“The brain itself does not produce consciousness. That it is, instead, a kind of reducing valve or filter, shifting the larger, nonphysical consciousness that we possess in the non physical worlds down into a more limited capacity for the duration of our mortal lives.” ~ Eban Alexander, Proof of Heaven: a Neurosurgeon’s Journey Into the Afterlife
Last night’s Blood Moon Super Moon solar eclipse kindled a spontaneous evocative of my dad. I remembering how moved he was by the sight of a Blood Moon not so long before he died. He wanted to live to see the alignment of planets at the end of the century as well, and although the hospice nurse told him they would have to work hard to make that happen I think that everyone in the room heard that a “not likely”. Maybe his spirit has come to me for a spell, slipping through the gap in the Veil brought by the full moon. What is it, dad? Are you advocating reasonable goals? I need that right now, but there is something larger at play in my life. I’m just now beginning to feel the refreshing morning breeze of peace, after the rude shock of losing a job that meant the world to me in that it provided me with a conduit through which my soul was gifted with communion with Nature, thanks to them kitties. I was wounded dad. Sometimes life is like that. No ‘poor me’ from me. I have no claim to details of what lies before me in the next steps along through my life’s journey, but I can tell you right now dude that it looks bright. Jaw-droppingly bright. The kind of bright that makes you sit down and breathe for a good long while before you move forward once again. No, wait . . . sometimes you can best move forward by standing or sitting still for a spell. Or going in circles. Corwin of Amber, in Roger Zelazny’s marvelous Amber Chronicles, first suggested that circle thing to me. Yes, I am still collecting wisdom from fictional characters. And no, that doesn’t mean that I have turned Republican. You know me better than that.
Yikes. I guess it is alright, considering that this my personal blog, to have a little chat with my dad, but it mildly freaks me out that I would lapse in to such a thing without first checking in with myself. However, those words and more abstract expressions were tasty and timely. And once again it is a cool, refreshing morning. The weird thing is that I woke up feeling almost none of the usual free-floating anxiety that is there almost every friggin day. Lucky me. I sense that somehow I am re-establishing a bridge connection back to the guy I was in the two years after my NDE. There was literal mind-boggling confusion back then. I carried joyfulness and despair, one in each pocket. Both head trauma and celestial dazzlement gave me good reason to commence with recovery on many different levels, and also integration of spiritual wonder, and I had to do it all myself. I sit here feeling the repressed and incarcerated weepiness that arises from somehow losing that wonder along the way; not losing it totally, it’s just that it slipped from awareness as far as its being a lovely gift of a tool. Nothing was wasted, no mistakes, no worries. Time runs backwards. When it needs to. Now is one of those times. Time circles back on itself as well. Corwin of Amber was right: sometimes you can make the most progresses by going in circles.
That’s me to a T these days. My 61st birthday is three weeks away. I am unemployed. I have time to contemplate and muse and dream. But about that bright thing I saw on the road before me? I haven’t a friggin clue. I mean, I have seen the light at the end of the tunnel during my NDE voyage. This isn’t that bright. Boy howdy I am just trying to get by! And I have a sneaking suspicion that I am reaching back to myself from the future as well. Sweet.
I’m looking forward to my volunteer gig at the spayed/neuter clinic on Saturday. I’m looking forward to my therapy session this afternoon. I’m looking forward but I ain’t moving forward. I’m moving in those aforementioned circles. Time will bring things to me for now. Who knows, maybe if I can just slide out of my own way a smidge I will be able to . . . ummmm, geez, it kind of tickles to think that way.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.