BEING THROUGHOUT HISTORY

One thing I am aware of is that I have lived numerous lives throughout history, a number of which I do remember though not completely. There are some dates, some names, some vivid memories, some of which have even been corroborated, though I do not say this to prove anything to be true, but to imply that they were in fact real and that I have in fact experienced myriad lives, and not only earthly ones.

When I read history my memory is stirred if I happened to be in that moment, that time, that place. It is as though I not only knew some of these people but that I was one of them. One of my lives is known in history, the many others are not. I have remembered details in some instances that are most defining. To realize that I have been present in this way throughout human history does not give insight so much as it does compassion for the human condition itself. To be succinct, I have traveled the path of a Roman centurian who escorted Jesus Christ to Pontius Pilate to a rabbi at Treblinka. We have been there and back and have close memories that can only be conveyed as stories.

THE PROBLEM IS...

For a while now I have been gathering and organizing and attempting to edit writing I have done over the last twenty years or so which amounts to literally thousands of pages for the purpose of writing and publishing a book. But the problem is that I am used to writing every day, as if I am drawing up water from a very deep well that I use to quench my thirst. As interesting or as quenching my earlier writing may be or have been for me, such memories or old creations do not quench my need to draw from this deep well.

So I am compelled to say so here and now. The book needs to be organized, edited and published, but I am already stuck on just what of my journal entries I want to include. I tend to write personally within a philosophical context, probably so that I am able to observe who it is that is actually writing and what he is actually saying. I don't write to entertain; I write to share something of value, something that adds to one's understanding and comprehension not only of oneself but of oneself in one's life and in the world. I don't know exactly how or why but what I write needs to be written and not just for my own fulfillment and/or expression. 

If one descends into a deep cavern full of treasure everywhere but which can only be transformed into words, into thoughts, one desires to take it with him or her back to the surface. But that's quite an inadequate metaphor. If one eats of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, one then understands something of the Knowledge of Good and Evil and what that means. Such understanding is as a treasure to be shared to the good of all. I seem to be saying that I have eaten of this tree and have attained some kind of knowledge not known in general. I have but I don't know exactly what it is. It is in the telling of the story that it is imparted to those who are interested and able to listen. It has to be made available. It is very difficult and tiring to have to decipher one's own wisdom since it does not arise out of oneself but rather through oneself. Such wisdom may be called "spiritual" but it is not limited to that nor is it specifically religious at all.