It Was Seventy Years Ago Today

What I'm trying to describe in regard to what I call "my remembering vision" is the linear history of my genetic heritage. The describer I call me has basically moved from one genetic invention to the next. I have written many times that I "made myself into" a succession of physical entities over a ti-me period of billions of Earth years, but time didn't get invented until we made ourselves into homo sapiens.

You gotta have a language for time to take it's place in matter. Ti-me is all about divide and conquer. In my imagination I see it as a progression started out with two halves of something and then dividing that further into fourths, eighths, sixteens, etc, and eventually the 360 degrees in a circle.

Maybe that's how things work by practicing meditation. Except that when meditating it's unconquering thangs by unity. "Thangs" being the same thing as things, but with a twang to show my humble, dirt po' bejinning and where I'm returning to more swiftly than I like to contemplate and dwell on.

There is a visualization ritual associated with the practice of astrology where the individuated particles of cosmic dust returns to the cosmic soup and the nothingness that allowed them to separate itself one from the other dissipates and London Bridge comes tumbling down... my fair lady.

The London Bridge nursery rhyme has pretty much the sa-me meaning (me-and-thee-ing) as the one about the walls of Jericho, Humpty Dumpty, and the Tower of Babble (Babel). One ritual for dividing to conquer, and another ritual for re-uniting the separated parts in a whole again. Atonement. A shamed man (shaman) needs to have both rituals down pat. A convincing pair of death rattles can dissipate even the most stubborn resistance to change.

Remembering in one visionary event the occasion of every life form you've been or made yourself into gives one a more robust and far reaching perspective of what's wot. What was revealed in vision was the contents of the memory associated with the pearl (soul) when I was thirty years old.

Despite all the plants and animals the pearl has made itself into using the curiosity, volition, and it's accumulated memores (blueprints [like DNA]) it arrived on Earth with, until it organized the whole of what it had made conscious, but without having developed a state of consciousness (conscious of being conscious) in order to step aside and see the treasures they had abstractly stored in the more of their me than the other can see in heaven.

For me this vision was a linear deal. It happened forty years ago today when I turned thirty years old. Well, at least I know that I was thirty years old at the time. I didn't make a bookmark of the exact date it happened to me. I won't be seventy years old until just after sunset. I don't actually celebrate a birthday. I celebrate a birthnight. I lost my birthright about the same time of my life.

It's almost lunch and I still haven't heard from the VA doctor I left a message with. He may never call. Why would he? He thinks he gave me every chance in the world to get in on the stem cell research, but I didn't realize the research was about using one's own stem cells to cure rheumatoid arthritis. What really gripes me is that the methotrexate will probable preclude me from being considered for any other cure that involves stem cells, because the methotrexate appears to contaminate the stem cells in my bone marrow itself. What a drag, man.

One of the more subtle feats of understanding I've ever accomplished is to have finally grokked why the perineum is considered by some as the holiest spot in the human body. It's in that part of the body where the decision to draw each breath is taken. It's where the opera singers reach for the high c notes they sing. Each note they intone happens from that holy spot. It's where the bubbles that burst into the open in the brain originate. In the Book of Changes it is written, "To know the seed is divine in deed."