day like to show by my work what such an eccentric, such a nobody, has in his heart. That is my ambition, based less on resentment than on love in spite of everything, based more on a feeling of serenity than on passion. Though I am often in the depths of misery, there is still calmness, pure harmony and music inside me. I see paintings or drawings in the poorest cottages, in the dirtiest corners. And my mind is driven towards these things with an irresistible momentum.” ― Vincent van Gogh

A Void Filling a Dream

     Good morning, Honey Bun.  I love you.  Ah!  Shabd sounds richly in my ears as I begin this letter to you!
     I dreamed during the night but the only fragment I retain now has only me in it, with a brief appearance of one of my current neighbors whom you never met while you were in the flesh.  I was telling this fellow about something that was helpful to me and free to anybody, which could be gotten from the community room.  This room was small and almost completely empty.  Even the walls beyond the door did not show up in the dream.  The only purpose this room served in the dream was to be a place where this free item, that I was telling the neighbor about, could easily be found on a single small table.  Only the portion of the surface of this table which was nearest the door was actually visible.  The free thing, or stack of these things, on it was something like a clear plastic bag.  I have forgotten exactly what they were and in what way they were useful.  But they were a symbol for something which was a convenience of some kind.  As I write this, I think that precisely what they were is unimportant but the fact that they were useful and I wanted to share this knowledge with somebody was.
     I went to the little room to get it and bring it back to the neighbor.  But I discovered all of it had disappeared, even the room I think, or at least access to the room for I did encounter a locked door.
     The same neighbor reappeared briefly one more time in the dream to give me some old mail which had been lost in forwarding from an old address.  I believe this old address was our Huger Street address, my dear Christel.
     As I gradually woke up, uncommonly slowly and steadily, it was almost with the same slow change one sees the dawn push the night away from view.  As I was waking, I wondered where this mail had been and realized that I did not know many details of where I currently was or even where I was now getting my current mail.  That is, I did not know where I was or even where I lived now.  I realized my mind was filled with an area of fuzzy though comfortable blankness about two thirds the volume of my cranium and expanding in area.  All awareness of details of my life were disappearing and a kind of peaceful cloudy light was filling the void.  Then I was awake.
     I love you, Honey Bun.

Where Are You Now?

     The great thing about learning spiritual truths through direct conscious contact with the "now" is that you don't have to be particularly intelligent to do so.  All you need to do is keep pulling your attention back into the present, when you notice it getting too involved in thoughts that have nothing to do with your present state of being.  Just as you would flip a light switch on to illuminate a room; you would switch your "now consciousness" back on to see where you are now.  Try it!  Where are you now?

"Change as an Aspect of Oneness"

     Things in our world seem to change because transformation is a permanent aspect of reality, at least as we view reality through the lens of linear time.  We are both verb and noun, so to speak.  Two aspects of one existence.  Verb and noun.  Force and object.  The oneness of true essence is radiated outward as an illusion of duality.  This duality is really just two simultaneous “aspects” of that oneness.  Verb and noun, force and object, we perceive as a linear flow through time instead of a timeless eternal singular event.  Driving a mile on the highway is a singular event in the “now” but we perceive it as a linear process taking place through time, because we have been taught to organize our sensory data in sequential steps, one step following another.

"Surrendering the Ego"

Is surrendering the ego to higher consciousness suicide?
Answer: No. It is eliminating sickness from the spirit.
What happens to the spirit after this?
It remembers infinity.

"Love's Endless Modes"

     Good morning, My Love.  I love you with a strength that will outlast the universe.
     I know that is a lot to say.  But I believe love is something that makes the universe, not something that is made by the universe.  This puts love at the core of everything.  But not only at the core.  It is the body of everything.  But not only the body.  It is the dreams of everything.  It is the only true substance existing.  So any manifested reality is an expression of love.
     And therefore eternal.
     When two lovers look at each other, love looks at love.  Love looks at itself, in the you and the me.  Love is the only thing in existence.  All other things are stories love makes for infinite purposes to give infinite expression to itself.  Dramas are acted by love on a stage made by love.  Dreams are made by love on beds made of love.
     It forgets things on purpose so that it can feel the joys of discovery.
     Love makes music out of sunlight and sunlight out of music and puts it into nested eggs to hatch the freedom of birds in flight.
     Love allows logic and it allows illogic.  It is above both and expresses itself through both.  It allows the real and allows the unreal.  It is above both and gives freedom to both.
     Love is freedom and its domain is miracle.  Love can do anything.
     Love lets us fool ourselves because it knows we will return to truth when it is ready for us to come home.
     I would like to say of myself that I have always felt comfortable in the belief that we will all be reunited with our maker eventually.  As a matter of fact, I have always known that we are already fully united with the ultimate and separated only in thought, in faulty thinking, which will completely clear up one day.  This has never been a matter of urgency for me personally.
     What has been urgent for me is reuniting with you!  I know we are both headed to the same wonderful place.  But I want us to get there hand in hand.

Doris Day - Que Sera Sera

The flame must burn to illuminate

"The Garden of Love"

Three buzzards with onyx eyes unfold.
Those black eyes reflecting gold.
I sludge through garbage beneath their tree.
They laugh at my efforts and smirk at me.

I get lost and confused.  My heart is used.
Again I climb the Yin-Yang tree.
A buzzard hands an apple to me.
I bite, under eyes of ice.
Darkness descends.

A new story begins.
Eyes of onyx laughing at me
from the limbs of the Yin-Yang tree.

Sol's golden rays begin
new days of growths and decays.
Thus goes my first, second,
third, fourth, and fifth stay.

Suddenly a shuffling begins.
 People enter isles with their friends.
They think it’s the end.
But it’s the way new nightmares begin.

The buzzards snicker and smirk with glee.
They continue to ridicule me.
Onyx eyes screech hatred from their tree.
They tear and smirk and scratch at me.

Credits roll, a sickening scroll,
voice after voice, bemoaning the toll.
The doors swing wide.  An explosion of light.
I cover my eyes to Sol's sheer might.
 
Buzzards laugh from the tree in delight.
They glare with eyes of black ice.

Sol disappears down western sky.
Tender stars see me cry.
Cool dark I see, suddenly,
my angel spreading arms to me!

My soul! My heart!  I so adore!
This vision, I beg for more!

“Come now, my Sweet,” her melody,
“Leave the tree and come to me.”
“Such Yin-Yang fruits should never be,”
her melody comforts me.

“Such poisonous thoughts are not for you,
“but for onyx eyes playing the fool.”

(Shoo!  Shoo! You buzzards!  I say true!
Yin-Yang poisons grow just for you!)

“Come, now, my Love, my Darling Dove.
“And live with me in the Garden of Love."

"Yesterday's Long Walk"

     Yesterday's long walk was meditative.  Most of it, like dreams, cannot be translated into normal physical existence.  But I remember talking (or sermoning) to you, as I walked mile after mile, talking about the microbial size of human beings, and all their universe relative to them, this compared to all that we living souls really are composed of as conscious beings stretching infinitely back beyond the genesis of this brief and fleeting moment of our human beingness mode of experience, and also stretching infinitely far beyond the future of this fleeting mode into endless existences to come.

     And our one love shared by our dual aspect, which is but one facet of our love, we remain together through it all!  Always!  We are what we are always, eternally, two souls expressing one love indestructible and eternal.

     We are that, Christel!  This is what I experienced, what we experienced, in our long walk beside the airport yesterday.

     I love you, Honey Bun.

"Divine Incarnation"

     We don't need scheduled practices to spread our spiritual wings.  Schedules are rooted in time.  Be spontaneous.  Fly. Fly high!  Fly free!

     A divine thing the angels bring.  A smile so adoring.  Give one to an old woman in her wheelchair, her childlike stare.  Make that dear angel's morning.

     And the man standing next to her, so loyal and adoring.  Smile at him also, for from both pure love is flowing.

     Such is not a scheduled practice but a spontaneous act of love, a river of divine light given freely from above.

"The Door"

    Whole families over centuries and millennia have passed this way.  They have come and gone, each and every one of them.  Any whom were left behind waited only the smallest, insignificant amounts of time before they too followed upon the heels of their own loved ones into the unknown.  We all go through that door.  Millions.  Billions.  Trillions when also counting intelligent and spiritually guided non humans.

    Where we come out, is for our innermost souls to know.  But it is strangely comforting to know that we all pass through the same world, and nobody escapes the experience.  Somehow, the fact that all life must go through that door is a relief to me and I believe to most people.  It’s a relief because it is obvious that we are designed to do this, to be here temporarily and then to continue on.  And if we are important enough to have been designed this way -- by God, nature, or some brilliant intelligence as far above our awareness of life as we are above the ant's -- it is doubtful that the purpose was simply to throw us away without thought or due consideration.  And if due consideration has brought us this far, to the door of infinite mystery, I believe our creator has planned for us to go further.

    So, even though we all must pass through this door of mystery, we shall pass into something right, not wrong or accidental.  And we shall probably meet up with each other on the other side.  And our love here in the physical realm ought to keep us together in the spiritual realms beyond that door.

"Dreaming of Clouds and Tunnels"

     You and I are in some sort of transport machine which is digging a tunnel through the ground.  A few other passengers are traveling with us.  This strange underground bus, if you will, breaks down temporarily.

     Above ground is blue sky filled with about twenty white clouds spaced equally apart, well defining themselves against the blue of the sky and against each other.  One single cloud near the middle was dirty brown and black as if made from old dirt and debris.

     As the magic of astral experiences go, we know this about the clouds and somehow see it clearly while we are still under ground inside the temporarily stopped tunneling machine.

     We are together!  As always!  That is the most important detail of all!

     A sick sparrow is in the air inside our transport machine, its wings too weak to keep it any longer in the air.  It begins to fall.  I catch it.   It turns into a parrot in my hand.  I ask you what I can do to help it.

     You tell me to put him in its cage.  That’s his home, you say.  He is comfortable there.

     Later, a gangster brings us our beautiful cat, a gorgeous ball of fur.  His woman lawyer brings the cat into our bedroom and places her on the bed next to me.  The cat is so very fluffy and beautiful.  She purrs as I pet her.

     The gangster we know has come to the transport machine to get his dog.

     The details of the dream are fading now.  But I think the symbolism is multidimensional.  You and I  and the other passengers are souls traveling through incarnations in the physical world.  The physical world is represented by the tunnel.  The temporal aspect of this world is represented by the temporary stop of the tunneling transport machine we are currently riding in.

      The clouds above us are our life experiences seen in their wholeness above time.  Our view is at a ninety degree angle away from time.  We see these whole life processes stretched out before our gaze from beginning to end.  Remember Aristotle said something like we don't know a thing completely until we see it through all its stages from its beginning to its end.

     The dirty cloud represents a life not yet complete, which accounts for its dirtiness.  It has not been cleaned up yet.  I am still incarnated in this physical world working off my karma while you assist me from the higher dimensions as my loving soul mate.  When we finish this karmic duty properly this cloud, too, will be white and in line with the rest now floating gracefully through the blue sky.

     Our souls, Honey Bun, are fully alive beyond time and the temporary bodies we occasionally use.  This is a dream showing that truth.  I love you.  Thanks to you and us and all good things and all helpful souls for these wonderful uplifting dreams!

"Contemplating Rationalization"

   
     What is the etymology of the word "rational"?  It came from the Latin word ratio, meaning "reasoning."  There are many uncountable realities passing through our field of awareness all the time, especially during attentive meditations.  This parade of realities is populated by many and various souls, coming into view and passing out.  Various themes, human and otherwise, come and go also like parallel dimensions existing side by side in worlds beyond time and fitting together beyond the limitations of space.  Many of these realities need not pass through the meat grinder of "rationalization" to prove their existence.  “Esse est percipi” as the eighteenth century Anglo-Irish philosopher George Berkeley said (“To be is to be perceived”).  What more proof do we need of the existence of something?  To think every thing must pass the test of human rationality and scientific orthodoxy before it can be confirmed real is childish and absurd.  Such a demand is a mark of immaturity of the human mind.  To think that a modern world filled with glitter and pollution is better than a natural, unpolluted Garden of Eden is another mark of immaturity if not utter insanity.

"Only Steps Away from Reunion"

     We were together in dreamland last night.   Thank goodness.  I am glad to see that our time together has not diminished due to my increased focus on our literary and spiritual growth.
     In our dream last night, a simple wall separated us.  A few paces down this thin partition was a wide entrance on the right leading into the room where you were busy painting a canvas.  I entered the room and stood by you as you worked, anticipating the tool you needed next, an artist’s spatula, and handed it to you as you reached back for it without taking your gaze off your painting.
     Oh, joy of joys, Honey Bun, you are painting again!  This was your beloved, creative involvement during your physical incarnation with me, until the burst aneurysm resulted in brain damage to the right side of your head and stopped your creative activities for the next twenty years of your physical life.
     And now in the spiritual world you have picked up where you left off!  Joy of joys!  Joy of eternal beingness!  Joy of eternal character of soul!  I cannot find enough words to express my happiness at seeing you so deeply and profoundly engaged in the thing you loved to do most.  You had always been so good at it that it is obviously an inseparable characteristic of your permanent, eternal soul.  Your pure creative soul -- the very essence I fell in love with so many years ago!  I love you immensely!

The Thinking Universe

     Those who say that we humans live in a meaningless universe, and therefore must create our own meaning in the world, fail to consider that they use natural imagination to conceive that idea in the first place.  That natural capacity to use imagination is created inside us by the so-called meaningless, indifferent universe.  The universe we are integrally embedded in produced that capacity within us, whether through evolution, conscious will, or some other means.
     The universe created the human animal and the brain it uses to imagine any and all the theories that the human being creates.   The universe created the human and all of its aspects.  Therefore the universe is ultimately the creator of all the thoughts, ideas, and the very will of human beings and all the meaning they usurp as their own.  The universe created all this meaning by virtue of being the creator of the brain and mouth which gives voice to it -- which is obviously for the pleasure or, if you prefer, the fulfillment of the universe.  The human and his or her words are but a subset, a tiny detail of the much more immense and eloquent universe.
     We forget that we are the product of this universe and anything that comes from us is necessarily by extension a product of the universe, including meaning and flashes of insight and love.

Stripped of All Time Sense

     Permanence is a concept that is dependent upon time.  Therefore the idea of permanent loss is an illusion since time itself is an illusion.  So, we have not lost each other, Chris.  Things have simply changed.  We will adjust to that change as we have always adjusted to changes in our life before this one.
     Maybe our perception of ourselves has changed a little, a fraction.  But there is nothing new about that either.  The love has not changed.  It is as rich and alive as it ever was.  I still feel it strongly and so it must still live as part of us, gravitating our souls into one, which also means that you must still be a part of me, and I of you.  You still live with me although my old physical eyes have temporarily lost sight of you.  But not my heart.  And not my inner awareness.
     Everyone passes through these barren zones between paradigms, so no sweat.  We can do it.  I’ll see you more clearly when I get to where you are now, in that finer, higher vibratory universe interpenetrating this one I am writing in.
     Time.  Time is the phantasm, the momentary nightmare.  Anticipation, longing for the future, crying over the past.  These are evil delusions, self torture created by psychological time.  Only “now” and the continuous discovery of the finer elements in this “now” is worthy of our attention.
     But care must guide us in our attentiveness to this “now.”  Because if we overuse the word “now” we start becoming hypnotized and addicted to a label.  We bind our attention to a preconceived idea, a presumption, an illusion and we still miss the underlying reality – that which is “in” the now, not in the “idea” of the now.  Attention needs to be free of all expectations to focus its own awareness on objects of its own interests, which are ultimately our highest and purest interests.  This is the true present, the true now, stripped of all time sense and prejudiced expectations from our learned biases.

"Philosophers toting PhD's"

    Hi, Christel.  My Love.  Good morning.  It is early, a few minutes before 4:00 AM.

    A headache woke me.  Clogged sinus cavities.  Thunderstorms moved into the area yesterday afternoon, which is when my headache began.  I suppose it is associated with the atmospheric pressure change.

    And the smell associated with the headache.  Ghastly!  I remember the first time I ever smelled this odor.  I was very young.  Seven or eight years old.  It was after my father died when our mother was dating a new fellow, who later became my stepfather.

    He had driven us out into the country to meet his family.  Someone had cooked a batch of greasy homemade pigskins.  I ate them with enthusiasm.  On the drive back home, in the back seat of the hot car, nausea began to overwhelm me.  I lay down on the seat.  Very close to my nose was an open container of axle grease on the floorboard behind the driver's seat.

    The smell.  It was too much.  My nausea erupted into a geyser of vomit.  I don't know if I was sick from the axle grease or the homemade pigskins.  But it overwhelmed me body and soul.  That is a smell I can never forget.  It has returned periodically through the the years in moments of nausea.  And now, it is visiting me once again, arriving with this headache.

    I love you, Honey Bun.  I am sorry if the subject matter this morning worries you.  Please don't let it.  It is just Truth.  The Truth I am dedicated to express.  Being truth, it is spiritual in essence.  I do not know precisely how such a story fits into the cosmos, but obviously it does or else it would not exist.

    I love you, Chris.

LATER:

    I just can’t get rid of this headache today.  I tamed it rather well through meditation but the least little bit of mental activity intensifies it again.  I have been sneezing a lot the past few days, so that is a clue that it is a cold virus or allergy or something.  But maybe those are only symptoms of something emotional or spiritual.

    Honey Bun, I feel that I have been brutal to you in my preoccupation with this social media stuff.  My God, it pulls you in like quicksand!  I am getting back to the book now.  Hopefully it will bring us back into more intimate, loving communication.  

    One problem I have been having with the social media is that I have lately been encountering some of the most shallow and mean spirited pseudo philosophers one would ever want to bump into, online or off.  Some of them are so needlessly and childishly competitive.  They wish only to debate and win some cleverness award.  They want to win competitions of cleverness and logical thinking, logic as copied (and still misunderstood) from sophomoric textbooks.  They know nothing of sharing.  

    If you have a good thought or insight and share it online, most readers will express their glad appreciation for the thought.  And I express mine in return when I read something that is nice and uplifting.  But in a couple of philosophical forums I’ve ventured into lately there seems to be an ever ready horde of vicious readers who attack you and rip your carefully worded thoughts to threads, like a pack of rabid wolves spewing mindless animalistic hatred at you, completely missing the carefully expressed uplifting ideas you offered in good faith and through the use of good grammar and skillful use of language.  

    These few particular people seem poorly educated, self hating, and always seeking alliance with each other -- good sense and truth be damned.  They are just like bands of wild dogs that rush in and nip at you then jump back laughing and glancing left and right at each other, in its small pack of allies, while another dares to jump in next after him to nip and rip at your legs then jump back laughing, quickly glancing around to make sure its pack of allies is still there to protect him if anything goes wrong.

    When I was a very young man, this same thing happened to me in town by the park!  A wandering pack of dogs did this same in and out attack, showing off to each other.

    And at the top of this online heap of human animals, that I am talking about today, are the college degree toters who lead every argument with something like, “Well, I’m studying for my PhD and this is what I have to say about your ideas.”  And then you have to brace yourself for a diatribe.

    Not only is this a perfect example of “Argumentum ad Hominem” in that it judges you to be less intelligent than your conversant, because you do not have a PhD as he does (or happens to be studying for), it also shows his massive conceit and stupidity as well.  This type of “debater” is as repulsive and ultimately as stupid as the less educated horde or the pack of wild dogs.  And worse than that, he is far more cowardly.  He will attack with his lead-in of “I am studying for my PhD and you should now bow to my superior wisdom” -- and then when you prove him wrong on any point he will never acknowledge your presence again, refusing to speak to you under the pretense that it would be beneath his dignity to talk any further with such a hopelessly unteachable non PhD person.  He is really running scared and embarrassed, hiding behind his pretense of superiority to avoid being exposed as the intellectual fraud he knows he is.

    I have experienced entirely too much of this lately, online.  That may be why I am stressed and the stress is manifesting as a nagging headache and cold symptoms.  As I write this, I do feel a little better so maybe that is the main health issue today.  

    I love you, Honey Bun.  Thanks for soapbox.  Proving that you exist is something I never needed to do for myself.  I know you are right here with me in our infinite universe.  But to have to prove it to the above types of ignorant people… well, it is impossible to get an idiot to know something of such worth to know.  As the old saying goes, “Don’t cast your pearls before the swine.”

    Luckily, I have been discovering many beautiful angels online.  Very spiritual and spiritually uplifting souls who are becoming my friends.  I freely and joyfully give them all the pearls I possess.  And they realize this.  And they give as much and more in return.

    See you after a while, My Beautiful Wife!

"On Expressing Truth and Reality"

     No language, no matter how specific you word it, can convey the truth.  Language is based on knowledge.  This knowledge is based on memory.  Memory is a reflection of a past that does not exist, other than in imagination.  Our only reality is in the present.  And no language can describe the present moment, which is moving and changing constantly.  Therefore, if we want to speak of esoteric and deeply philosophical things at all, we must use devices such as poetry, analogy, metaphor, allegory, (letters to a transcended spouse), as well as traditional scientific and philosophical language, etc.  All of these literary devices can and should be used when talking of the important things in life which will survive the temporary human manifestation of our beingness.

"A Short Dialogue"

     I received a reply this morning to a posting I had made in a Google Plus forum a few days ago.  I posted a quote from Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī, a thirteenth century Persian poet.  The following is an account of our brief dialogue, which the quote inspired:

DIALOGUE:

(Quote):  “Take someone who doesn't keep score, who's not looking to be richer, or afraid of losing, who has not the slightest interest even in his own personality: he's free.” ― Rumi

QUESTIONER:  But dose this free person can live a free life  when most of thinking about ruling others with power money and wisdom  ?

MY ANSWER:  Yes, because this person's "spirit" (pure conscious beingness) is free from the rule of his or her unconscious habits and social conditioning. He thinks for himself and does not need others to tell him what to think.  This person is a "whole person" comfortable with who he is, or she is, and so is not conflicted or at war with himself inside his own mind.  This person may have to suffer other tyrants' rules but he is still free to be above their effects on his soul and personal wisdom which is now in tune with the greatest power of all, the whole universe in its pure state -- he is vibrating with the energy of pure existence and being carried by that power like a surfer is carried by a massive wave.

QUESTIONER:  And how many such people you know ? sir 

MY ANSWER:  Very few.  But a growing number of such souls.

QUESTIONER:  there is another question dose we will call such personality natural  ?

MY ANSWER:  Yes.  Such a state of being is our natural state.  But we gradually get pushed out of this pure, free thinking natural state as we grow up from childhood.  Our social education and conditioning is polluted from bad information perpetuated by tyrants and greedy corporate groups and false religious leaders who teach bad information to profit only themselves, not the people they pretend to serve.

     We all need to remember what it was like to see the world with the fresh vision of a child.  And then to have reasonable faith that such vision carries in it much natural, personal wisdom that can guide us the rest of the way home to our natural state of being.

(end of dialogue)

Being Human and Living Divine

“This being human is a guest house. Every morning is a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor...Welcome and entertain them all. Treat each guest honorably. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.”
― Rumi

Context and Meaning

"Giving and Receiving"

I gave a gift to a hungry man.
And thanked him sincerely for his receiving hand.
For how else can spiritual energy flow,
without such acceptance from a receiving soul?
-- James Harold Bath


"Context and Meaning"

One major drawback of our current primitive modes of spoken and written communication is that while we might express the truth in one moment, the constantly metamorphosing of the context of the eternal moment, the eternal now, often makes a lie out of what we said previously. Not in the eternal spiritual essence of love which has a permanence all its own -- but in the eternally transmuting contexts of physical life and the mentality associated with that life.

The problem most of us encounter and suffer cruel consequences over is that it makes us, the author of this or that spoken or written word, appear to be inconsistent when life's continuous change carries us into newer contexts. We seem to contradict our own previous words when we say something that, on the surface level of primitive sticks and stones communication, seemed so true in the first case but now so false in the second case.

What the critics fail to realize is that though the words may be the same, the context has changed. And context is the primary meaning of the words.



A Very Special Dream

JULY 27, 2014 - SPECIAL DREAM!

    Oh, Honey Bun.  You know the dream I am writing about now.  The best ever in my entire life!  You held me and kissed me and soothed me and held me and held me so long, so wonderfully.  Everything was perfect!  We were in our own house (in the dream world).  

    My Love, I am lightly editing this letter which I scribbled during the middle of last night in joyful haste lest I forget any portion of the dream.  I point this out now just to explain the raw hurry of the words.

    You worked in a restaurant, like the one we met at 30 years ago. I wasn't working in this dream.  I was now the dependent, needing your love.  There was a beautiful little girl there with a puppy.  Lots of family around.  My sister Elaine was there in the kitchen.  I was telling her that her kids were so sensitive they could hear a bat’s wings three miles away.  She told me her son was studying to be an astronaut.  

    You held me so much, my Love, so tenderly and reassuringly.  You needed to leave for work about five minutes early to ask someone we both new and had recently spoken with if he had gotten the... the thing... I forget what that was.  But the very essence of the dream, the most important and longest lasting was you and me sitting together with you so very tenderly loving me, touching me, kissing me, holding me, oh I cannot express the joy and love you gave to me.  

    Chris, I love you so very, very much.  I am breathless with this unexpected wonderful deeply felt and experienced love you gave and I gave you back tonight!  In that chair.  In that old warm comfortable cabin.  

    All this after such a blissful day drenched in Shabd, I knowing it meant you were with me.  Every time I thought about you the Shabd Sound Current roared in my inner ears with rich, silky bliss.  All day!  And my writing was infused with confidence, understanding, and joy.

    This day is special.  I did meditate and visualize you in front of me, with me, but it was a spiritual sight not one with physical eyes but with inner eyes.  I saw you and spoke with you throughout this wonderful day.  I refused to let physical memories pull me into the illusion of time.  I stayed in the present with you all day.

    And I bought a homeless man a meal and a large lemon soda water and thanked him for receiving this gift from me because his receiving it was a gift in return to me.  When I returned home yesterday I wrote this little poem:

I gave a gift to a hungry man.  

And thanked him sincerely for his receiving hand.

For how else can spiritual energy flow,

without such acceptance from a receiving soul?

-- James Harold Bath

    And then the dream with you so very precious to end this wonderful day with.  I love you with all of infinity and all of Eternity.  I love you so very much, my wife Christel!

Objectification of the Pure "I"

JULY 25, 2014 - Objectification of the Pure "I"

    Hi, Chris.  I love you.  Good morning.

    It is becoming increasingly difficult to understand the people in this world around me.  I like to think that at least I am learning how to maneuver amongst them unscathed, something like a diver riding the back of a shark, and continuing to stay in the waters but safely away from the shark's teeth.

    Well... anyway.  You and I were together last night in the dream world, the astral realms, or whatever we want to call that place we go when our bodies sleep in the physical state.  Anyway, I remember our visit clearly.  

    I was myself, in soul.  My familiar self.  My pure "I" before I covered it in the objective qualia which creates a self image for the pure "I" to think of itself as being.  An objectification of the pure soul.  A false self in the sense that one's clothes are a false self which he or she puts on to move about in particular places. Different clothes for different environments.

    I lightly edited and posted the above words about “Objectification of the Pure "I" on Google+.

LATER:

    I went to the store to beat the rain and get a few things to carry me through the weekend.  I am back now, Honey Bun.

    As I mentioned to you while walking there, my dream last night was angry and violent.  It is what inspired me to write the above about qualia and false self and objectifying a self over pure soul.  Now, my pure soul loves you, my beloved wife, Christel.  I would give my eternal life if it would make your life better, healthier, and more pleasing for you.  I would give all that I am to make your life truly joyful forever and blessed for eternity.  All good things.  If I could give you that, it would be the greatest of all possible joys for me.  But you know that.  And I know you reciprocate these same feelings back to me.  You and I both share the same “selfless love” which is our shared soul for eternity.

    I do not precisely know why I have occasional violent dreams, the most disturbing of which are the ones with violence directed toward you.  I don’t know exactly why but I can tell you this -- that son of a bitch next door to me always seems to preface these bad dreams with his damned bad behaviour.  I can only suspect that he intentionally sets out to irritate me to the point that the suppressed irritation escapes my subconscious during sleep when my guard is down and sometimes lands on you in our dreams.  You know and I know that I do not feel such hate for you, for any reason.  In the dream last night, the character I was became offended when he thought he had discovered that you had sneaked away from him (me) for five hours to be with another man, and to hide the fact from me.  I was jealous and enraged to discover this.

    I say “I” was jealous.  But even though “I subjectively” looked on while my “objective personality” flew into a rage of anger and violence, this “objective self” was significantly different in ways than my normal objective self.  In other words, even though I identified with the violent person, I never before have been that person.  This is important to note.  If it wasn’t me, yet I was seeing from the inside of the person out, what was going on?  Where did these various new wrappings of qualia come from?  This fellow was tall and slender, looked like he stumbled in filth out from under a moonshine still.  Even his emotions were not my regular emotions.  His thoughts were uneducated and his values were diametrically opposed to my own.

    This has happened several times before when there was an intensification of annoyances coming from that passive-aggressive neighbor next door, who has hated me ever since I demanded that the landlord stop him from staring into our windows.  

    You remember that, Honey Bun.  I was very worried about your well being with a creep like that looking into our windows.

    So I think that maybe these qualia of strange characters trying to wrap themselves around me, in our dreams, are disembodied spirits trying to “possess me” in our dreams.  Most people might find this silly and misguided and pathetic on my part.  In other words, most who read this might think I am delusional, but these dreams of being different characters (of that sort!) have accompanied that neighbor’s abusive behavior toward me enough times for me to give the idea serious consideration.  These creepy souls who have died but want to stay in their old familiar earth lives, from which  they have been torn by their deaths, these lost and desperate souls may have been drawn to the perverted neighbor like magnets to iron, and leached onto him.  And when he is brooding and engaging in unsavory thoughts and practices over there in his apartment, just a thin wall away from where I sleep, those same unsavory souls must be buzzing around like flies at an orgy of bestiality. To put it delicately.

    But, anyway, I don’t think you were hurt by my slapping you in the dream.  You showed no pain.  Also, you might have engineered the scene yourself to brand the memory of our having been together into my consciousness so that the memory would survive my waking back into the physical world.  Like you have done for me many times before.  So it is one of those two things -- either the neighbor’s bad behavior set the stage for my anger or you did yourself to give me the loving reminder of our continued togetherness in this and the higher realms.

    And knowing the more intricate dimensionality of those higher regions, I can believe that both were true and that you could have piggy-backed your message to me as an added dimension to the dimension of the other less attractive events.  Your motivation in doing so might have been to add the spiritual medicine of our love to the wound those lost souls caused in me while they were engaged in possessing the mind of that neighbor and trying to possess mine.  Or something similar; it’s a big universe of possibilities.

    I love you.

EARLY AFTERNOON:

    I stumbled across this quote, Chris.  It is beautiful.  It describes our love for each other like none I seen before (and, believe you me, I have looked!).

"OPINION is really the lowest form of human knowledge.  It requires no accountability, no understanding.  The highest form of knowledge... is EMPATHY, for it requires us to suspend our egos and live in another's world.  It requires profound purpose larger than the self-kind of understanding." - Bill Bullard

 (end quote)

Christel, my wife, I will see you in our dreams... and walks... and talks... and always for eternity!

The Problems with Nomenclature

    "God" is a word.  A necessary word to indicate the indescribable essential irreducible ground of all being; the sine qua non of all that is; the primal energy that creates and sustains all things in the universe including human beings and stars alike.  Different cultures use different words to indicate this fundamental force, to refer to the same indescribable foundation of all being and existence.  This religious nomenclature is always simple like the one word “God” and highly inadequate for intellectual discourse.  

    The problem with that word is that, being a symbol for the “indescribable” foundation of reality, people tend to describe it in countless and varied personal ways of their own, each person adding his or her own unexamined biases to the definition.  This conjures up very fantastic and fairytale like anthropomorphized gods; one example being an old man with long white hair and beard wearing a white robe and carrying a staff, and another example being Zeus wielding a lightning bolt, and yet another example being a four armed god like Vishnu.  These ideas enter into even the most seriously pretentious debates waged between atheists and theists.  Such fairytale representations stand as visual symbols for a description of the primal essence of all matter and consciousness!

    No reasonable debate can even get off the ground when such definitions seep their way into the discourse, because they are conversation stoppers which atheists and philosophical materialists wield like clubs.  And who can blame them?  But if all participants in a debate could redefine the term "God" to a more realistic definition like “the indescribable essential irreducible essence of all things”, well then the conversation could at least advance to a higher level.

Reality of Imagination

JULY 21, 2014   MONDAY MORNING - Reality of Imagination

    Good morning, Honey Bun.  We were together during the night.  I was driving a classic convertible, owned by us in the dreams.  Busy activity and lots of people.  Much of the setting was outdoors in a kind of frontier town like one you might find in the mountains of Oregon in the old west.  The town was being constructed and dirt was upturned everywhere.  At this point there were no cars at all in sight and you and I were standing to the side of large mounds of dirt that would eventually be leveled to become the new town’s main road.

    I remember spending the bulk of my time with you at my side; or me at your side, a distinction depending only on which of us was making our decisions for us at any particular moment.  We were not giggly and immaturely happy but satisfied and industrious and relying upon each other with unquestioned and unnoticed faith in each other.  The perfect married couple we have become through the course of our experiences in the physical incarnation and continued in this transcendent astral or dream period.  The soul mate couple, a oneness with the two aspects of feminine and masculine.  Four arms, four legs, two heads, two bodies. The unified being sharing two bodies as if they were right and left hands of one soul, two bodies formed of selfless love at once belonging to the universal infinite and to the individualized finite eternal soul born from that infinity.

    Consciousness individuated into form to participate in a world it imagined into reality.

    This is a good place in this missive to interject the truth that whatever can be imagined has true reality.  The world of imagination is the real world, whether we imagine sublime things or gross things, peaceful things or violent things.  All realities find their ways into form via belief, by the choice of belief that consciousness chooses to create and become involved in.  This is the essence of the dream worlds, the lower of which is the so-called physical world.  The philosophical "thing in itself" is always a thing of imagination just as much as the sense representations and ideas and qualia populating our conscious minds are.

    We know and create the world only through our minds.  This can easily be proved simply by changing our mental furniture, replacing our thoughts with other thoughts and watch the miraculous changes occur.  

Cosmic Soul Explorers

JULY 12, 2014   SATURDAY MORNING - Cosmic Soul Explorers

    Hi, Honey Bun.  I love you.  Shabd is rich and loud in my ear as I write this.

    I must say that ever since our dream of the night before last, when you voiced your fear that I was not paying attention to you, I have worried about you.  God forbid you feel alone and abandoned.  I would give my soul  for you to be happy.  Anyway, I have been consciously trying to keep you up front in my thoughts even while I am attending to other things.  I want to keep us together always as soul mates passing through our many and various incarnations.

    This presents some difficulty as it tends to split my attention at times.  For instance, I believe it is very important for us both that I engage often and deeply in Shabd Sound and Light meditation.  The benefits seem undeniable in that the Cosmic sound sweeps me away into a universe of sound and light, a realm of deep bliss well beyond the physical world.

    But I need to know if you are part of my blissful experience when I go into these deeply penetrating meditations.  It is not so easy to know, for the experience goes beyond imagery and duality.  There is only the rushing light and sound of Shabd.  There is no me either in this blissful Shabd sound and silvery light.  It is extremely real, deeply felt and rewarding, healing and penetrating but so beyond things human that even I, as a separate self, do not actually exist in the experience of it.  I suppose it is like a paradox.  I exist more as one with it, without a separation in consciousness from it.  That is, I become an experiencing subjective consciousness, without any objective self focus, when enjoying the bliss of Shabd.  And I exist vibrantly, knowingly, more alive and joyful than in any other conscious state.

    Our physical life together was one of sharing love, receiving and giving love, having it flow back and forth, always concerned about the needs and happiness of each other.  This love we have known for more than three decades.  It is painful and joyful in many ways, and always deeply rewarding.  It’s a roller coaster of spiritual feelings incarnated into crusty, heavy matter.

    Now one of us has led the way into the immaterial spiritual realms.  You.  And you await me there.  You visit me in dreams and spirit while I am still here in the material realm.

    I believe our love, Christel, is such a shared oneness that it bridges our worlds and you are experiencing the same vibrating joy and bliss in complete penetration and union with me, while I am engaged in Shabd meditation.  But my mental faculties, the imaging parts of my mind, produce no pictures or other images of us or any other thing, for that matter, during these special sound and light excursions.  We simply become the rushing river of silvery light and sound together.  Indeed, this light is not an image but a direct perception, a deep feeling which seems to be experienced by every individual atom in my body and experienced in total as a vast vibration and a sound of primal source in the universe.  

    I believe you are equally fused with me in this experience beyond the physical and the mental, but doubts and concerns sometimes creep into the meditative state making me fear that I might be leaving you behind.  I don’t even want to go to Heaven or Nirvana or any other metaphorical or real bona fide paradise if it means leaving you behind, Honey Bun.  That would be the worst of Hells for me.  So I picture you in my imagination to hold onto you as I plunge deeper into the sound current.  

    And there is the rub.  At that point, my oneness of consciousness splits into “myself being a subject” trying to find “you being an object” of my search, all this taking place in my imagination faculties while I am attempting to go deeper the oneness of Shabd.  This is deeper than the imagination level.  Consequently, the images of you as my object of focus while I seek to stay immersed in the river of Shabd, these images act as a buoy keeping me in the shallows of Shabd.

    So, Honey Bun, imagination cannot be a viable approach even though I believe it is viable throughout the day when I am engaged in more physical and practical concerns and find myself more often in fragmented states of consciousness than in whole continuous states like those of immersion in the sound and light of Shabd.  It is good to use imagery of you to bring you into focus, to raise an antenna as it were, to connect and communicate with you.  I have been doing this regularly every since the sad dream of my not paying attention to you.  And even long before that dream.  It is working.  But such image making seems to be mental tools better left behind or holstered while Shabd meditation is taking place.

    I believe you are sharing fully and equally these sound current meditations with me, as we are one shared soul in one selfless love.  So I am not too concerned that you are suffering or being abandoned even for a moment at such times.  I really just wanted to express this state of affairs and try to understand it better so that we can enter more deeply into Shabd meditation without having to split our attention while the meditation is happening.  The experience is necessary for our health and grace and harmony with the whole created universe.  So my voicing the subject here is not a trivial matter to anybody practicing this form of meditation.

    I have mentioned the strong connection between the Shabd sound and my communications with you in the letters and on walks many time before. But during my brief morning walk, during which Shabd became more audible as I mentally and emotionally finessed awareness of you more deeply into my consciousness, I realized that you and Shabd are often hand in hand in my experience.  Where thoughts of you are, Shabd becomes more audible.  Where Shabd becomes more audible, thoughts of you enter my mind.  

    So those fears I expressed earlier this morning, are pretty much mute as of this rewrite of this letter now.  But I want to include those earlier concerns in this final draft because they were real experiences on the road to exploring details of our infinite and eternal lives.  Just because such explorations often begin in this dinky little apartment, in the heart and mind of this eccentric little old man, doesn’t mean they are not useful to some other explorers who are left to their own wits to find their own realities.  They wisely refuse to accept the status quo beliefs about physical reality and beyond just because of peer pressure.  They seek their own, unique understanding of things.  Just like you and I have always done, my Love.

    People give up too easy when it comes to the beyond.  So these letters are like the journals of Ferdinand Magellan, Christopher Columbus, Lewis and Clark, and all the other explorers of planet Earth in days gone by.  Just because these letters record experiences in the realms of conscious life beyond the physical, in eternity and infinity, it doesn’t mean the recording of the exploration of these more esoteric vistas are not useful records to interested readers coming behind us.

    I love you, Honey Bun.  Keep the porch light on.

Matching Socks in Time

JULY 11, 2014 - “Matching Socks in Time”

    Good morning, Christel My love.  It was a nice dream.  You had our new house so well arranged.  So many nice spots and tidy corners, lamps and windows.  A very nice place indeed.

    I know you were happy and I was too.  All of our joy was of the old sharing kind that sustained us all through our lives so far, material and spiritual.  Our dream last night, our home in the dream, was finished but for one thing.  That settling in, the graceful landing of the dust of love in all the corners and empty places, the settling in of our continued togetherness which defines us uniquely, the final touch of perfection which is coming to be.  The dust of love and us and our eternal companionship, our married self, in that lovely place you have prepared for us.

    I know that near the end of this beautiful dream, which I count as our real world, I became anxious and frustrated because I could not find a matching sock to the one I had on my right foot.  I thought I needed to put it on before we left to go somewhere.  Time was running out and that feeling of diminishing time was the source of my growing frustration.  My strong desire was to hurry up so that I could catch up with you.  You were waiting for me near the door.  I needed to find the sock.  I looked under furniture and behind things mounting anxiety.

    Time was running out.

    My frustration intensified then I noticed that the very sock I had been looking for was already on my foot, my left foot.  But this did not relieve the frustration.  It just halted the search.  There might still be something to do.  I needed to process the information.  There was more.  I needed my shoes.  Where were they?

    Where!

    The next thing I was conscious of was standing in front of you and you were saying, "You never pay attention to me anymore!"

    What!  

    How dare you say something like that?  All my frustration had blazed with furious desire to be with you.  How could you say I never paid attention to you anymore?

    I became so angry, so intensely frustrated over the idea that you would think such a thing.  Now I felt laden with the added weight and time consuming necessity to stop my mad hurrying to be with you just to pacify you because you can't see that everything about me is dedicated to making you happy.  I love you more dearly than anything in this universe.  How could you think I am not paying attention to you?  That is all I have been doing!

    Or is it?  

    Maybe you are right, my dear love.  Maybe I only think I have been paying attention to you.  Maybe I have only been paying attention to the “hurry to get myself into a position” in which I could pay loving attention to you.  And by hurrying I have been building a wall of separation between us.  I have been unconsciously feeding the illusions of time and space, that separate us, the very energy I was using to rid us of them.  Fighting time and space was only feeding them the energy I was fighting them with, in effect making them grow stronger and more self-fulfilling.  I have been fighting them on their own turf, the temporal world of illusion.

    You have always, as long as I’ve known you in any world, encouraged me to relax and let things go, at least for a while to let them and myself be for a period of peace so that I could see more clearly what is.  And I believe now, at this writing, that this encouragement to relax and calm down my haste is what you wanted me to carry away with me out of our dream experience last night, to help me through the remainder of my duties here in this temporal illusory world I write from in this very moment.

    At this point, when this realization began dawning in my mind, I came back into the so-called waking state of physical existence.  I hope I did not cause you distress with my outburst of emotion and frustration.  My reason and knowledge of your innate wisdom tells me that I did not, that you had played a conscious role in actually bringing out the suppressed frustration inside me so that I could learn a few specific things about our current natural state of crossing over into the next life.  I don’t think I hurt you deeply with my outburst of anger and frustration, if I  hurt you at all, because I don’t think there is that much of ying-yang swings of polarities of emotional feelings in those higher realms.  They belong primarily to the physical.  And last night they sure enough jerked me back into the physical dimension.

    I love you dearly and forever, Honey Bun.  This much I know with certainty.  And I know with the same certainty that you love me.  It is built into the being of our eternal souls.

LATER:

    We had a walk, I in body and you in spirit, and we meditated under the freeway overpass.  The cars and trucks, the bicycles and pedestrians, the birds and sky all circling the asphalt lanes and ramps like joy rides at a fair, while the music of Shabd filled our ears with bliss and peace.  

    I love you, my dear wife.  Let’s listen some more.  It is so very nice and rich today.