Introduction

INTRODUCTION:

    These journal documents are my Swan Song.  I claim no perfection about them.  They are neither perfectly right nor perfectly wrong.  But they are perfectly mine.  It is my sincere hope that, by writing them and leaving them available for other curious souls to peruse, God will allow me to return to the arms of my beloved wife Christel, who transcended this physical realm January 28, 2013.

    All I want is to reunite with my wife.  The only reason I don’t kill my body to speed our reunion is the fear that such a desperate act might create karmic problems that will actually delay our souls getting back together.  So, in a way, these journal entries are a record of my journey back to her.  Just because I am still stuck in the physical for now, it doesn’t mean I am not diligently working toward that end every hour of every day of this remainder of my own life.

James Bath

Follow the link below for my journal entries:
Bridge to Eternity

January 23, 2014

JANUARY 23, 2014   THURSDAY MORNING

    Hi, Honey Bun.  I love you and good morning!  I will try to walk to the store for bread, margarine, and a few things today because, even at a high temperature of 48 degrees predicted for today, it is a warmer day than yesterday and what is predicted for tomorrow.  So, I had better get this done today.

    Yesterday was very spiritual, meditative, quiet and studious.  I wanted to do more writing and blogging today but this walk to the store might fatigue me to the point where this is an unrealistic hope.  But one never knows...

    I am very much enjoying reading George Berkeley's philosophical thoughts in his A Treatise Concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge.  One must be careful with him though because he used words like "without" in the archaic sense, to mean "outside" the mind -- not the way we use it today, to mean "in the absence of" the mind.  

    I love you.  Our Bridge to Eternity is getting stronger and safer and truer.  See you soon!

    Honey Bun, a philosophical note if I may:  Some confusion might arise when reading a text like Berkeley’s if the reader thinks of "outside the mind" as meaning outside the body.  I think it helpful in this case to remember that the body itself is present in consciousness as "idea" and as far as our direct experience goes it exists nowhere else but in consciousness, and there seems to be no proof to the contrary since all proof must be presented to our consciousness as ideas.  (This, by the way, adds support to the occasionally expressed idea that "The body does not contain the soul.  But the soul contains the body.")

    Sorry if I seem dry at the moment.  But you know me, my Love.  This is how I often act in writer mode.  I think it is because of the need to be extra attentive to the techniques of framing and communicating thoughts into written language.  Especially a serious subject like the one expressed above.

    By the way, Berkeley’s metaphysical theories of idealism and immaterialism fit well into my beliefs that the dream world, where you and I meet during most nights while my body lies dormant in so-called physical sleep, is a real world.  It is at least as real and very likely far more real than the so-called physical world that we all leave behind, eventually, when we transcend its temporal illusion and return to the greater permanence and reality of the dream or astral or eternal regions of pure immaterial spirit and soul.

    I know it is a mouthful.  But you know what I am saying.

    I love you, Chris.  I will see you later.

ADDENDUM AFTERNOON:

    Honey Bun, reading again in Berkeley’s book after I got home from the grocery store, I highlighted the following quote from Section 25:  “All our ideas, sensations, notions, or the things which we perceive, by whatsoever names they may be distinguished, are visibly inactive -- there is nothing of power or agency included in them.  So the ONE IDEA or object of thought CANNOT PRODUCE or make ANY ALTERATION IN ANOTHER.”

    Okay, Christel, I reproduced this quote here as a kind of preface to a note I was inspired to write in connection with it when I read the passage.  Hopefully my note, by itself, will explain why I wanted to record it here.  Here is mine:  “This Berkeley quote gives good support to the belief that the intelligent soul is superior and independent to thought but uses thoughts and ideas for purposes of its own choosing wherever and whenever it sees fit.  It probably has many other materials besides the contents of mind at its (our) disposal to think with or do some sort of analogous act like thinking.  Perhaps we, in our soul bodies with our spirit minds, use weather systems and rainbows, abstract images and colors, animal migrations and solar systems and galaxies, and all other available things as the materials for the signs and symbols of thought, and other bits and pieces of our infinite universe that we can’t imagine at all as mere human animals who use a much more limited form of thought until (we) become free of our physical bodies and ascend into the higher regions of eternal consciousness to the kind of thinking which is natural there and orders of magnitude above human.”

    Honey Bun, this basic kind of thinking within myself is not entirely new to me but this note I just wrote above is probably the clearest I have been able to make it to myself so far.  There is such vast territory opening up here to my tiny mind that it is slow mining to dig up not only the right language to express it in but the right thoughts to think it in.  My thoughts on this subject, this leap in consciousness, this greater than human thinking, though not new to me they are still in an embryonic stage of my understanding.  Someone else might know a whole lot more, which is why I need to keep perusing the texts written across the ages.  But it might turn out to be that the idea is stillborn, dead on arrival, when I get the ideas developed more in my own mind.

    But call it instinct or a priori insight or dawning revelation or whatever, I have a strong sense of positive feeling about it.  As a matter of fact, I think a lot of the miraculous coincidences we human beings experience -- the strikes of sudden unexpected good fortune and momentous new ideas or surprising answers to plaguing problems -- are produced by this super thinking which I believe you, My Darling Wife, are now using or learning to use in the higher realms, now that you are not encumbered by the consciousness anchoring effect of a heavy physical body anymore, but are now enjoying the buoyancy of a spirit or soul body free of countless limitations belonging to your old temporal world body.

    Anyway, my dearest precious love, I thought I would run this past you and see what may or may not come of it.  I suspect I am halfway up a good road and halfway down a stupid road.  We must turn over the rocks as we come upon them and see if there is anything of value under them as we continue down our various roads and byways to look and explore for answers to the eternal questions of our lives.

    I love you, so very, very much, Christel.  See you soon.  This sojourn here in the physical cannot last forever.  It is temporary, as you know.  As all souls come to know.

     Kisses my Love.  (Hugs, too).

January 20, 2014

JANUARY 20, 2014   MONDAY MORNING

    Brand new day, Honey Bun.  I love you immensely and Good Morning, my Dear, Beloved Soulmate!   My strict reclusiveness is over.  I am now coming out of my proverbial cave (apartment).  I am opening the blinds and will begin to walk laps around the the compound once again.  

    This decision came as a surprise this morning.  It is directly due to the neighbors, Rmd and his girlfriend, renewing their efforts to harass me with noise through the wall which divides our apartments.  They know this kind of harassment is invisible to everybody else, especially the landlord.  So they think I have no defense, no proof that they are doing it.  And they have been emboldened lately by the landlord’s increased employment of Rmd and flattery to him as well as by the fact that the landlord gave Rmd’s girlfriend his deceased cousin’s perfectly good pickup truck to replace her old defunct one.  Or perhaps sold it to her on easy terms, I would suspect.

    Now they both feel special due to this special attention from the landlord.  And they feel emboldened, that this gives them an invulnerable edge over me in any conflict between us.  They have also misinterpreted my reclusiveness as cowering away behind closed door and windows in the dark, weak and afraid of them.  So they feel they have me on the run and that just a little more pushing will finally push me out of the apartment complex once and for all.

    They would not let well enough alone.  They would not let me explore my inner spiritual life and destiny in peace.  They would not let me live quietly in the reclusive privacy of this little apartment, working behind closed doors toward my reunion with you, Honey Bun, and our eternal life together.  

    They have no understanding of such things.  They are ignorant, self-centered, self-serving uneducated mean little people who have no refinement of thoughts or ambitions.  They think and spend their time exclusively for sex, drinking, and drugs.  They hate people like me and you because they fear us and do not understand why.  The reason probably includes the fact that their efforts to destroy us, to ruin us in any way they can, to get rid of us, constantly fail and by failing reveal to themselves one surprising weakness of character after another that they didn't realized they possessed.

    So now that they are once again stepping up their efforts to harass me, it is time for me to show myself again, clearly, and unquestionably visible as I walk my laps around the compound and use the laundry facilities and sit outside writing and working on the final touches of my our legacy.  It hardly matters where I am at this time, it certainly doesn't matter in the world of our eternally living soul, our eternal reality.  So be it.

    I love you, my darling wife Chris.  See you soon.

LATER MORNING:

    Chris, I opened the window blinds and put the little table and chair outside again.  The color of the light pouring back into this little apartment overwhelmed me with memories of you and of our old life together here in this apartment complex.  That life now gone.  Gone for a fucking year already!  I discover now that I still hurt with the same god damned intensity I hurt with a year ago!  Damn it all to hell!

    I went for a walk around the circular driveway.  I made the better part of ten laps in the cold morning air.  The walk itself, around and around and around the same old circular drive, brought back unbearable memories of infinite loss, the infinitely painful loss of you.  It is deeply unbearable.  The tears and sobs are flooding from me as I write this.  I hope to God this pain is useless, unneeded, and meaningless.  I hope this pain belongs only to illusion and that real life belongs to you, to us.

    Reality must include us.  We must belong to reality.  The illusion, the bad dream, must be where these tears belong.  If I exist enough to write this -- whether in a dream or in reality -- if I exist at all, either as illusion or as a real thing, it is proof that you and I did indeed exist together in some way.  And if we did indeed exist together and I, as part of that past existence, still do indeed exist (as I obviously do since I am typing these desperate words) then you must still exist.  Wait!  Don’t give up on this thought!  

    I existed then and I still do now.  Since you were a part of me then, in my heart and in my mind and in my love, you must still exist if I still exist.  A half of a horse or anything else will not continue to exist after one half of itself has been taken away and stopped existing.  Even if half of the horse seems to have stopped existing because one half of it has been covered up and hidden from sight by a blanket or by a magician’s trick, the true horse still continues to exist if either half of it still exists.  If not, the half we see would die before our very eyes because of its dependence on both its halves for its whole to live.  

    But I, personally, as half of the love creature called “Jimmy and Chris” have not died.  I am still visible to myself and to other people.  Therefore it stands to reason that you are not dead, Chris!  You still exist, my dear woman!  My dear, dear wife Christel!  You must!  If I do, you do!  We cannot be either one half or the other.  We have to be the whole thing or nothing at all.  And since indeed I do exist, you simply just must be hidden from sight by an otherworldly blanket or magicians trick or divine nature or act of our soul’s evolution, or something like that.  

    Surely we will become visible to each other again when the temporary veil hiding you from my sight is lifted.  This veil may very well be in my own mind, an illusion, which I continue to seek a way to remove from blocking my view. When I remove this confusion, then we shall remember our wholeness, return, embrace again, and hold each other in infinite love and joy for eternity.

    Thanks, Honey Bun.  Thanks for helping me feel much, much better after writing the above words.  I do not think it would have been possible for these words and the love they contain to flow and wash away from me and empty me of the profound grief I was feeling just a few minutes ago, I don’t think this would have been possible without the natural recipient for the words to receive them.  They needed their rightful channel to flow into.  You! It shows, proves, that the polarity which completes me as a living thing is still alive and receiving my energy through you and therefore still existing.  

    You are the polar matching polarity for the polarity that I am in the soul called “Jimmy and Chris.”  That means you are still existing, Chris, whether my physical eyes and other physical senses can perceive you at this moment or not, in our eternity together.  And this very excellent proof fills me with joyful hope and happy anticipation for the approaching future when I will be fully conscious of your continued presence in my life again.

    I love you so much.  Thanks for being with me when I need you like this.  See you soon!

Spiritual Hug

    Thank you, precious wife for the huge spiritual hug and immersion in your Shabd bliss.  We had a good laugh of joy, did we not?  I see now that like the illusion of time, the illusion of self is a very limited linear consciousness.  The true self, as you just showed me, is concurrent, parallel, multidimensional, and includes much more than the body alone.  The hug you gave me, the full rich consciousness of your whole self included the environment in which your body was but a detail, a small part of the real, the ultra real you, the full experience of Chris.  And all of you and I embraced in a timeless wrap of intelligent, knowing love.  

You were more you than ever before.  You were your art, our mountains, your sacrifices to me and mine to you, you were my familiar wife Christel times infinity!  This spiritual hug of love and emotion was all in the now without the word now, without the idea of now, without any intimations of time.  It just was a full enveloping experience of you from our first meeting to now, the real you, all of you, the eyes, sky, intimate talks, pleasant work and play, through all the years and yards and miles of our life together, multidimensional and above the illusion of time and linearity.  This was a wonderfully enlightening hug of emotion, love, laughter, and joy, and faith in our beautiful future forever, Honey Bun.  

Thank you!  I love you so much!

January 11, 2014

JANUARY 11, 2014   SATURDAY MORNING

    Good morning, Sweety Pie.  I had a nice time with you last night.  

    Our dream meeting was in Charleston, but a higher quality Charleston from what we've known before.  Maybe the increase in quality was due to it being an astral version of us and Charleston. Anyway, you and I were standing together in a picturesque marshy area thinking of how beautiful the panorama was.  The buildings in our view were few and far away, beyond the marsh and harbor.  We were alone.

    My arm was around your shoulders.  I said, “Not a bad place to settle, is it?”

    You were admiring the sight and enjoying it.  Something in your silence, though, made me think you did not share my observation about it being a final place to settle in.  This did not matter to me because I had really only tossed those words out rhetorically, knowing full well that infinity is where any settlement is to be and we were already in infinity.

    You smiled and mentioned a nearby grove of pear trees and other edible fruits and vegetation.  People could survive nicely from these simple gifts of the earth.

    I asked you if you would like to visit Asheville again.  As I said this I realized that we could never recapture those days.  They are part of the illusory past now.  So I quickly added, “At least go there to eat in a restaurant in a familiar place, then do what comes natural after that.”

    You nodded affirmatively and joked lightly saying, “We can call our order into many places at once and go to the one who finishes our order first.”

    I really don’t know what you meant by that joke but will think about it during a free moment.  I think it probably is pregnant with meaning, as is often the case with what you communicate.

    You were so gorgeous in this dream, Honey Bun.  We were both young and healthy.  A great experience.

    I love you.

    Honey Bun, I need to wedge work into my schedule, right now, in the construction of our blog.  Stay with me if you wish while I do so.  I feel that we’re usually in very close contact with each other anyway.  Being soul mates and sharing so much love, that’s an understatement.  And now, let me get to the work…

January 10, 2014

JANUARY 10, 2014   FRIDAY MORNING

    Christel, my Love, you were with me in the dream worlds, the etheric realms, last night.  Thank you, Honey Bun, it is always such a boost for me when we are together like this, as well as a confirmation for my belief that we are together for eternity.

    I do realize and continue to deepen my awareness of the extra dimensions we have and use in these higher modes of living.  This higher world is certainly not the sluggish, dull, narrowly constricted physical world we leave behind us at the time of so-called death of the physical body.

    I scribbled some notes after an especially nice session with you in the higher realms last night.  You were driving me through beautiful vistas in a spacious coastal community.  The high banks along the wide river were bathed in waist high grass and soft breezes.  This landscape was more European in texture than American.  It was ancient and new at the same time and more beautiful than anything in the physical world.  We often meet in lovely open places like this.

    You were driving me, for lack of better words, on a bicycle.  I was the passenger on the front of the bicycle.  The spring like air caressed my skin as you happily pedaled us forward along the green hills and river banks.  

    The dream experience was multidimensional in expression of our beingness.  This is hard to describe so please bear with me.  I was driving you on a motorized bike in the same place and at the same time you were carrying me on the foot powered bicycle.  We were two experiences occupying the same space and time, and unified as our single soul mate, “us”, through it all.  This multiple expression of our togetherness was natural and noticed by me only incidentally when my consciousness began to translate the higher dreamworld experience into the limited framework of physical life language and cognition when I neared the physical waking consciousness.

    You had the air about you of a wise and ancient soul, young in form, around 30 years old, but ancient in wisdom and soul.  You asked me if I was hung over.  This question came, I believe, front the persistent headache pain I have been suffering lately in the physical world.  You said we'll look into that now and continued pedaling me forward.

    Speaking of headaches, Honey Bun, I'm being bothered by one now.  I have more to say on this subject later but for now I want to close my eyes and meditate for a while, then perhaps take advantage of the mild weather and get some walking exercise in.  I feel that I have gained five or more pounds over the past couple of weeks which makes me feel sluggish and less healthy.

    I love you so much.  I will see you soon.

ADDENDUM:

    Hi, Chris.  I went for a short walk, came back and meditated for an hour and a half. There was a dual nature to this meditation, Shabd sound current (very rich and silvery and ringing today) and, I believe, a pensive drifting contemplation of various subjects the specifics of which escape my recollection at this moment.

    I wanted to mention earlier, before my walk and meditation, but could not deal with it due to my mounting headache pain, was that there was another segment of dream last night that seems entirely worth noting.  Some young man was showing me a pane of crystal glass, which he had created as an artist.  

    This pain was about 18 inches long and 12 inches wide. Studying the length of it from one end to the other, he pointed out to me the different facets and aspects that he put into the rich glass.  One area was bright, clear and blueish, and a little over from that was a section in which he had embedded delicate filaments of silvery threads.  And on down from there were sections where the pure clarity of the crystal was muddied a little, as if by fine furry images.  This part did not appeal to me because it looked like the grayish brown found on some mushrooms.

    These words are clumsy, and the memories they are attempting to describe even clumsier.  I don't think I can put my vague thoughts into more fitting words at the moment.  But I suspect that you or some other higher dimensional soul was giving me a message, embodying it in the symbol of the crystal pane and its multiple facets.  That message might have been that you, my beloved wife, Christel, now have available to your self many more facets and aspects by which to express yourself to me, due to the multiplied dimensions of your newly transcended soul.  You are no longer bound to the clay prison of physical life and its comparatively limited means of expression.  

    Message received if that was your intention, Honey Bun.  I realize that I am an ant and you are an elephant now, as far as expansions in consciousness and dimensionality goes.  But I also believe you and I still share our little "Jimmy and Chris"-ness.  And one day soon, I will open my wings too, when I expand into those wonderful new dimensions you have found.  And then, Girl, I'm gonna give you a hug that brightens the heavens with a new supernova explosion!

    You wait and see!

ADDENDUM  SECUNDUS:

    Well, my Darling, I might be handed a ticket home to you in the form of spinal meningitis.  You know I have been complaining about my persistent nasal drainage, almost exclusively from the back of my right nostril.  Well, I caught a glimpse of a news report on TV about a rare and sometimes deadly condition called "Cerebrospinal fluid rhinorrhoea."

    Briefly, the report was about a woman who suffered constant leakage of clear fluid from one nostril for years.  She always had to blow her nose.   And every time she learned over to pick something up, the fluid poured from her nose as if a faucet had been turned on, or so her doctor said describing her symptoms.  They tried allergy medicines to no avail.  

    The doctor finally used a scope up her nose and discovered a section of her brain the size of the tip of his index finger had pushed through a small hole or rupture in her sinus cavity and was exposed there, at the back of her sinus cavity.  From that hole also poured the continuous flow of spinal fluid but the fluid was not obvious to me from the video.  So maybe the faucet simile was too much of an exaggeration.  The report also mentioned that the brain naturally produces 17 ounces of cerebrospinal fluid each day, so this could be a never ending problem for anyone suffering this condition.

    The doctor said that since noses are home to so much bacteria, he could not simply push the small section of brain back up inside the skull because it would drag bacteria with it and thereby infect the brain with disease and she would likely end up with a fatal infection of meningitis.  She might die.  Many do.  So they cut the exposed brain away then used cadaver bone and mucosal lining and tissue glue to plug the hole.  Which, of course, required surgery.

    The article I read said the condition is rare but can be fatal.  The causes of this condition are, according to the article, caused by a small tear or hole in the membrane surrounding the brain, resulting from head injury, or complications from surgery or high pressure in the skull (intracranial pressure).

    Well, Chris, remember that sinus surgery I had a few years ago?  I do not remember having to put up with this virtually constant mucus draining down my throat before I had that surgery.  But after it, this problem has been increasing steadily.  It’s pretty much a daily experience now, often lasting all day and night long.  And neither do I remember these headaches before then, except for many years ago, decades ago.  But ever since I got my blood pressure in check I have been totally free of headaches.  Until, that is, after the sinus surgery to cut the polyps out of my nose.

    There are more details to all of this but the message is clear.  This condition might end the life of my body.  No loss.  It has to end some day anyway.  Then pucker up, Baby!  I'm gonna plant a big kiss on you when I get to you!  A giant multidimensional kiss.

    But, I am realistic enough to consider that my mucus and headache problems just might be caused by allergies to house dust and tree pollen.  In which case there is always the bridge to jump from.

    I love you, my beloved wife.  I'll see you soon, I trust!

January 09, 2014

JANUARY 09, 2014   THURSDAY MORNING

    Good morning, my Love.  I am sluggish this morning.  There was another noise battle last night with Rmd and his girlfriend in 104.

    I had seen him riding around with our landlord yesterday, both of them getting out of the landlord's and walking with the attitude of two men at work.  They went into the laundry building for a few minutes then came back out and drove away from the premises.  But while they were still here, Rmd glanced over this way from near the laundry building a few times, as if to see if I were looking at him.  I mention this not because it made any special significance to me at the time, for I have long known the landlord employs him occasionally to help with certain jobs, but I did wonder why he would look over in my direction several times.  

    Then last night when Rmd's girlfriend came to spend the night with him, he stepped up the noise of his television and his nasally bass speaking voice.  I think he did this because he felt emboldened by the fact that his working relationship with the landlord was visible to me yesterday when the two of them had been working in the laundry room and that this closeness to the landlord proved, in Rmd’s childish mind, that he had higher authority than I in this apartment complex.  After all, to him I am just a mere renter while he enjoys the attention of the Landlord King and therefore he is better than I and I, in turn, should succumb to his superiority.  Raising his noise level last night seemed to be his way of punctuating this idea.

    But I blasted him and his girlfriend back with more noise than they gave me and for many relentless hours deep into the night as well.  As the famous fictional character Barney Fife said, "Nip it!  Nip it in the bud!"

    I love you, Honey Bun.

January 04, 2014

JANUARY 04, 2014   SATURDAY MORNING

    Hi, Honey Bun.  I love you and good morning.  I was glad to see you in our dream last night.  Again, I've lost most of the details.  But what I have retained seems relevant to yesterday's discussion with you.  In the dream, I was holding you up, supporting you while you were having an  unintentional bowel movement into your absorbent disposable underwear, one of those few surprising poopoos which sometimes happened before you could make it to the toilet and get your pants down in time.  

    These were always loving moments for me and you because they allowed us to share the loving act of care.  You gave to me your trust in the belief that I love you and we both found great joy and spiritual wisdom in the love.  And I gave to you my physical strength and ever deepening love  while you gave yourself to me as a necessary receptacle for that love, so that it could flow and increase our souls from into Eternity.

    While behaving as natural and casual as I could to keep you from feeling badly about your little accident, I was losing my physical strength holding you upright by your left arm and shoulder.  I began to falter, to lean to my left because of your weight against me.

    The next thing I knew was that you had  finished your business and was walking away perfectly healthy and trim in your jeans which were completely clean.

    Thank you, my Darling Love.  I take this dream segment to be a direct and living message to me that you are fine now in our new life in our real, eternal home and that you are completely healed of those old physical handicaps and that I no longer need to worry about them.  They are past.  The present is filled with strength and love for us and within us.  Your love and appreciation for me is apparent in the message, Honey Bun.  And your eternal dedication and availability to me are equally apparent.

    I love you forever!  See you soon.

January 03, 2014

JANUARY 03, 2014   FRIDAY MORNING

    I love you, Chris.  Good morning.

    I am thinking about figure-ground psychology.  Each day it seems to take more shape in my mind.  I suspect that by understanding the principles of this mode of perceiving, we can understand the workings of consciousness a lot better.  And mystically or religiously speaking, involving eternal life and death of the conscious soul which is key to my interest in the subject, I hope to find very important insights or revelations.

    As long as I remain a  personal consciousness seeking my missing, cherished and beloved soul mate, you Christel, I am in emotional agony.  This must be wrong to hurt like this, unless there is truly a hell and I am doomed to suffer in it.  But I don't think there is truly a hell.  I think there is instead a misapprehension of reality, a misperception and comprehension that, I hope, the psychology behind figure-ground perception will help clear up.

    I love you so much, Chris.  I miss you and worry about you to agonizing intensities.  This agony seems to grow with time.  Even if time is an illusion, and perhaps because it is only illusion, much like a nightmare is an illusion, it seems to make me miss you more.  But maybe I have simply suppressed the worst of the initial shock of your physical death and that if I should again experience it in its full terrible strength now, today, I would say that my emotional pain has not after all increased but decreased over this past year.

    But I am so tortured by the grief now, these days, that it seems to take up all of my awareness… all my perception of life… which, as I write this sentence now, seems a good possible example of the figure-ground perception psychology I am talking about.

    At any rate, Honey Bun, I do not think that my emotional agony is doing you or myself any good.  So I am constantly seeking paths into your waiting arms, which will end the agony of not knowing your soul’s current state of being.  This figure-ground perception, in this regard, is intriguingly hopeful.  Sight of you and direct personal communication might be a simple flip of my perception away, just like in Rubin’s face-vase figure-ground example.

    I love you.

    Honey Bun, I think I mentioned the following discussion thread in an earlier letter to you back at least as far as the latter half of November 2013.  I just stumbled across an Evernote bookmark I had saved to it, while searching through my notes for information pertinent to the theme of this letter I’m writing to you this morning.  

    This letter is about figure-ground perception.  You can look at Rubin’s face-vase drawing and see either a white vase against a black background or, when your perspective changes to make the black background the focus of your consciousness, it changes into a foreground image of two black faces looking at each other across what is now a white background where the vase had been before the flip in conscious perspective.  Of special note here is that your consciousness jumps from one perspective to the other, from the vase to the faces, immediately and without any gradual transition between.  There is no space or time in which a metamorphosing process takes place.  It is just either a white vase or two black faces.  No gradual change from one to the other.

    What ties this perceptual jump to the quantum jumping themes that have swept through the world of modern science and philosophy (and which I saved with the bookmark), is that the figure-ground perception jumps in a way that resembles a quantum jump between realities.

    Now, to make this subject plainer in this letter, I will try to describe below the key components of the discussion which I have bookmarked.  One person named Belcastro posted a question to a discussion thread entitled “The Multiverse, Quantum Death, and are Dreams other realities?”  The original discussion can be found at the following internet url: http://www.abovetopsecret.com/forum/thread978896/pg1.

    The question was essentially this:  If we live in a multiverse composed of many timelines and dimensions, and according to quantum mechanics we do in fact live in more than one place at more than one time, when we die or dream does this mean our consciousness is “quantum jumping” into another universe or dimension?  Are our dreams and our deaths quantum jumps into other realities.

    The writer of this discussion forum message went on to add that his (or her) dreams seem very vivid and asks if they might be other realities.  Well, Chris, I have suggested this much several times before based on your and my own  dream experiences together since you transcended this physical world from here to where you are now.  These dreams in which we meet together seem too real to discard as simple biochemical activities of the physical brain producing stray thoughts or working out the day’s various during physical sleep that night.  So you can see my interest in this particular discussion thread.

    The questioner goes on to ask if, when we die, does our consciousness still exist in other realities and do we simply wake up in another dimension as if the one we just died in had only been a dream itself?  He also says he has heard that the substance of the universe is consciousness and wondered if our waking state in this physical universe is only a dream itself, one of infinitely other dream or realities.  

    Okay, Honey Bun, there were several people responding to this person’s posted questions but I’ll just mention the best of the answers, which came from someone named CaticusMaximus.  He, or she, said that he does not personally think there are really multiple realities but instead simply jumps from one perspective to another.  Note that I put the word perspective in italics to draw attention to Rubin’s figure-ground perspective he exemplified in his vase-faces drawing.  It’s a “jump” in perspective!

    CaticusMaximus went on to write that he wouldn't worry about death because death is only a colloquial assumption based on a “hyper-limited perspective.”  He thinks death ceasing to exist is a ridiculous notion.  He goes on to say the questioner that, “You ARE existence.  Consciousness IS reality, which IS existence… how could you stop existing?”  

    He blames most people’s belief in death on the limitations of their 5-sense perspective.  “What they cannot see is nonexistent” to them, “And when we die we are no longer detectable (usually) by the 5 senses.”

    CaticusMaximus uses the example of playing a character in a role playing game (similarly to the way I have in the past used the example of identifying with fictional characters in movies, then coming back to our real selves when the movie ends).  He finishes his example by saying, “When you exit the game, do you stop existing?  How about when your character dies?  Do YOU die?”

    “Remember, you ARE consciousness,” he continues in his answer to Belcastro, “The observer, the awareness, without objective shape or form.  In fact, you are no thing at all, and indeed all things are transient, not being a thing, you are permanent, eternal, and infinite.

    “You are not dependent on any thing to sustain your existence, because you are the very essence of existence itself.”

    I personally, Chris, want to add that I believe we can and often do assume our old physical forms whenever we want to.  And this is how you and I and others, when separated so-called death, visit and communicate with each other in the interim of the the other’s temporary lagging behind in the physical world.  And often we may simply just want to play and tinker with personalities and forms we choose to create from our pure spiritual state.

    Anyway, Belcastro had also asked, “and when we die in one universe do we simply wake up in another universe as if this life was just a dream?”

    To which CaticusMaximus answered, “That’s how I think death will be for me.  It will be like awakening from a dream.  Unlike a sleep dream, though, I’ll have full recall.  Others may experience death in other ways.  There is no objective way to experience anything.”

    Okay then… that was the discussion.

    That’s the best of the thread, Honey Bun.  I liked it as much in this reading and transcribing as I did the first time I read it.  I am glad to know others have thoughts so similar to mine, which I have been putting so much hope in.  It adds confirmation and faith to my reasoning.

    I love you very much, Dear Wife.  And will see you soon.

January 02, 2014

JANUARY 02, 2014   THURSDAY MORNING

    Good morning, my Love, Christel.  I love you.

    I don't know, Honey Bun...  Maybe I should rethink my stance against making money from some of the knowledge I am acquiring from my spiritual education.  I would certainly have to guard against falling into the awful state of seeking enlightenment for the purpose of monetary profit.  That would be spiritual suicide.

    My main aim, of course, is getting back to you.  And the best way to do this is through spiritual advancement.

    This whole issue popped into my head out of the blue, as the cliche goes, at some point yesterday when I halfheartedly wished I could find a place to live that did not have neighbors like the man now living in the apartment next to mine, who sleeps all day and comes to life at night which is the time I and most other old people need to sleep.

    I considered culling together various well written and thought provoking notes from my spiritual writings and research and using them as the meat and bones of fictional stories people would enjoy enough to buy.  My reasoning was that I could circumvent the dangers of egoism and the destruction of my spiritual life and insights and, yet, still make money by clothing my spiritual understandings in fictional stories.  

    But I quickly realized this idea was ludicrous.  For one thing, I would simply be deluding myself with this excuse, of fiction writing, to trade my spiritual knowledge for money (which would make the money more important than the spiritual knowledge).  For another thing, what a royal waste of time it would be to devise complicated narratives to express simple and important truths that could be accomplished in a fraction of the time it takes to hide, tweak, twist, and distort the true message into the fictional container.  This would destroy the truth and the fiction.

    So, Chris, it's obvious that I must keep writing truth for truth's sake.  And let everything else take a backseat to that.

    This is actually a better situation than at first perceived.  It's so elegant as to border on the Divine.  My chief job in life will remain learning and expressing the truth without regard to making money from it.  To help stick to this course, I will continue to do as I have been doing for a year now, which is to keep all of my spiritual writing freely available to the public via open access to my files on the internet.  I will continue to keep my blog and my relevant files on Google Drive freely available.

    Now, since I live in a social system that operates on the use of money to pay for services, I must engage in making enough money to purchase the services I need.  This is not nearly as difficult as I had been thinking.  I will not sell my spiritual writing nor will I engage in the awful waste of time of creating fictional stories to make money or to sell specious truths.

    I will sell the time and effort it takes me to edit and package choice extracts of the very writings I am giving away free of charge in raw form over the internet.  I am selling labor, in other words.  And I will try to sell this labor, in the vehicle of ebooks, cheaply enough to give me my modest needs and still be available to the largest amount of people who wish to buy them.

    How's that, Honey Bun?  I love you dearly, infinitely, and eternally.  I can't remain here much longer in this physical world.  So I'll see you soon!