as waves upon an endless sea...

That I could know that I have lived for 74 years and know because I actually remember, I actually have clear memories in my body, my mind, my heart, my soul. I have equally clear memories of lives I have lived before, though I have doubt because I cannot prove it was “not just my imagination.” But, considering what I’ve experienced this lifetime and can prove, I actually no doubt about the ones that came before and most likely will come in the future. The soul is on the ride and plunges into this form and that, hopefully with some forethought as to “getting there” and “being here to get there.”

 

I sit with certain intentions, with an open mind of sorts, “waiting on the Lord,” as it were. Now I’m more willing let thoughts come and “let them be”; the computer has to catch up, has to reboot itself, make sense of what has arisen and been absorbed. Then to digest, to organize, which is to have a sense of comprehension in the face of utterly overwhelming complexities. One still must ride the crest of one’s existence. Then the wave rolls over and crashes, one is thrown down, smashed, drowned; then to rise up again to the next crest of the next wave of one’s own existence. And the waves come until the ocean itself fades and vanishes. We are as but waves upon the endless sea.