Midnight. Listening to Trinh Cong Son. "Don't lose hope, dear me, don't lose hope..." I just finished rearranging the furniture, a mild compulsive behavior lately. Seven more days, I'll be 33. No big deal. No big accomplishment. No big love. No big money. No big tragedy. Sometimes, I look at myself and wonder. Is this all there is? I start counting my blessings and see their true nature. I see that life is fleeting, humans are weak, memories fade, friendships bloom then wither. In the end, if you have to hold on to anything to make sense of it all, there's only love. I don't think I will ever have such love. Blame it on my personality. So... Seven more days. A strange thing is that I don't feel old anymore. No need to give myself a pep talk. I've become less idealistic, less driven. I still know my purpose in life, though. At 33, Jesus Christ transformed his humanity. I must try to understand mine, then hopefully learn other lessons.
The other night, after my meditation, while I was lying, the familiar surge of vibratory energy rose from my stomach. I saw two visions. A dark sky of violent, stormy black clouds. And pieces of lithograph-like writings appearing, imposing one upon another. No clue!
Ten years ago, when I first experienced the vibe, I saw, actually, I flew in a lotus posture, then hovered above a stream which did not feel real when my hand touched the water. My third eye and several points on my forehead were opened by an inner light. Ten years ago! Scott was the man I cried over... Let's stop. thai ta