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In my deep, deep sleep.
I have dedicated a great part of my life. To pondering.
About the absurdity of life. I do this. Because that is what I was born to do.
It’s my creator-given mission. Of course, I also take time off. And try to
ponder not at all. To cease thinking. About anything. Maybe that is why I have
been blessed with sleep. Moments of unconsciousness. But even then, I can’t
fully escape. I lapse Into the consciousness of dreams. Though I can’t always
tell that it’s me. Dreaming. It may be someone else. Taking control of my mind.
Sending me a message. That I often don’t
understand. Perhaps I was born. To imagine. That I’m living. When really, I’m
dead. Yes. Yes. I am blessed by my creator.
Who allows me to imagine. That I am very much alive. Whenever the urge
emerges. In my deep, deep sleep. --Jim
Jim, I like that you keep telling yourself that your not crazy. So do I, lol.
When I was younger, I asked my therapist if he thought I was normal. He said, you know I don't think there is such a thing as normal. He said, the key is learning what society says is acceptable and make sure you do that in public and you won't be thought of as abnormal. Also of course he added that as long as you do that and aren't hurting yourself or anyone else, your doing good. Best therapist I ever had!
I have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth.
I recognize, jfkoc, that I am living in the shadows. And the
only way to see beyond. Is to use my blessed imagination. To follow my instincts.
Knowing that once I flee the physical world (Plato’s Cave). I will become spirit.
Thereby freeing myself. To explore the entirety of physical creation. As an
observer. From above. But even then,
there will be something beyond the beyond. Always another beyond. Which will
keep me in pleasurable awe. Forever and ever. Always searching for the end of
the rainbow. And never quite finding it. For good reason. That would be the end
of my journey. The end of life. And I prefer remaining on the journey. And even
getting purposely lost. So that I can sidetrack. To a new place. Always feeling more and more alive. That’s
the joy. To experience the life force. To continually fall in love. With ever-changing
reality. Not knowing what’s to come next. Wow! Wow! Wow! Give me more of life. --Jim
Could be. That it’s natural. To get tired of living. In the
physical realm, that is. I Imagine that it can be a burden. Punishment, of
sorts. Full of physical, mental and emotional anguish. Though I haven’t reached
that point. And don’t want to. But hey, I wonder if Methuselah ever thought of
cashing in his chips. Maybe at the halfway point, around his 500th birthday. Rather than choosing to push on for what must
have seemed like an eternity. Did he have to endure painful arthritis? Or did
he remain physically fit for his entire life? Without the slightest indication
of dementia. Or heart disease. Of course, it could be that Methuselah was a mere myth. The figment of a storyteller’s wild
imagination. Anyway, I wouldn’t mind
putting it all to a test. By becoming a modern-day Methuselah. Being recorded.
Documented. To provide undeniable proof for future generations. Thing is. If Methuselah
actually did ever reside here on Earth, he might still be alive. In the spiritual realm.
If I ever get there myself –well, it would be a pleasure to interview
Methuselah. To satisfy my boundless curiosity. --Jim