i’m excited for you and the feeling was mutual, but i wasn’t going to let that statement dictate my life. Nor was i going to turn away, since we had this relationship, this non-physical—this non-four-dimensional relationship. We were coupled to something greater than ourselves, but it was something that we were an intrinsic part of—light—as in, in the beginning there was light; half that light constructively interfered, an organization which, when projected onto four dimensions, formed mass that attracted other mass—furthering the divide between nothingness and something-ness—until light yields eternal life. That tendency toward self-organization is the foundation of consciousness, if not consciousness itself. So I had a pretty good idea that I existed both here and in the fifth dimension, and that Ursula did, too. you know i can’t do that, which, i think, referred to the possibility of an affair—so that was good; but the mere fact that she tried to make me understand that she “couldn’t” left the door ajar.
i’m not saying that i love you and i was aware of that, but i was saying: we’re free to do what we want and you might be thinking, what kind of moral code is that? but it wasn’t exactly a moral code—i mean it kind of was, but what i was really saying is that we have our free agency—yes, and we will inevitably be happy, yes, but we choose to be happy—that’s the whole point of coming to this earth; to choose to be happy—to choose to obey truth. that’s dense and she was right—i am dense: there’s a whole lot of information packed into something that’s difficult to explain. I trip up, i make mistakes, and I lose people to the void. so i try, every day, to save souls—or, that is to say, i try to make what i imagine to be truth something that other people can understand—something that we can understand, since, in effect, my audience is my sounding board—the boundary that tells me how to adjust, and how to move.
“I don’t know anything about that,” i said, and, sure you do here she was, telling me what i wanted to hear, that, indeed, there was a little wiggle room—i think she understood what i meant when i said we choose to be happy. it doesn’t happen overnight; several difficult sub-choices have to be made, and, eventually, you have to abandon the person that keeps getting set back—despite the highs that our bodies can support when we’re young. She was right—i did know what she was talking about, and, if i was right, then that didn’t make me conceited. It made me a realist.
But there were ethical and moral considerations that had to be considered—we needed a smooth transition from one path to the next, and that alone would prove my intentions. But I also knew that this idea of being with Ursula, as is so often the case, didn’t mean i was getting Ursula; on the contrary, it more than likely meant i might get something that I really need—like the breakthroughs i’d been having with respect to my physics studies, and, also, the way that people, over time, responded to my paintings. In short—i might not have been getting a life with Ursula—i might be getting, instead, a better relationship with myself—that would lead me to even more compassion and understanding. True happiness, self-acceptance, was the endgame—not the idea that someone famous could love me.
that’s the idea and, clearly, i was on the right track, so i reminded myself of the hysterical gap between the work that i was doing and the work that other people were doing. not only was it a feat to get noticed, but, furthermore, you needed to prove yourself, and that could take twenty years—and, even then, you’d have to merge, a little, with something that people could accept, like, for example, not necessarily dumbing down your poetry, but, in my case, making it a little less dense and, furthermore, something that didn’t embarrass people—something that matched my age, and the character or role that identified me. i had started to do that, and i think people were gaining interest because of that, but, for example, when it came to recognition, momentum, and stardom, people had to believe in you, and they would only believe in you if they saw some element of them—and their truth, in you. The merger of their truth with your truth, often enough, didn’t happen until after you died, and people, then, didn’t have to put up with the ego that, if you were alive, could ruin your work.