Thought Sixty Three

I was thinking this morning.

Why do I get irritable when I am uncomfortable. With words that I chose to allow me to feel like less. Logic would dictate that I disregard those words and continue to feel the same as I had. Like water off of a duck’s back.

But instead, I get hurt and angry. Failing to see the intentions behind the teasing. Teasing done by someone you trust, that has good intent for you is just that, teasing. Intended to make you laugh, point out absurdities or even give you a gentle poke in the ribs.

Again, down this trail of learning.

If something bothers me, it is my problem. I am the one having an issue with something a person had said. So I also need to be the one to deal with and own my emotions. To look into myself and determine why I feel the way I do.

Why something hurts.

Why.

 

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Thought Sixty Two

Flying back from California on a Bombardier 900 with a connecting flight in Pheonix, I sat next to an interesting woman. She was dressed in rough clothing (Carhart overalls), wearing round glasses and had a beat up computer she was trying to work on.

When I engaged her in conversation, I found that she was a botanist for the US Forestry service, married to a forest firefighter, had two small children, in recovery from being a Catholic and was in the part of life where people are harried with all the tasks of child raising, engaging work and the administration of life. That seems to be a collective experience with all married couples with children (as well as single parents). Rather bookish in looks, her conversation and thoughts were of more depth than most of the casual conversation I have in my daily work life. Although, if I am honest, because I am often alone, I can be gregarious at times when traveling.

<rabbit trail> When traveling alone, I find I exist in this bubble where only I exist. My thoughts everpresent seem to be even more in the forefront like a companion. In the type of work I do, I meet with people, engage in discussion and discovery, and for the most part, it is social. However, I do find that it is a perpetual process of spending time with people unknown. That being said, I often think that my mind becomes a constant traveler’s companion.</rabbit trail>

Back to my original thought.

During this discussion, I asked her a number of questions just to see if my perception of her stage of life was correct. She was a good sport, and it made the first leg of the journey pass quickly (in my perception). Thinking about the flight I was on, I proposed the following question to her.

What if instead of boarding an aircraft to fly across space through time, you instead entered a portal that disassembled you from matter to energy. Then used that energy to encode the construct that is you. The patterning of the atoms (atomic mappings) that make up your body built into an immensely massive JSON type file or another data construct. That energy package would be transmitted across the traveling distance at the speed of light to a receiver that would then reassemble you. (Think E=MC2). Perhaps the energy used to transmit your energy would be taken from fat cells not reassembled, cancerous cells or another area unwanted. So the traveling would cost would be negligible.

Then, after hundreds of trips through the portals, you found out that effectively, you died every time you were disassembled, and a perfect you reassembled from the energy into mass with the copy of your atomic mappings (minus the unwanted fat, cancer cells, etc.).

You are a copy of a copy’s copy.

You are not who you thought you were.

How do you feel about that?

She did not have any answers for this. I would have been surprised if she had. Although it would have made more interesting conversation. It did leave her with something to think about beyond just the standard daily fare.

Always planting seeds.

Ideas are like viruses. Once they are in the wild, they grow with a life of their own. Influence and change even in the most minimal form are in its way evolution as well.

If the memory of a memory passed across time is a form of reincarnation, it seems to me, it is a bleak one when it comes to the prospect of life after death. Across all cultures from time immemorial, humans have believed in and hoped for life after we cross that great divide, across the River Styx.

If I go based solely on hard data, what I can see, feel and measure, then this is it. There is no further no matter what we do, or how far we go. But then you would have to argue quantum physics, particles that are connected to other particles without crossing time and space. So much we don’t know compared to what we do.

My mind and my heart, the part of me that loves, wants there to be more. To survive and grow into something else with the people I love across the wonder of life. We all yearn for that. That’s where religion digs it rusted crusty malignant claws into us. Teaching us to hate and judge. I have rejected it as a relic of humanity’s childhood. An old dirty toy that has sharp rusty edges that threaten to cut and infect. An ugly thing that should be discarded and tossed away into the landfill of our past.

Forgotten and never to be retrieved.

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Thought Sixty One

What if we are all just insects in our evolution. The way microscopic bugs live on our skin, but we cannot see, nor feel them. The gods would be no more aware of us, than we are of these microscopic creatures that live on us.

In evolutionary terms, perhaps we evolve personally the way some animals do. Random mutations rewarded by nature (as in survival). Perhaps this is our evolution as well. Our organized thought rewarded within these lives or life?

Science is now finding memory is transmitted across generations in RNA. Perhaps some in DNA as well. If that is the case, would it not stand to reason that maybe the idea of reincarnation would be transferred memories between generations?
Perhaps Déjà Vu a form of that as well?

We would be reincarnated if our memories were resurrected in another passed on by generations, making the “bloodline” all the more imperative.

I hate to think it is something so small and simple. I want to give it more depth, to connect in other ways that we cannot. On quantum levels, I don’t begin to understand.
That our organized thought, the part that makes us that us an I, is something that lives on beyond the body and into another existence or evolves into something more.

I like this idea.

As I write this novel that I am working on, the story comes more easily without me even trying. Part of my personal evolution. That would be something.

Getting on a plane, jetting off to the west coast, these things drift through my mind.

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Thought Sixty

What if we are also evolutionary on the organized thought front as well as a species in the time space of a thousand billion realities?

This would make sense. The very beginnings of the least organized of thought, a synaptic connection in the primitive brain of a small simple creature on this planet. Perhaps bound to this planet until we “escape” it? The limitations placed on us are by us.

That makes sense to me.

It also takes the “god created you, be thankful to him” nonsense off the table. We are always creating gods and more religions that poison and damage us in untold ways. These worshipful religions destroy our societies and destroy free clear independent thought. Narcissistic gods created by twisted belief systems that their believers develop. Twisting them even further.

Knowledge is transmitted across time through myths and stories. Our predecessors take those myths and stories, bind them into some twisted malformed religion and then spank their weak unthinking followers into becoming as dumb as they are.

We must think for ourselves. In this life, we must learn to never trust someone that would have us blindly follow their faith or beliefs.

We must read and learn. Use our minds to think and then talk to others. Travel the world and see for ourselves the beauty of what is.

This is how we evolve.

This is how we become.

I want to love with my whole heart. Be on fire with passions and learning. To throw away the things that bind me and make me become small.

Let your mind wander. Sit still and look out into your world while also looking in. Forgive those that trouble you in your heart and live in today with all that you are.

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Thought Fifty Nine

I am dusting off these dinosaur bones.

A little at a time, they come to light. A story wanting to be told for the thousand millionth time across history. Out of my mind and through my fingers these stories come as they have all across time.

The same stories told over and over again.

But most are lost on the bulk of us. We choose not to listen. We watch TV, our mouths hung open, our minds closed and drugged by the videos.

We are only here for a brief amount of time. Then it starts all over again, and chances are you won’t remember.

Take chances. In your career, in your life.

Love a woman with your whole heart and worry not if you will be hurt. Because you will be hurt, then you will heal, and know what that means to your heart. Then love her again.

Fight in a war. Put on your armor and guns. Love those around you for you know they will be lost. In battle, in mind, in life.

Sit on a beach far and away. Watch the waves knowing that they are entirely unique and that you will never see exactly the same one ever again.

Get on an airplane, talk to the people around you and learn their stories, for they will be gone far and away and what they say to you may change your life in ways you might not comprehend yet.

Walk through the white sand with the heat of the desert on your back knowing not where you travel, but go there anyway.

The white desert awaits you…

 

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Thought Fifty Eight

In the guest bathroom in my home, there are two mirrors. These are in the outer room where the sinks are. Late one night, as I was exiting, I looked into the mirrors. It was about two in the morning and, I could see my image off into infinity. On both sides.

On both sides.

When I raised my hand, I saw my gun rise and fall. In a thousand images, I watch my hand come up and go down. Looking at this, I thought about a thousand billion realities and possibilities that might be.

If in this reality, if I were being hurt or to die, would I not forward my sense of being, my “I” into this reality? And would the next version of me be lost or pushed into another version of the “I”?

That would make sense.

But what if each of these thousand billion realities is only slightly different, then you would need to move even further away from these realities to come to a different of “Most probably outcomes”TM.

That would seem likely as well.

Then perhaps if you choose to “see” like a god, then you would see of these thousands of billions of realities all at once (and not go insane). Then you would know where to move your consciousness (or sense of “I”).

The funny or not funny part of the consciousness or sense of “I” is that, would you even know that you had changed. Or this all at one in that you could feel it all and, perhaps even lose the sense of “I” as you allow yourself to remember what you are.

I don’t think the gods remember who they are. If they did, then they wouldn’t be gods and by their nature consumptive gods then.

Interesting.

To think that even the gods themselves do not remember. Perhaps it is the remembering that we desire most. To remember is to perhaps “ascend” as the Buddhists say.

At least for me, remember is important.

 

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For if I remember, would I lose the enjoyment of creating everything literally from the big bang event horizon across a thousand billion realities (or at least set it in motion)?

I am not sure.

Remember and participate at the smallest level. The people around you. Even the gods themselves would shake with fear, for they would not begin to understand you, nor what you do. And so the endless cycle begins again, ever moving forward.

A beginning with no conceivable ending. For the ending would always be the beginning no?

 

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Thought Fifty Seven

Betrayal

Thy bitter sting.

I was surprised how much betrayal hurt. That terrible stinging sensation that spins you away into a dark place where acts of violence are not only possible but probable.

Mostly likely done without thought of the damage that it might do to others. For political gain in a swamp infested with leather skinned gators. While the birds that perch upon their backs parrot back these untruths in their squawking voices of fear.

It leads me to wonder where I too have maligned others. Have I walked a mile in their shoes that I might know the pain and fear that they have walked in?

I will think upon these things when I too am tempted to reply in ego. For a single small stone tossed into a calm lake creates a ripple that may cross the world and cause untold damage to persons unknown.

My ex-wife has maligned me, bore false witness against me, lied in court, and much more. But I no longer wish to speak of her or her misdeeds and functions of evil. Life is meant to be lived, to be enjoyed, to stretch and grow, to laugh and love, to cry and morn, to be.

This I shall do. For I am the Wolf. My friends and family are Pac.

In this the White Desert…

 

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