Another person is enraged at me and accusing me of being them. It's about how I clarified the difference between a system of expertise and a gift of God. I believe they consider that to be true whether it screws with their plans for the future or no. They might have to go back to square One to straighten their own way of being out. This person has received gnosis, but chose their highly developed systems of expertise over their gift from God. Nobody wants to know that when they're heavily invested in the former. It makes them real mad. No blame.
I'm borrowing again from the Jung quote about how what one's real religion is, organized or no, is building and maintaining a defense against their experience of God. In this person's case it oughta be real easy to figure out what drove him to become a karate and self-defense expert with all sorts of ribbons and buttons and bows. Whatever experience did drive him to religiously develop this sort of defense system is what God is to him. It's not the sa-me God that imbued him with the gift of gnosis, which is at the root of his anger at me.
The Me is a hell of a thing to be angry at. Nobody wins by getting angry with me. But, I would say that, wouldn't I. '-)
If you read yesterday's entry you might recognize that this guy's anger results from me realizing I've done that myself. I was given this gift during my remembering vision of a extensive personal experiential database that I started using immediately, but didn't recognize it for what it was or respect it the way I should have respected it by using it in exclusivity.
I actually couldn't have. I didn't know what happened was a gift of the very thing I'd been looking for. I kept on looking. It wasn't so much that I was ungrateful. I'll never forget the high points of my remembering vision. That's how I knew it was a vision rather than a dream.
I dreamed of being in some dire situation last night in a dream. I don't remember the situation so much as how it was resolved. I showed up in a Spider man costume, opened the top of my head (which was hinged apparently), and a small motherboard with vacuum tubes appeared, as a powerfully convincing voice said something to the effect that the dire situation I'd just experienced couldn't be all that bad, if I could take my brain out and play with it, so I did. I, robot, all over again.
The colors were exotically beautiful in this dream. The skin tight suit didn't really cover my aging old body, but that of a younger me. Even before I woke up good enough to make my fourth trip to the bathroom to pee, I calculated that the dream was confirming my suspicion that I was a spirit looking for a human experience, rather than being a human looking for a spiritual experience.
I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
