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Judas Iscariot

22 Sep


I follow the thread of the tale.
I see it has wound its way,
Ever present in the history of the soul,
Through the passage of time
Connecting each word,
Each paragraph,
Each chapter,
Into the fabric of a life.

In its meandering it has taken on a glow.
A gentle, quiet glow of effervescent silver sparks.
And if you look closely you can see them pulsating,
Like tiny explosions, one after the other,
In an electric display of miniature fireworks.
Yet there is no heat. It is cool and calming.

And as I follow this storyline,
Passing it gently through my hands,
I come to a place where I feel and see an anomaly.
It is as if the cord is broken, but it is not.
I can feel the gap and there is a definite break.
But no matter how I hold it or pull it on each side,
The apparent gap stays the same as if joined by an invisible link.

There are no sparks here, there is no glow,
Only a seemingly empty space
Representing a break –
But refusing to act as one.

I am intrigued.
I go through all the thoughts I can possibly find in my head
To explain this phenomenon.
Ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous,
The only one I can find that makes any sense
Is that there must be something there,
Its just I cannot feel it or touch it.
I have no sense that can detect it.
Therefore it must come from a world
Other than the physical one
I am inhabiting at this very instant.
Perhaps in that world,
Only the missing link can be perceived,
And the rest of the cord, which I have in my hands,
Is not visible there.

So now what?
My active imagination then begins to wonder
What lead am I following?
Whose strand of life is this?
If I could know that,
Maybe I would have a clue to that other world.

I feel a great sense of sadness welling up inside me.
As I hold this cool, feather-like strand,
I sense its loss and longing.
I sense its wishing that things could have been different.
I start to feel that it is trying to tell me
Of something that happened,
Which was unavoidable, destined and inevitable.

I sense and hear the anguish in its voice
Of how events were written into the history books
Long before they occurred.
And it sings to me the sad song of its fate,
Caught up in the rotating planets
And the coincidence of its being there,
Synchronizing with the juxtaposition
Of the earth, the sun and the moon.

And it whispers to me,
How in that unconscious moment,
When, hidden from the eyes of the seeing world,
The soul of a betrayer slipped into a next door world
To avoid the karmic debt of an allotted task.

One cannot move between worlds without a dire consequence.
Only he who has good reason is given the choice
To abandon all experience
And erase all memories of existence.
Only one who has the strength of Titans
Can accomplish this kind of task,
And only one who has earned the grace of God
Can expect to survive the challenge.

The strand becomes quiet in my hands.
I feel it is looking for past memories
Somewhere in its lost history.
Gently, I make a loop.
I bypass the gap allowing the two sides to touch.
I fashion a knot to keep them together.
It looks unprofessional and unwieldy, but no matter.
I feel a quickening in the cord
An electricity and a renewed vigour.

I get the impression
That an unexpected reprieve
Can come our way sometimes.
Not quite perfect,
But enough to allow us to move on
And pass the hands of destiny.

I get the feeling that we all once,
In some way or other,
Have had to swallow a bitter pill
And suffer the consequences
Through no fault of our own
Except the circumstances of our birth.

I begin to understand,
That for one such man,
An appointed task of such heinous proportions
Fell on his shoulders,
And that only the desperate measure of an eclipse
And a portal to another world,
Could save him
From the madness
Of bearing his destined guilt.

[Judas Iscariot, due to his lineage and destiny, was the only possible candidate available to be
selected to play the part of the betrayer. In the story, which needed to unfold, only the unique planetary alignments and his own mystic capacities could allow him to escape the epic karmic debt
he would have had to have incurred: by him being there but not being there, at the same time.]

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Creator/God/Source

14 Sep

Alpha and Omega
How can I tell who I am?
How can I know I exist?
How can I see what I look like?

I have often pondered this.
I have often speculated on my own consciousness.

If you were me, what would you do?
If you had thought so hard that your brain nearly burst and yet you failed to answer this fundamental question of “Who am I?”, what would you do?
Imagine you are cognizant of your own self, but there is no outside containing you and giving you form – you have no parameters, no end.
How could you define yourself?

Then I ask myself, why should I bother to know?
I come to the conclusion that since I am “All That Is”, I must know everything, and yet I do not know what I look like.
So clearly, I do not know everything!
Therefore I think I better as sure as hell find out, so that I do know. I must know what I look like!

If I am seen, if another consciousness can experience me and I then absorb that consciousness, then I will know who I am because I have seen myself.
So within myself, I set out a space from where I withdraw my consciousness.
And into this empty space I inject millions of tiny particles of my own consciousness-
And then I watch what happens.

I see all these small particles floating about, helpless and disconnected, blindly vibrating with no direction.
So I think I must set some rules and guidelines to stop them wandering aimlessly.
And also, I see the panic in their energy field, a hopelessness and despair of feeling abandoned and lost.
So I make sure there is a way for them to return to me when they know me, so they can report back.
And I send a few bright sparks who are still tethered to me who can show them how to find the way back when the time comes.

All in all, its the best idea I can come up with.
From some of the report backs I am now building a picture of myself by comparing the different perspectives.
It is interesting, I must say.
And I am quite enjoying the whole project.

The surprising thing is, though, that these millions of particles of consciousness are displaying remarkable powers of creativity within the confines of the laboratory.
Its quite amazing how the laws I set down can be bent and manipulated, depending on the desires of the individual entities.
And when groups join together with similar intent, great shifts occur.

Who would have thought?
And seeing their antics, so minuscule in the grand scheme of things, yet the fact deters them not;
I have to give them credit for their grit and determination to organize their surroundings to suit their own ends.
And considering these are all particles of me, I also have to say I admire them and therefore I admire myself.

It is also quite pleasing that in all the confusion and chaos, these particles are also asking the same questions
“Who am I” and “How do I know I exist?” as I ask myself.
Yes, I am really quite fond of them all.
Some of the rules I set out now, in hindsight, seem rather harsh and unnecessary.
But the plan is set and can’t be changed now.

So let us just see where it all goes, and as more and more reports come in, the reconnaissance troops will have done enough investigation for me to get my answers.
Then I will draw all the particles back to me,
And I shall be richer for the experiment!

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