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.
I’m finally bothered by the mistake enough to explain myself. Not that it really matters.
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.
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.
All this sounds crazy, right?
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.
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.