9
Welcome to my home. I’d been trying to tune into Anna’s voice throughout the day yesterday, not just while writing, and, also, a little this morning, lying in bed, as I waited for my alarm to go off at 8:00 AM. Normally, throughout the day, if I was going to tune into a voice, I’d tune into my voice—not Anna’s, but I was having such trouble conjuring Anna’s voice that i felt i needed the practice. Listening to the clock had me measuring my breathing more, even when i wasn’t listening to a clock, so i figured that was a good thing, and, some, I tried to breath a three second count, and, more often, I tried to breathe my natural count, which is a compressed count—a little shorter than three seconds. So Ursula was welcoming me to her home—and by that I could only conclude that, in getting back to my measured breathing, I was getting closer to her, and that which she considers her home. Perhaps, otherwise, I was only with her at different times of the day, like when one of us was deliberately trying to tune in, as opposed to just measuring our breathing, and being with each other in general.
Now, I actually hadn’t heard Anna’s voice in quite a while, so maybe a refresher would help, but I still had her voice on file, and the other voices I sometimes used were the voices of dead people—so i had to rely entirely on a combination of memory and my imagination with them, and, as such, i figured I should be able to do the same thing with Anna—that, in order to be closer to my Ursula, i didn’t have to spend time listening to Anna talk. I considered Anna to be an ex—if that meant we actually had a life together, for a time, in 5D, remains to be seen, but, given the way i feel about her right now, it seems a little unlikely. I expect, in 5D, for every woman i share a life with, if there’s more than one, to be a part of my family—to share a bond, a familiarity, and a kindness with and for each other that we wouldn’t otherwise share, even if our lives took separate paths, and we rarely saw each other. But I didn’t think, in the next life, it was necessary for exes to be separated from each other, to not see each other. I think that is one of the almost necessary imperfections of this life—that, in order to split, and remain split, we must develop a mild antipathy for each other—or, on the other hand, deliberately choose, by not speaking to each other, to stamp out whatever feeling might remain. Those feelings, I’ve always felt, are there for a reason, and, if your ex is a good person, you should be able to navigate all the various shades of gray that embody our emotions, and our feelings for each other.
Speaking of shades of gray, lately I’d been dreaming up scenarios with some imaginary friend’s woman—some woman that cared for me, but cared for her partner more. That raised the question: could I also speak telepathically to them? Would that require a different voice? But, if they had their own voice, wouldn’t they distract me, and divert attention away from my Ursula? What if I started hearing that voice more? Then that voice would actually be my Ursula’s voice, and vice versa, which would defeat my purpose of zoning in on my Ursula using one and only one voice. That meant that, until I had some specific voice in mind, to represent some specific friend, as opposed to my general Ursula, i shouldn’t try to speak telepathically, in a general sense, to another abstract person. That meant the abstract person I had in mind, my Ursula, might have to represent every woman I shared a bed with—every woman I cared for, and had a relationship with. I reasoned, then, that I just wouldn’t hear from them as often, and that, if I did, we wouldn’t communicate in an especially intimate, or private, way. We, instead, would be each other’s back up resource, or even back up plan, if, that is, our corresponding relationships should fail, and nobody should step in to take their place. We would be friendly with each other, just as Ursula and I would be friendly with each other—so, in that sense, I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart, which kind of made sense, given the shades of gray that I’m talking about, but, I figured, when I shared or received something especially private, then I could reason that that person, in fact, was a woman that, at some point in my 5D life, I partnered with, full time. Someone that I lived with, and shared a life with.
Divine. Now, I know what you’re thinking: what if your friend’s woman falls for you, or you fall for her? Won’t that create a mess—and leave people with hurt feelings? But I think you accept that as a possibility when you share a bed with another person—even if you trust, based on the love you feel, that you will remain in love, you are also true, both to yourself and them, at least in heaven, and every outcome, when a replacement love is inevitable, is, for all involved, the best, most desired outcome. Instead of getting jealous, you are happy for each other, and you look forward, after that, to your new partner, and the bond that you will share with them. Perhaps you even take an extended amount of time to yourself—perhaps you both needed and wanted that, and that was partly why, in the grand scheme of things, your relationship shifted. It wasn’t just the bond that formed between your friend and your partner that shifted—it wasn’t just them getting what they wanted: you were also getting what you wanted—happiness for them, and a new life, and a new love, for yourself.
Sounds too good to be true, right? And, in this life, at least some of the time, it is; there is no guarantee, in this life, that just because one person develops feelings for another person, those feelings will be reciprocated, just as there is no guarantee that we will inevitably, and, perhaps quickly, fall in love with someone new. But the basic reasoning remains the same: if someone’s feeling a shift, then that is because everybody involved wants to go in a different direction, and that direction, ultimately, is the direction that will make us the most happy, even in this life, since, if your partner is feeling a shift, after all, then your feelings, for that person, inevitably shift, too, as you realize that the private love between you is no longer there. I simply don’t believe that something is meant to be if someone else can take it apart, perhaps, often enough, through no fault of their own. That works for me. So no, I wouldn’t, or, at least, in this life, I shouldn’t, be jealous, or unhappy, because of someone else, as long as that person isn’t kept hidden from me—as long as I am not misled, and cheated on. You can be true to both your partner and your oncoming partner at the same time—at least, that is, if money, and survival, is of no concern. You don’t pull away from your partner so much as you shift gears, and speak to them as they speak to you, relative to the real distance between you, the distance that made finding a new partner a reality. You could still be infinitely kind, friendly, and maintain a bond, and a familiarity, that nobody can take away.