“I was born ready,” he says.
“Will you die ready?” I reply.
On Tuesday night, my mother told me for the first time that she died as a five-year-old child.
She storytold being at the bottom of the pool, a shadow breeching the surface, and a darkness swimming toward her.
The next thing she remembers is looking down at people hovering around her body. She’s high enough in the air to see the pool and the crowd.
Everyone’s in a panic. A scream.
She does not miss being in her body. She knows a warmth of Light.
Then she regains first-person perspective in the body of her five-year-old self.
She feels the pain in her chest while someone compresses it. She coughs up water and someone leans her to a side.
She remembers their faces wore masks of horror.
I remember being thrown into a pool as a young one, hmm, maybe I was my five-years-old self.
I used to flashback into that fear I felt wayback then = Emotional time traveling.
I remember resonating hell on earth and in my heart.
I’ll never forget kicking my legs and willing myself toward those steps. I remember my shin hitting that plaster so hard I can’t forget thanks to emotional time travel.
On Tuesday afternoon, I connected with an aging-out woman wearing big hair and a purple sweater.
She thanks me for everything.
Then I tell her what I wanted to tell her before we shared our first words on that three-hour-flight.
I tell her that I can just feel her Spirit.
“Are you a Believer?” she says.
“I am a man of Faith,” I say.
I will never forget this woman’s Light shining bright.
Speak the things you must release.
“Will your ego die before your body?” I ask.
“Work in progress,” I reply.
I remember 20-years-ago when I left my body, floated through my bedroom door, rounded the bar’s corner instead of going through it, and observed a darkness on the kitchen’s wall.
A black hole.
I remember knowing the unknown hole would bring something I shouldn’t know.
I immediately desired to return to my body, so I snapped back in a rubberband prayer.
Another year, I remember thinking how cool it would be to see a ghost or entity of some kind, until I saw my first ghost or entity of some kind.
So I closed this door until I was ready for more intros.
Challenge what you’ve been taught.
Love what you know.
Love who you are.
Last week, I said to son, “I logged into Facebook the other day for the first time in a long time, and I hated it. I know people are just showing themselves, and I get it, but it looks like the same thing over and over.”
I activate an unnatural voice and continue, “Look where we went. Look at us posing irregular toward the lens. Look at me saying something about someone else, and then look at me,” I say.
Freeze frame: Please recognize I have does all of these FB things. Also, that prior paragraph is what my fellow sapiens may look at as “passing judgment.”
Please know: I’m taking more of the scientific approach on this one = I am the observer.
I’m not just watching them or watching them watch themselves… I’m window watching myself watch me watch them watch themselves.
This is me. This is what I look like.
Sometimes I can’t believe I’m offering you peels of my real pieces.
Do you believe what you’re feeling?
Do you trust yourself?
Do you trust others?
Do you have peels that no one’s ever seen? Do you reveal your pieces faux reals?
For realz, I’m showing you minez.
Aren’t we Divine?
Last year, a friend told me she’s tried to kill herself. She cried.
Also, last year, a man I knew killed himself. This church pastor left behind a wife and two young ones.
This lost-man roamed my mind the week leading up to his self-inflicted game-over, and that’s despite zero connections in years – except I never reached out despite his heart being in my head.
Trust we can change this place.
* Reboot required if untruth in prior sentence.
We are built for death.
And we are meant to see other builds end.
I lost my Pop and I barely malfunctioned after his unexpected expiration.
But was his exit unforeseen?
Life is designed to end.
Life is designed to decay.
Life is designed to break.
Life is designed to dissolve.
I’m showing you me again. How do I look?
Isn’t this what we want? To connect in the exposures?
Be true to your closest Ones.
A man I love lost his child.
His lost child was a strong, young man. A car drove through a tree before killing this lost child and breaking his dad’s heart.
But rebuilds are possible.
Because this father has found and experienced many things in the aftermath of his lost child. During one recent South summer day, we both got lost in place, and he shared how he connected with Spirit for the first time.
I once again got to watch his heart resonating with life.
A woman I love lost a child.
The child was still being built inside her body.
I rarely think about this event.
Should we have named our child we never met?
Many humans died this past week.
One-lost-life got broadcast constant across the screens.
Many humans lived this past week.
But did they?
Yes, they inhaled, exhaled, looked around, and navigated the earth, but many of them might as well be dead because their hearts didn’t once resonate with life.
Yet they consumed the news recycling the story about how one-lost-life impacted masses.
They have seen that the Spirit of One can live on despite its host body no longer residing in the physical.
We can change this place.
Are we trying?
Do you want to try with me?
What do we want to make possible?
Impossible = Im possible
Immortal = Im mortal
Many people forget how to live. They stop dreaming – during day and night.
Lives false started.
Lucid living aborted.
Yep, I will die someday.
Of course, so will you.
And as of now, the Death of Self seems to be the fastest path for my consciousness to exit this realm known as earth.
In the meantime, let’s change this place.
And then let’s die ready.