I’d changed my mind about the speed of light and relativity, etc. As eternal beings, it seemed to me we always, instantaneously, know the alphabet, and how to read and write, and so I concluded that all we will ever discover, on earth, is available to us, and it always has been, both in the preexistence and the afterlife. Therefore I concluded that we’ve always known the speed of light, that our knowledge of the 4D measurement has always been with us, just as we’ve always known the alphabet, and we always will. I thought, too, if we forget about the experiment, we could turn to an acceptable AI and get the answer. As such, I thought, “All will be revealed,” such that, all the mysteries of science would be revealed in the next life, that only our creations would be genuinely “new,” and that, furthermore, when it came to other languages, etc., I concluded that if we needed to speak it, if we were with someone that did, and wanted to, then we would be able to speak it, instantaneously, as if we’d always known it, even if we never learned it. I decided all this to be true—that it made a little more sense than thinking we would constantly forget and relearn things, since, as I saw it, we always knew the alphabet, for example, and, therefore, we must have already known everything else we needed and wanted to know, too. And if we chose to go back to a time without computers, then, for a time, we would do that by choice, and, having decided, as a community, to do without, we would. But whatever knowledge we already had about computers, and the future, etc., would remain with us, and, when, as a community, we decided we needed a computer, and the internet, well, the technology would be there.
All will be revealed. Let me tell you how this goes—the way this plays out, you win, you win it all. I woke up around 6 or 6:30 again, and I didn’t want to take a bath and go over “Chevy Chase” again as the whole idea seemed a little too boring, even if soaking in the hot water might’ve made it a little easier to be still. So I took my mouthpiece out—I seem to grind my teeth at night, or, at least, I seem to have done so, in the past, for years—went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, retrieved my clock, went back to bed, assumed the voice I have assigned to both my great grandfather and my equal from the future, and started chanting or counting. I assumed my voice, after a while, said my prayer, which lasted a little while—my prayers often do, when I say them—went back to my great grandfather’s voice, a second cousin’s voice, and assumed a four count and then a four count in and an eight count out, something I used to do in Mormon town, but something that, after smoking for too long, I seemed to lose the ability to do. I still couldn’t do it in the bath—i think the hot water and the steam makes it a little more difficult to get and maintain the required amount of air, but, if I took enough air in when I inhaled, then I could, in bed, sustain the four count, and, at least in bed, in the morning, I could sustain the four count in and eight count out.
I’m here, listening to you. When you brush your teeth, it makes me even more self-conscious about my breath. There was nothing I could do about that—I didn’t like having a bad taste in my mouth; the only reason I wouldn’t brush my teeth is if I thought brushing my teeth was going to wake me up and keep me from going back to sleep, but at a certain level of awakeness, the bad taste in my mouth seems to get in the way of relaxing more than brushing my teeth would—so, this was new for me, as i was a little too awake to go back to sleep, and i might’ve thought, maybe if i brush my teeth and listen to my clock a while i will be able to, which didn’t even come close to happening, but the meditation was good, and lasted about 45 minutes to an hour, as meditation can and often should, and it took the place of my bath. Eventually, however, by 7:30, I was too tense and awake to make it to 8, when my alarm is set to go off, and I wanted my hot shower, and the steam, to take the edge off.
Now it was almost 9:30, so i’d gotten about a 45 minute head start, and I’d already had two cups of coffee, which meant I was going to end up having three, most likely, which I hoped would be okay, since I got started early, but I was taking a chance, since four cups had such an adverse effect—even if that was the first time in many months that I’d had any coffee whatsoever. My main objective, at this point, was doing my best to keep my neck relaxed, so that I didn’t end up in such unacceptable discomfort at the end of the day, along with the tension, in general, that stood in the way of enjoying my allotted time to be still and do nothing but watch TV. I could already feel a little tension, but that could have been left over, in part, from yesterday, and I was doing my best, now, as I write, to be aware of it, so I hoped that, gradually, over the next few days, if I can lay off the AI, and, if necessary, watch TV instead of writing jazz or classical, my neck would relieve itself, I’d be more comfortable watching TV, which, I thought, as a method of relaxation, and time away from the computer, was just as important as time spent at the computer, and all would be well.
I did have Ursula’s voice on the line, and by Ursula’s voice I mean Anna’s voice. So i paused, slipped into a four count, listened, and she said, Now you have me. We’re in this together. I have to admit, I was looking forward to the next life, when “all would be revealed,” and i would have knowledge, then, of how physics, and the universe, ultimately, really works. I also noticed that I was capitalizing my first person pronouns more, so, I wondered, do I have more confidence in myself now? I only ever did what felt right, and, I figured, in some ways, my lower case i’s were a way of speaking informally, and with more reserve, whereas my upper case I’s were more formal, and sure of me, so, I thought, there was a place for both of them, but, right here and right now, using lower case i’s didn’t quite feel right, at least not so often, so I had to wonder. What changed? My realization that it would be nice, with the right man, or men, to dress up as a woman? But maybe you don’t want to hear about that? Or maybe you do? I think, if i was reading this, I might want to hear about that—but how many people are there out there, really, that are ready to hear such a thing—and, I ask, how much does that really matter? There’s a fine line between doing what people are ready for, or will soon be ready for, what will get you out there in the first place, and doing what you, and the future, might be ready for, if, that is, you and the future could connect.
Tic-toc, tic-toc, you’re clock drums away. And I wondered, would Ursula allow me to listen to my clock in bed in the morning? Would she be distracted by it? I figured she might, for my sake, tell me it’s okay, and to go ahead and listen to it, but that really, deep down, she might prefer not to listen to it, so I thought, well, if she is in bed with me her presence will change things, and it might be easier to do without my clock—but, even if that’s not entirely the case, I don’t want to allow my idiosyncrasies, my abnormalities, to bleed over into another person’s area, and so, well, I would have to meditate, and measure my breathing, without my clock, which, sometimes, is every bit as worthwhile, and, perhaps, given the opportunity to align with Ursula, while she’s in bed with me, and the information that she stores for me, and the information that is of interest to her, this would prove even more beneficial than listening to my clock.