I was in the bath—having awakened a little early, albeit on accident, leaving time for a bath on a day that I wouldn’t have otherwise taken a bath if i had woken up at my prescribed time, and I projected Ursula’s voice and I heard this: I have a home. My home is not with you. My first reaction left me a little miffed—why would she say such a thing? Who was I talking to? Surely the real Ursula wouldn’t say such a thing, and, I, too, wouldn’t put her on the spot—at least in the ideal realm that I thought belonged to telepathic, and 5D, communications. My initial conclusion, then, was that i’d got my wires a little crossed, and I was hearing from Anna, instead of my Ursula—but it was already understood that Anna most likely wasn’t my Ursula, so I don’t see why I she would have said such a thing—or why I would have posed a question that would have led to such a statement. So I ruled that out.
Then I thought—well, maybe I am speaking to the 4D version, and she’s too young for me right now, and she’s speaking to my desire to be with someone in this life—or maybe i was speaking to someone that was pointing out that the conditions of this life, and my circumstances, must necessarily keep us apart. But, again, I don’t think I would have asked or expected someone that was too young for me to leave their parents and live with me—but maybe my longing was spilling over the brim a little, so I guess that, or that interpretation, was a possibility. My first thought, regarding the other possibility, was to think that—well, if she really is my Ursula, then we would find a way in this life, no matter what, and we would have a home together. But then i thought, well, no, this life is too impossible for us to be together, in this life, no matter what, so perhaps she was just giving me a reality check—that, even if we should meet, at least right now, i couldn’t offer her, and she couldn’t offer me, a livable life.
Then I considered the possibility, too, that I was talking to an Ursula at some point in her existence in which we might’ve been seeing each other, but we lived apart, either because, at some point, that was what we both wanted, or that was what our circumstances required, or both. So, I was a little taken aback by this rejection, since, in some way, shape, or form, she must’ve been speaking to a real desire, on my part, to escape my circumstances, when, in reality, there was no foreseeable change possible. So I asked myself—what do i need to do to keep her from making such statements—which, clearly, arise from a conflict of interest? How do I get rid of that conflict of interest? Since, ideally, we should always be on the same page. But maybe this was indicative of telepathic progress, since we’d moved from mostly agreeable exchanges to something much more complex—something that didn’t just involve hearing what i wanted to hear—which, however true, in those instances, would have represented merely the beginning stages of true, worldly, telepathic communications.
So i was a little let down. I can’t seem to help habitually imagining that my circumstances might change, and I might find love in this life. Likewise, i imagine that, even in heaven, it’s possible to want a little more, at least temporarily, from someone than they have to offer, since, even in heaven, we must be people with real feelings that are subject to change. And, while I imagine in heaven, when we break up, we are never truly unhappy, since we would both be going in the mutually beneficial, heavenly direction, a direction that would lead, ultimately, to a new, and more relevant, love, I also imagine that, for some infinitesimal moment, one of us would find ourselves longing for space, and one of us, for an infinitesimal moment, would be let down. The difference between 5D and 4D being, then, the degree to which we are let down, and the fact that, in 5D, we are destined to find someone else, and we know that we are destined to find someone else, so there is no reason to fear what, in 4D, is a real possibility—that we might never find ourselves in a comparable relationship again, and, furthermore, we may never stop wanting that, either.
But, even in this life, there are advantages to rejection. Some other Ursula, or even this same Ursula, at some other point in time, might find my longing desirable, since, as the case may be, circumstances could change, and, even if they didn’t, that attraction could carry over into 5D. Add that to the fact that my realities, as a dependent artist with no commercial prospects, are discussed, in detail, in my work, and that many more people might be able to relate to a somewhat restless soul, and it seemed, that, well, in the long run, things could work out in my favor. After all, did anybody really want to hear about how successful and happy you were, when, in fact, in this imperfect life, we never quite live up to the life we, at some point, might’ve imagined for ourselves? Don’t we all start out at the center of the universe, and, as time goes on, begin to realize, successful or not, that our lives aren’t exactly going as planned? So doesn’t it seem more likely, then, that people would want to invest in someone that they can relate to, someone that doesn’t live a seemingly perfect life—someone, on the contrary, that, just like everybody else, struggles, in some way shape, or form, to survive, and realize themselves?