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Last night I got very excited while casually watching a ScienceNow PBS program. The host, who is just another science drama queen like Bill Nye, the science guy, is fairly obnoxious, but not as much as the rest of the crap shows I get with my over-the-air TV reception. The part of the program that excited me featured some professor at SUNY named Andre Fenton.
This guy came to his conclusions by resorting to the same experiences I went to like using a float tank and psychedelic drugs, but unlike me, he got a PHD in biochemistry and proved that the genetic system contains the contents I have written about in describing my "remembering vision".
I'm real pleased he did that. Now I don't have to try to convince anybody else or myself that what I experienced was quite real. On the other hand, I don't get the idea that he actually saw what I saw in my remembering vision, but he hardly had a chance to explain himself. That might take time away from the drama queen host who reminds me of Pinky Lee.
It's not like I'm surprised I'm letting this pass without much commentary. Just this last week I seemed to have reached a decision to not go there anymore. Last night at the height of my excitement I told myself I'd sleep on it and write about it here today to see what comes out, but these are not drifting thoughts I need to capture with words anymore due to the work of Andre Fenton, who made my experience scientific fact.
It's a good thing the temperature went back down. After all, there is still another month and a few days until Spring. It got down to around freezing which reminded me that cold actually means cold. Damn!
I worked on my bed last night. The two inch (5 cm) memory foam pad I bought lifted the overall height of my mattress surface such that the covers were pressing down on my toes when I lay on my back. The rheumatoid arthritis in my foot bones don't appreciate that, and I had to raise the jury-rigged chipboard thingamajig I built to get those covers off my afflicted parts.
It wasn't a Herculean task. The bedstead is about a hundred years old, and was probably the cheapest thing on the market when it's previous owners bought it. I lifted it up a couple of inches and used some metal screws to keep it there.
When I put clean sheets on the bed and got the covers back on, I felt good that I'd stopped to do something that really needed doing. That doesn't happen as often as my critics like it, but since my critics are often imaginary, it's not that much of a burden to bear.
My brother and his wife went out of town for a couple days and I've had to inspire myself to do the walking we've been doing together. I haven't been that eager to do it. I get plenty of exercise just going up and down the stairs to get my household chores done.
Merely making coffee and a couple of meals a day might take twenty round trips up and down those sixteen steps. One of the reason I keep my computer upstairs in my bedroom is to force me to use the stairs to do about any task. My brother and I use our natural sibling rivalry to push ourselves to walk further and faster than either of us would do alone.
People in general get mad at me for being so slow. I try to explain that I was born when the Sun and Moon were in the astrology sign Taurus, and the central keyword for Taurus is "inertia". Being born at sunset makes my Ascendent sign Scorpio, and it's fixedness doesn't help when it's associated with Taurus.
The only quick thing about me is that the planet Mercury, which represents the mind, is in the sign Aries. That helped a lot in amateur boxing. My hands were deceptively fast. I used to lumber out to the center of the ring giving the impression that I was gawky, and then knock my opponents out with my quick hands. Well, one guy I outpointed, but he didn't look pretty at the end.
The anticipation I feel for my next birthday sort of surprises me. Astrologically, it's a big deal turning 72 years old (if I should live another two months), As I've written before, it represents the third puberty. The first one was physical, the second one mental, and this one represents a spiritual puberty in which humans matriculate into spiritual power.
The actual time for that has already passed. It happened soon after I was seventy-one, but seventy-two is such a nice, neat number that I'm waiting until then to take this whole deal serious. I hope that it provides me with better understanding when the world ends next year.
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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.
