THE WONDERFUL WELL WROUGHT LIGHTS THAT LIVE ALSO IN PERFECT CHAOS

The entire city bustles (well some sleep I suppose), and the cars and trucks go past. The tracks are quiet, yes, but the busses with their airbrakes. A million years or more ago I sat in the back of old Chevrolets and was driven. I stared out the windows at the lights of the city and felt an immense bliss mixed with terror for this was existence and existence was intense! It was easy and hard. Easy because I had it made back there literally and metaphorically. Nobody to bother me as I stared out and out at the infinite city lights. Hard because I had just arrived a few years previously on the earth,- not an alien, not an ascended master, just a person- but just arrived nonetheless- and…I had to wear those itchy and too tight long johns. Well, fast-forward and I can see new lights,- they are by a Tai or some other such like restaurant- on little trees,- and they keep the lights up a long time. I snuck down there and caught a few pictures. The world can be marvelous, just wonderful in the Canadian night of lights and cold and wind and the street with its traffic and the little walkway. We never went to that restaurant and there was and is nothing keeping us from it. We should go there!- but you get into grooves and even when you go somewhere you go somewhere else. We should make a point of going there- and what would be inside,- would there be soft lights and kind people and interesting dishes with soul and spices? Who and what would meet us? Its hard to know. Well, the lights, they make for a universe,- there in the cold,- and I imagine each one, green, red, blue, white, yellow?- a peculiar and interesting place with little people living inside and above. Each one is a world. I should name them, but that could be the job of another soul. Ya- the entire city bustles and I think if I had a choice I would like to dream a dream of living in and amongst the world of colored lights.

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THE MAN, HIS MOTHER, AND HER SISTER

There was the man, in the astral plane, in the other world, wearing jeans and a regular shirt, and he was about aged thirty. His hair was medium length and medium brown, and could be said to be kind of longish I suppose. But…not in the way that one would presume, but only because that was the style in the 1970’s, a certain style, or lack thereof rather. And he was looking off to the side. There was something he did not know, a secret, and he had found it out. Yet, he was not acrimonious on the one hand to the idea, and nor was he elated- mostly just shocked. What else. Behind, was a lady, who was ethnic, Mediterranean, but her skin was so dark it almost appeared as if she was black. She was kind, and I can’t remember now if it was her that was crying or the lady beside her. Oh, - it was the lady beside her, - which was her sister. The lady beside her was the man’s mother, - crying, and her skin was a bit lighter. All three were dead, and overall happy and well adjusted to the astral plane, to the next part of their journey. But the sadness and shock was about the boy. What else? Hmmm……….they seemed like good people, not peasants, but a tiny wee bit higher. Definitely not bourgeoisie, - but a bit above peasants, for lack of a better word. They were salt of the earth, - which is the highest compliment or among the highest compliment that can be paid to someone or a group of people. And that was about it. The man, his mother, and her sister. Supporting one another, - in the other world, - perhaps as they did in life. It sounds romantic, and it is a bit romantic I suppose. Most people would think it’s a far flung imagination, or worse! - Some kind of desperation or illness. But that is okay. They shall see one day, but not any day soon. Well, those were good folks, and if you can’t meet ‘em down by a lake or up on a nice green hill for a summer BBQ, - take heart, and invest no worry,- for it seems that there is something to the idea that goes something like this: If you were meant to, there will be a way. I might add if could be far and far and far from an any way you supposed or could have conceived (conceived, lol), - a way far from any orthodoxy or ‘regular’ route.

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