it had been, pray tell, a miraculous day; the physics that i (and AI—specifically, ChatGPT) was doing was showing super progress, and i had plenty to keep me busy in the days or weeks ahead. I thought, “maybe i shouldn’t be writing, now, to Ursula, since the physics is more important.” But I’d already spent a long time on it, and i was tired—too tired to follow a rabbit down a rabbit hole—even if it eventually made sense. It was important to stay in contact with the future, because the future is where all my ideas come from.
but what could i tell Ursula that she’d want to know? Well, technically, she wants me to explain what i was doing with my physics papers, but i didn’t want to talk about that for the same reason i didn’t want to continue it right now—effectively doing it all day instead of just half a day—it required a lot of brain power. but listening to what Ursula had to say was pleasant—as long as she didn’t talk too much about how evil republicans are—i already have some notion of that. i wanted to talk, through Ursula, to my 5D self—he was the one that had all the information. according to my theory it was possible to talk to the other side because things couple together and resonate, and vice versa.
i wondered what Ursula was doing with all the free time she had because of the shutdown—besides directing government workers to free meals if they needed them. was she learning anything, however subconsciously, about me and how to communicate with me? i think she, on some level, was interested in me, as a telepathic friend, anyhow. I wondered, too, though, if she was also communicating, in her own way, with the other side. If she was, then she might’ve had some notion that she had a soul mate out there—someone to wait for or look out for in the event that her relationship with her man was not as sturdy as they might’ve wanted it to be.
i could feel hunger pangs—sometimes, when my work for the day had gone extra well, i wanted to stop ploughing ahead (writing poetry and this, here) and eat until i was stuffed. But that, of course, would’ve made it impossible for me to do anything else but sit, daydream, and be stuffed—and there was too much time left in the day to do that; furthermore, i tried, usually, to eat until i was full, not exactly until i was stuffed. and i did get full, when i ate, so i think i was eating the right amount, even if i might’ve liked to lose ten pounds—but i might’ve enjoyed eating, for now, too much to finish my day without a bang; satisfying a deep-seated hunger that, throughout the day, kept me sharp.
i had to tune back into Ursula—it takes a moment, but she and the people behind her, after all, were my audience, and it was important to write what she wanted me to write—since, as it happens, she’s my link to perfection. Right now i could think of nothing but this food truck that Ursula was directing people too—my work, in many ways, was like food, so it was no great leap for me to think that, yes, i am making progress—the future is beginning to respond as if i am already there in some way, shape, or form. I had some déjà vu today, too, which, is when, as i imagine it, the future overlaps with the present, as if what you’re doing, in the present, has been done, already, in the future.
that raised an interesting question, of course. how much of what i was writing came from other people reading my writing in the future? but i decided that, in some sense, yes, that might’ve been happening, but that could only happen if i had already written it. So basically what was going on was deeper than that—i was communicating, telepathically, with those that were reading my work—we were sharing information about ourselves, and the steps we should take moving forward. With love, then, i forward this marvelous day to Ursula—such that she, too, can reap the benefits of the future—the future that she (and i think she knows it) represents.