You can’t ever know with certainty that you’re seeing the whole picture—but you build up a world-view over time, and, at some point, usually when you’re happy or on the verge of happiness, you choose to believe it. That world-view, for most people, involves having children that will pick up where we left off—in that way, we live forever. But for some of us—like Ursula and me, there was more at stake. We had more to lose. Our world-views eventually lead to believing in things that don’t begin and end. Even if, as an atheist, i say, there is no God, then i’m also saying, as an atheist, that i never needed a creator, and, therefore, an end would be ill-defined. It wouldn’t make any sense.
So, it’s not that i live forever: no, it’s more that i just am. i’m conscious of the void—and the void has no awareness over me. I live, for now, just a little outside of the fifth dimension, a little behind it, but time bends, and all is good. in short, consciousness is about getting as close as possible to the infinitesimal present moment—we’ll never get there, but we can get infinitely close.
it occurred to me, then: maybe loving Ursula isn’t about reporting the testimony that, between us, we feel; maybe it’s about writing something that she would like to read. Was that what i was doing? I couldn’t think in such terms, however—i had to write the way that the spirit told me to—but what if that spirit, for me, manifested itself as Ursula? Did Ursula really like all my creations—was she enthralled by my secrets—and gradual revelations? It sounds too good to be true; i have to admit, i never really considered being with someone that was enthralled by my work. It doesn’t seem real. But i had this idea: i wouldn’t keep doing what I do if I didn’t believe that, in assimilating my thoughts, others, following a path similar to mine (which, ultimately, is everybody’s path) wouldn’t find some sense of satisfaction, wonder, or security—if not joy, then i probably wouldn’t be doing it.
But were my beliefs misguided? I protest, however, that if my beliefs were misguided, by now, (I’m 47) the “guide,” or one of us, at least, would have gotten bored and backed away from what could be nothing less than chaos.
So Ursula represented the future—a place where she, and, others (as a function of this my discovery), could turn for answers for their questions, and, sometimes, questions to inspire them—to drive them to develop ideas of their own. But this is also a love story (because of that), and all of us are seeking some form of love—if not every form of love; so i write, then, what Ursula tells me, and, also, what Ursula wants to know. We are separated, for now, by the fourth dimension, but, in the fifth dimension, we exist for each other, and love is a permanent thing—so there’s never any jealousy or any question of what our intentions are.
The best way to contribute to heaven, then, is to approach the “other” that lives in the future and determines today’s event—and by that i mean the event that we are going to, the one that, leaves us, like a schizophrenic, feeling gratification as we press on to satisfaction and or a reward. In this life a reward doesn’t always come, but in the future—if you go far enough, there is always the consummation of our gratification and, also, our expectations.
So what was my predicament? Everything, at this time, depended on Ursula—the object by which the two of us could find harmony with both each other and the pleasant surprises that awaited us. So i had no big consummation or gratification to look forward to (in this life)—I had to believe to get any response at all, but, when we believe, we project what matters to us, and, in doing that, we interact with every other dimension. My reward, technically (and i guess the great surprise of becoming famous is that, in fact, there is no great consummation for that, either) was the moment, off and on, phasing in and out, in which i felt i’d been given a glimpse, and, as such, a witness, of the things that I, necessarily, believed.