Divine love? yes, divine love stood between me and nihilism and the addictions that went a long with it. But what about this new-fangled addiction to soda pop and sparkling water? Would my teeth be ultra-sensitive when i went to the dentist? Would I get a whiff (or more) of excruciating pain? What this came down to was: I still doubted that God exists a fair amount, even if a greater percentage of my heart and mind believed that he certainly does exist. Now—if my meds were doing what they were supposed to do—and i felt good—then i had no reason to doubt His existence; but I did, and that is the crux of the biscuit. I felt bad about this—and that made me doubt His existence even more because it made me feel worse. So, what? All of this means something—I stand by that, no matter the lesser doubt that I feel. And that keeps me on my meds—and sober, and, when the time comes, a function of compromise.
It is the doubt that I feel that makes divine love so magical and, at the same time, real. Because it would seem to be too good to be true; but nothing can be too good to be true if we know what’s best for us—and we believe in Him and the events we attend. Therefore Ursula’s mixed feelings about God didn’t bother me—because I knew she, at times, felt bad, and punished herself for getting down about that. That meant that she always left a light on for His love to build up her spirit and make her invincible to those that would ridicule her and hate her. Why did they hate her? Because she represented the end of white male dominance, not only for our country, but, indeed, for the entire planet, especially once the melting pot, and the people we love, are factored into the equation.
you’re so good to me, “that’s because I love you—in every sense of the word.” Yeah, but it’s more than that. Now, I believed that the more you suffered in life, the more you worried the cosmic enforcers, the djinns, the hologram like shades that appear in the next life and force us to balance our cosmic checkbooks, so to speak. That meant a greater sense of security—because, even in heaven, you had your doubts about heaven, even if, overall, you didn’t believe that hell, and the people that went there to live, were real. That’s because, in that realm, people do, or, that is to say, the people we imagined to be real, do, on occasion, turn back to the void, and shift out of the existence that theretofore we perceived. Nobody wanted to discover that their husband had been a djinn all their life—a function of their minds, that, for whatever reasons, they believed was real. Didn’t they, indeed, believe that their love was real? Which begs the question—can you love a djinn? A sprite? If the love was real, then, eventually, that djinn would turn out not to be a djinn, but, rather, a traveler from some other realm that was as real or nonreal as anything else.
“Yes, divine love” – the kind that overrides our fears and makes us extremely happy in the life to come—even if, well, in the next life, it is possible, over time, to become increasingly happy due to the fact that everybody lives with some degree of fear that they are not real. Because other people, sometimes, do not turn out to be real—or, if they are real, they disappear anyhow—back into an ether that changes you—such that, even if you did come back, you’d come back different—you wouldn’t exactly be your old self—you’d be aligned with the realm that, in your absence, has changed. You’ve got it all figured out and, well, i wouldn’t say that, but I certainly had some things figured out, and some of that came from doing “just that” for a long time; no wasted energy—just a man and his counting and his chants that opened a portal, between the bars, to the next dimension.
What can i say? Watching Ursula on screen made me want to stop watching because I wanted to believe so much in our connection that i doubted it. I felt, in a sense, that if I didn’t maintain a realistic attitude, I would curse the union that I so wanted to experience. That meant keeping myself from forming an attachment to someone that, without my meds, I might end up thinking was speaking to me through the bulk—that was actually, already living with me through the bulk—that she, undoubtedly was the one, and no other would exist behind her—the true woman of my dreams. I didn’t want to shut that woman out, because that woman, as it happens, might turn out to be Ursula. Doubt is a powerful thing, and, because there is no limit to how we could feel, doubt is there to remind us that yes, a different reality, for me, might necessarily exist, and, therefore, I cannot be 100 percent miserable because my life would seem meaningless—there is always the complex possibility that things can get better, and, if they get worse, well, we know, already, that things can get better, especially if our lives prove to be meaningful, and indicative of a higher power that backs that up—that makes everything mean something all the time, an afterlife, and necessarily so.