JUNE 12, 2014 THURSDAY MORNING
Hi, Christel, my loving wife and soulmate. Good morning! It is early. I am up since 3:00 AM.
I wanted to start this morning by copying and pasting a few things from Wikipedia that have originated from or is otherwise related to Duns Scotus, the philosopher-theologian I wrote about yesterday. But my research swerved down a side path from that as soon as I started reading.
My attention quickly landed on the following 20th century French philosopher, Gilles Deleuze, and his book Difference and Repetition, which intrigues me for reasons related to an instinct I have had and tried to express over the years. This instinct or inner sense is this: time cannot truly exist because nothing truly repeats itself. There is always some aspect of everything that is in a constant state of change -- its position in space relative to other things, the atomic particles composing it, nothing is ever at absolute rest. Everything is always brand-new in some aspect of itself; it has no duration ever as one and the same entity. Because it is always different in some aspect before even the beginning of the measure for a change is completed, it can’t be said to have changed because it is now a different thing even before you removed the measuring rod.
If a thing never stops its state of changing long enough to establish a static “before the change” state there will never be a fixed measure to compare a later measurement to. Indeed, there can never even be a later measure because the damn thing won’t stay still long enough to get a solid measurement of it. If there is never a static state in which the thing can be still long enough to show it has “duration” it cannot exist in time. It must exist outside of time, beyond time in a kind of supra time mode, where change is at home and can be thought of as still, like a fly frozen in amber while the amber is carried in a motion from here to there. Relative to the amber, the fly is motionless. Relative to the world outside the amber, the fly and the amber are in motion.
Relative to the whole of the universe, we are flies in amber. That is, we are motionless, carried through our lives by the unified movement of the universe, frozen as what we are, fixed into the universe. And the universe as a whole being cannot be measured in terms of time because there is nothing outside of the universe to measure the universe against.
I know this is... convoluted. It is a vague, growing understanding in my consciousness which is beyond language to express, beyond my present brain power to conceive clearly, at least beyond my linguistic abilities so far. This is why this philosophical work of Gilles Deleuze is important to me, at least for me to peruse with concentration and contemplation before I talk much more about it.
The following paragraph is extracted from a Wikipedia article I discovered this morning:
"Difference and Repetition (French: Différence et Répétition) is a 1968 book by philosopher Gilles Deleuze, originally published in France. It was translated into English by Paul Patton in 1994.
"Difference and Repetition was Deleuze's principal thesis for the Doctorat D'Etat alongside his secondary, historical thesis, Expressionism in Philosophy: Spinoza.
"The work assays a critique of representation. In the book, Deleuze develops concepts of difference in itself and repetition for itself, that is, concepts of difference and repetition that are logically and metaphysically prior to any concept of identity. Some commentators suggest that the book is Deleuze's attempt at a rewriting of Kant's Critique of Pure Reason from the point of view of genesis." - Wikipedia.
I love you, Honey Bun. I hope to read into this work with proper care.
LATE MORNING:
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 fine balance between “non-I-ness” and “just enough I-ness” to hold onto you in my consciousness. 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 (here is much to support this theory).
But these memories of my physical brain expressed themselves as grief-stricken kicks to the chest of painful emotions gripping 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 essence, with a life 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 at 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 healingly in the restful peace. I went to the kitchen to wash dishes or start coffee or something. I don’t remember.
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 a year and a half 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 pain is real.
I do not want you to feel this pain! But I thank God that it is I who get to suffer this pain instead of you! I want you to be okay, to be happy, joyful, and assured by infinite wisdom that I am real and I am really returning to you, my dear wife, Christel. Even if I myself am an illusion, I will make myself a 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, 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!
If I could feel… or, let me put it this way, “when” I do feel that you are happy and at peace, I am at peace also. 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, which is a good thing.
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