I’d changed my mind about the speed of light and relativity, etc.  As eternal beings, it seemed to me we always, instantaneously, know the alphabet, and how to read and write, and so I concluded that all souls, and all we will ever discover, on earth, is available to us, and it always has been, both in the preexistence and the afterlife.  Therefore I concluded that we’ve always known the speed of light, that our knowledge of the 4D measurement has always been with us, just as we’ve always known the alphabet, and we always will.  I thought, too, if we forget about the experiment, we could turn to an acceptable AI and get the answer.  As such, I thought, “All will be revealed,” such that, all the mysteries of science would be revealed in the next life, that only our creations would be genuinely “new,” and that, furthermore, when it came to other languages, etc., I concluded that if we needed to speak it, if we were with someone that did, and wanted to, then we would be able to speak it, instantaneously, as if we’d always known it, even if we never learned it.  I decided all this to be true—that it made a little more sense than thinking we would constantly forget and relearn things, since, as I saw it, we always knew the alphabet, for example, and, therefore, we must have already known everything else we needed and wanted to know, too.  And if we chose to go back to a time without computers, then, for a time, we would do that by choice, and, having decided, as a community, to do without, we would.  But whatever knowledge we already had about computers, and the future, etc., would remain with us, and, when, as a community, we decided we needed a computer, and the internet, well, the technology would be there. 

    Indeed, yesterday, I felt that I might overheat, so, after painting, for the rest of the afternoon, I put my clock away.  I could still hear the clock on the wall if I listened for it, but it was in the background and I didn’t pay much attention to it.  But I’m listening to my clock now, and, I think I will, throughout the morning, unless I change my mind, and decide to listen to it for half the morning, and part of the afternoon.  Yesterday, I had just two teaspoons of coffee and one Dr. Pepper, and I got to sleep okay, although I woke up early, couldn’t go back to sleep, and decided to take another bath.  The fist sixteen stanzas of “Chevy Chase” are getting a little tiresome, so I’m thinking of adding the first however many stanzas of “Tam Lin” back into my repertoire.  But that would take a little time—and, if all goes well, I won’t be waking up at 6:00 am and getting in the bath at 6:30 or so.  I’ll be sleeping until 7:30 or 8:00, and reciting my lines, and, if I feel like it, saying my prayers, every so often, from my bed.  I felt a little impatient in the bath today—in part because “Chevy Chase” had gotten tiresome, and, in part, because I didn’t have a lot of daydreams passing through my mind.  I ended up mainly just wondering how, if the next life was, is, and will be eternal, when, exactly, the speed of light, or special relativity was tested, for example, and how that worked.

    Well, my back was more relaxed, yesterday, but my heart was beating a little too fast all day, and on into the night, and i had some trouble sleeping.  So I promised myself I was going to cut back to two heaping two spoons instead of four heaping teaspoons—because if the caffeine kept me from sleeping, then, zen morning or no zen morning, the caffeine had to be reduced.  I’d managed pretty well so far, as I’d skipped the cup I had yesterday before shaving, so I was on one cup, now, and it was 9:28 am.  So by the time I finished this cup, I’d have another, I guess around 10:15, and then I’d switch to Dr. Pepper at eleven, and have two Dr. Peppers, which, i’m thinking, and hoping, will correct the problem.  I also wonder if listening to my clock all day might have caused me to overheat a little; I felt a little under pressure throughout the day, so, I’m listening to my clock now, but if I listen to it all day remains to be seen.  I’ll just have to play it by ear.  I’d made another adjustment, too.  I did have a bath this morning, as I was up around 6:30 AM with no chance of going back to sleep, and, when it came time to say my prayer, which I don’t always do, I used my voice instead of Ursula’s voice—so I’d decided to go back to my voice when going about my day.  I’d use Ursula’s voice while sitting at the computer, or while writing some of the literature I write, but, it seemed, I’d recovered Ursula’s voice as best I could, and that, in using her voice alone, I might have been ignoring my true self.

    You might be thinking, well, I know you wrote many books that might be considered both tedious and pretentious, books that didn’t make sense, books that were absurdist, etc.  And it’s true, I did.  But they weren’t necessarily high brow.  They were absurdist.  Some people are into that kind of thing—and, if you’re not, don’t read that—read this.  I’d written a little something for everyone, or at least I’ve tried to, and by that I mean that I can’t shake being me, so, if you don’t like me, or you’re bothered by an ambiguous sexuality, or an array of existential and philosophical topics, then you probably won’t like my work.  But if you do like me, and you have, on occasion, asked some big questions, then I think you would like my work—you just might not like all of it.  You might only like one particular period, for example, or even just one, or two, particular books.  But I didn’t consider my work to be high brow—i figured, you could study it on a collegiate level, but you didn’t need to.  You could go into it as if you were stoned, or, simply, because you could identify with me and my thoughts, my life.

    So how could a 5D coordinate be related to both 4D coordinates in 5D and 4D coordinates in 4D?  Well the 5D universe embeds, or surrounds, the 4D universe, in the same way that space embeds, or surrounds, the earth.  So the 4D universe curves into the 5D universe, although, for us, the surface of the earth would be two dimensional.  So, just as we have coordinates on earth, latitude and longitude, that would be meaningless without the earth, so, too, we have coordinates in the 4D universe that would be meaningless without the 4D universe, and yet, at the same time, our position, on earth, can be given universal, three dimensional coordinates.  So my paintings could have some existence at a particular latitude and longitude with respect to a 4D universe, and, also, some existence on a different, universal, three dimensional grid with respect to 5D. 

   Turned the heat up a little in the shower—i miss the relaxed, focused, measured mornings i had when taking a bath; so i think i won’t turn the fan on tomorrow, and make the place my own little fifteen minute sauna, as I shower and shave.  So, too, i find myself, in spite of my dehumidifier, listening for the sound of my clock, and writing this, now, at 9:26 AM, as opposed to noon, or after painting, often in the late afternoon.  There can be a special kind of zen that goes with the morning hours, when the mind is both fresh, and, having reset itself, leaving you, at that time in your life, to your true self—still unaffected by the oncoming events, and the drama, of the day.  In this moment, recovering some of that zen, potentially tapping into my bath zen without taking a bath, seemed more important than securing some increment of knowledge or theory that would back up my faith.  At this moment, instead, it seemed more important to simply be, to engage my faith through meditation, and faith alone.  I think this might have something to do with what I’ve been missing: i’ve been so determined to make sense of the universe, and prove my faith, that i’ve been neglecting faith itself—faith as it’s own form of science, it’s own path, in and of itself.  I need, i think, to practice mindfully setting my doubts, and my logic, aside, in order to grow spiritually, in order to believe based on belief, and the feelings i get when I believe, or choose to believe, something in a certain way. 

  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.

    I woke up an hour early and played with the idea of taking a bath and listening to my clock—to try and get back on track.  But that would have put me almost an hour behind, and, besides, i didn’t know if i had the patience anymore, at this time, to sit in a bath long enough to really get something out of it.  But without my metronome—and regulating my breathing, i felt a little estranged from myself—as if i needed some degree of meditation, and the help of a ticking clock, to really regulate, and get centered.  So i brought my clock close to my computer, where, if i listened closely, I could make it out over the sound of the dehumidifier, which i ran, in the basement, with me, in the mornings, when it was warm outside.  I wished i could hear it a little better, for this, but i was anxious to listen to my clock, and incorporate more meditation into my writing, right now.  That meant that i took a breath for three seconds and exhaled for three seconds when i was paying enough attention to it, which was a little longer than I normally breathe.  When i was living in Mormon town, after having lost my mind, and continuing, over time, to lose my mind, I used to listen to the clock all the time, and count a three count, a four count, or an extended count—inhale in for four seconds and exhale out for eight seconds.  Despite losing my mind, and listening to the clock too much, I still believe that it was the clock, and my mindful, regulated, measured breathing, that made it possible for me to tap into the 5D universe—and many of the ideas that i still draw from today.  The life, then, was an experiment born out of a desperate attempt to both occupy myself and maintain my sanity, and, although i went off the deep end, the experiment, in and of itself, led to valuable results.

    Counting, one, two, and three . . . and here we are.  It seemed to me that, in heaven, extradimensional travel would be that simple—that our neurons and our nerves would produce a magnetic field, and that we could sense what frequencies to project, use our magnetic field to bend them, and, as such, transfer 5D momentum, and ourselves, to the desired coordinate.  And food?  yeah, part of living as a function of consciousness, as opposed to consciousness being a function of living, meant that all our needs were instantaneously provided for by the 5D field.  The continuum of our consciousness.  Our fridges always remained stocked—you didn’t need to order things online, you just needed a clear idea of what you wanted—and it would appear.  Consciousness was the difference between 5D and 4D.  In 5D we are the product and the components of consciousness—the product and the components of the 5D field.  We, as the centers of our individual universes, define the universe—where as, in 4D, all too often, it’s the other way around.  Consciousness is the product and the component of an individual life—and that life is limited.

    Several days had passed since i’d checked in—i’d done some short poems and some six stanza rhyming poems, and posted them on social media, which is probably as close as I was ever really going to get to being read—barring some dramatic stroke of luck, which i’d given up counting on.  But that was nice in and of itself—i didn’t get a lot of attention, but the attention i did get could be very positive—which made me think that, if i did get published to a wider audience, then I would have an audience, if they could find me.  You’re here for me, now.  Watching Anna on social media—thinking, well, she’s actually a normal person, she won’t be attractive to me in several years, after she gets a little older, after what, for most people, means the inevitable addition of what would otherwise be deemed too much weight.  That she’d already lost some of her appeal, and i had to wonder: did that have anything to do with the fact that I wasn’t relying on her voice as much?  I thought it was a good thing to use her voice, still; it was a part of my telepathic process, but when the writing took a back seat, so did my telepathic process.