The mind has no where to start off helping me to write about myself; it is totally baffled at the idea of condensing life to a particular conglomerate of cells.
Most incidences that I treated as mine and ready to carve in stone, time stamped, labelled important, unimportant, foolish, mistake, award winner, cherished prize; some even archive and oops- buried ones too, seem irrelevant with each inhale and exhale and at the same time all too fresh to call history or even memory and old enough to have past on from generation to generation. None is exclusively mine or theirs... we all contributed to most of them. The most astonishing are the ones I stamped ‘life threatening’ and ‘perfumed with death’ were in fact the ones incensed with the resin of life as they transformed to life altering hoorays that yielded amazing result. I was determined to rewrite the beliefs that provoked the overgrowth of ignorance in effort to preserve descendents from its purgatory.
Learning history helps to unlearn history so as to rewrite history and make history, which is constantly changing history. Lots written; lots more still unwritten yet already written. What has happened is happening and the beat goes on and on and on and history continues to unfold. The music changes the same notes are the same as always have been.
Sorting through the records designed by time and space can be so time consuming and limiting. Maybe for starters, I shall acknowledge that I have my very own life, with live, direct access to its source and provider anytime, anywhere. That seems like a good starting point, which now brings me to a turning point. I am still interdependent on the whole even the history of the whole; that reverses its need to be considered archaic; at least in the imaginative writer’s mind.
Writing my own history brings me in tune with the reality that I do not even have a history; maybe that is evidence that OmniGod is constantly renewing me to its image so I can have full knowledge of the Great I AM. That’s reassuring and gives meaning to life and makes death and dying a solace to the living and the dead. If nothing else, this helps me make sense of the message behind Jesus’ life story.
Not frozen to think the same as yesterday or behave in ways that no longer serves pilgrim's purpose on higher ground, just to uphold some theory of genetic and hereditary disposition trapped in volumes of statistical and empirical evidence manufactured by surveys and parameters design to bound the soul, is very liberating.
The most ancient part of me is bright awareness so long as I choose to remove the chronological cloak of space and time that force life into finite formulae. What exactly is one attempting to capsulate when writing history when every breath I take every move I make is already recorded somewhere in ad finitum. Distinguishing the starting point of the circle is useless- each day, every event and all time present opportunities for ending, continuations, beginnings. History is not something old! It is experienced in taking on the madness seasoned with gladness; wise, always fresh and bursting with unsurprising surprises; of course to some that is uncharacteristic. Who cares!
These masses of molecules endured curse of doom, delusion, damned, DSM IV categories 1, 2, 3 and 4, trickled down effect long. This was nothing but blatant disregard of the creative and restorative power of God.
The ripple effect of fine tuning balance in all areas of my life is restoring health in areas that were attacked by the wand of medicinal spell a.k.a diagnosis of life long disorder, inherited and genetic disease … disorder, inherited and genetic disease my foot!
Now that’s worth recording for present day relevance to history and history’s modern day relevance!
Most incidences that I treated as mine and ready to carve in stone, time stamped, labelled important, unimportant, foolish, mistake, award winner, cherished prize; some even archive and oops- buried ones too, seem irrelevant with each inhale and exhale and at the same time all too fresh to call history or even memory and old enough to have past on from generation to generation. None is exclusively mine or theirs... we all contributed to most of them. The most astonishing are the ones I stamped ‘life threatening’ and ‘perfumed with death’ were in fact the ones incensed with the resin of life as they transformed to life altering hoorays that yielded amazing result. I was determined to rewrite the beliefs that provoked the overgrowth of ignorance in effort to preserve descendents from its purgatory.
Learning history helps to unlearn history so as to rewrite history and make history, which is constantly changing history. Lots written; lots more still unwritten yet already written. What has happened is happening and the beat goes on and on and on and history continues to unfold. The music changes the same notes are the same as always have been.
Sorting through the records designed by time and space can be so time consuming and limiting. Maybe for starters, I shall acknowledge that I have my very own life, with live, direct access to its source and provider anytime, anywhere. That seems like a good starting point, which now brings me to a turning point. I am still interdependent on the whole even the history of the whole; that reverses its need to be considered archaic; at least in the imaginative writer’s mind.
Writing my own history brings me in tune with the reality that I do not even have a history; maybe that is evidence that OmniGod is constantly renewing me to its image so I can have full knowledge of the Great I AM. That’s reassuring and gives meaning to life and makes death and dying a solace to the living and the dead. If nothing else, this helps me make sense of the message behind Jesus’ life story.
Not frozen to think the same as yesterday or behave in ways that no longer serves pilgrim's purpose on higher ground, just to uphold some theory of genetic and hereditary disposition trapped in volumes of statistical and empirical evidence manufactured by surveys and parameters design to bound the soul, is very liberating.
The most ancient part of me is bright awareness so long as I choose to remove the chronological cloak of space and time that force life into finite formulae. What exactly is one attempting to capsulate when writing history when every breath I take every move I make is already recorded somewhere in ad finitum. Distinguishing the starting point of the circle is useless- each day, every event and all time present opportunities for ending, continuations, beginnings. History is not something old! It is experienced in taking on the madness seasoned with gladness; wise, always fresh and bursting with unsurprising surprises; of course to some that is uncharacteristic. Who cares!
These masses of molecules endured curse of doom, delusion, damned, DSM IV categories 1, 2, 3 and 4, trickled down effect long. This was nothing but blatant disregard of the creative and restorative power of God.
The ripple effect of fine tuning balance in all areas of my life is restoring health in areas that were attacked by the wand of medicinal spell a.k.a diagnosis of life long disorder, inherited and genetic disease … disorder, inherited and genetic disease my foot!
Now that’s worth recording for present day relevance to history and history’s modern day relevance!
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