It’s its 

I write using my phone, though I prefer to use my computer. I can’t connect my computer to the internet at home, so I’m at the mercy of autocorrect. And autocorrect has worse grammar than I do. If I were diligent, I’d catch those details right away. But I’m not, so I don’t.

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I’m finally bothered by the mistake enough to explain myself. Not that it really matters.

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I went to San Francisco a couple of times in high school and got to know the city fairly well. My friend and I roamed about and collected a lot of really great memories. We went with her mom to dowsing conventions in Santa Cruz and met a lot of interesting people. The one person that stands out in my mind was an alien, or a man who was convinced he was an alien. 

I knew a little about astrology and palm reading and card reading and other things I can’t remember the names of. White lights. All kinds of things. I know how to rid a house of unwelcome spirits. I should offer my services to the new owners of the house on the corner of my old street. 

I go back and forth on a lot of that stuff. I believe there’s something, but I don’t know what it is. I believe in God/Jesus, but I’ve never been able to reconcile his existence with the rest. Not well, anyway. Throw in a physics degree or two, and things get even weirder. Especially with how philosophical modern physics can get.

Matter and energy are interchangeable in a way. That’s science. And it borders on mysticism. 

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I absolutely believe that there are no coincidences. Everything is connected. 

But I also believe that some things should be left alone. 

Some people are more sensitive than others. It’s the super sensitive people who must take care.

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All this sounds crazy, right?

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I have a difficult time making sense of it all, so I start and end with “God invented it.” That way my brain doesn’t hurt so much. 
But I have a lot to know still about all that stuff God invented. And I’m learning slowly. I stopped asking “why” a long time ago. It got me nowhere. It’s easier to just learn the what. But I sometimes get lucky and the why presents itself.

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I’m probably going to write a lot of disconnected stuff that doesn’t sound like me, because I feel that burning need to write but my brain has overheated. I’m two thumbs and a broken head.

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Author: uncaged

When Picasso painted a blue Seated Woman in a Chair, he was unconsciously thinking of me.

4 thoughts on “It’s its ”

  1. I’ve struggled with reconciling God/Jesus with the rest too.
    Spira contends that:
    1. Consciousness (a term he uses interchangeably with “awareness,” and sometimes with “God”) is infinite
    2. The body/mind is finite
    3. The body/mind is self-aware, is conscious
    4. Something finite cannot appear within something infinite, or else it would displace a little bit of infinite-ness, and the infinite would no longer be infinite
    5. Consciousness in the finite body/mind is a localization of infinite consciousness. In other words, infinite consciousness coalesces in the body/mind without becoming the body/mind, and without being displaced by it. It’s as if a whirlpool has formed. Before the body/mind, there was no whirlpool, and when the body/mind dies, the whirlpool disperses, but the substance of the whirlpool is still there.
    If this is true, it explains a lot of things. Like coincidences. Or the notion of the son of God entering the wold and experiencing estrangement and suffering.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Now you’ve got me hooked.

      It’s funny for someone with my background to say this, but I need to be more open minded about this stuff. I believe some of it whole-heartedly despite my unwillingness to accept the possibilities. I deny some of it because I can’t make heads or tails of it. I think a lot, too, is that I’ve witnessed so much weird stuff and have been around a lot of people who were … off. I got to a point where it was a joke to me.

      I think rather than sitting in my corner with my hypocrite hat on, I should listen. I like to think of myself as a philosopher of sorts, but I don’t let myself be one. I think the kid in me is a little afraid, too. There’s a line I don’t want to cross. But I don’t really know what that line is. It’s one I saw or felt or both when I was little, and it scared me. I can’t tell whether it was a rational fear. I was a kid. So I should listen with an adult mind. Then again, kids are more sensitive to this stuff, as in they have a greater and more accurate sense of discernment.
      ….

      This is me grappling with old ghosts. Pun intended.

      Like

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