Here is the point: I am here. You are here.
There is a spiritual *now* between us.
I need to unpack this a little, from the comments and questions starting to come in from our reading public, you. Thanks for sticking with us.
I am here. January 2026, Austin, Texas. You are reading here. [enter your time + space coordinates if you like] Through the magic of God and cats we are actually connected right now. I tried do the texting parlor trick with you earlier. It didn’t work. I keep trying to subvert the system. In my 27.5 hours and counting, as an angel, no wings. A lesser angel. I like the term temporarily flightless.
We are sharing a moment. It’s hard to get your head around it. Reading and writing are a form of time travel & space travel. I write (my time) while you read (your time).
Same fucking time.
**pop**my*mind***is*blwn
You get what I’m saying, don’t you? Writing is a form of celestial outreach. Reading is a form of spiritual receptiveness. A loop is formed when you read my words. If I am alive, the signal will be lower and harder to hear. From the other side, where our narrator is, I have complete understanding and knowledge of this time and space stuff I’m trying to share with you.
I write. You read. We are together. The cat(s) on my lap are the same *cat* as the one asleep on your comfy couch. Any dog you may have within reception will be emitting love energy and relaxation mantras. No matter where you are in the universe or within time, when you are reading my words, I am with you. The cosmic me.
The me in 2026 is waiting for my groceries to be delivered so I can feed the cats. I am writing this as I might write any other book. The books before, the “series,” served as a transformer for my mind and my mental capacity.
My human brain and spiritual network consciousness got stronger and more agile in managing the details of my life. I needed help, so the guidance was welcome. That entire enterprise, 3 or so years, hundreds of thousands of words, and the colorful colors in my mind, got you and me: here.
Together.
As you live and breathe. I am here with you. You can’t hear my typing. It’s more like I’m on a different plane of existence, or astral, or a ghost. Me here, flesh and blood, 2026, no. You, where you are. Breathing. Reading. Opening the connection between us.
Here’s a fact. No matter how far away I am in space and time, when you begin reading one of my books, I am summoned. At the most, the arrival of my attention is 10 seconds behind your first five minutes of reading. That’s not put very well.
When you begin reading anyone’s book, their spirit is notified, like the servant bell in an old English mansion. If you stay with the book for approximately five minutes, your thought patterns will begin to sync up with mine. Ping. I am summoned. In less than ten seconds, I am cuddled on the comfy couch next to you.
I wish I had known any of this when I was really into Walt Whitman. In college. He was speaking to me. I had no way of knowing that his aura was nestled in my arms. Or perhaps, me in his.
Writers are a special type of human. There are other types. Listeners. Laborers. (Yep, we haven’t eliminated boring work in my timeline, yet.) All humans are encouraged to be writers and painters at the earliest possible time. Singers too. Kids are wonderful, malleable, and a bit obtuse. Perhaps, like I was before, I was able to tune myself to the spiritual comms.
Part of the goal of this book, project, journey, whatever you want to call the experience you’re having right now, is to determine your strata, your class, caste. Where you fit.
The universe needs listeners more than anything else in the world. Listeners are as rare as the most extinct animal you can conjure up. Rarer than that. That “special” Pokemon card? Rarer. Srsly, quit challenging me and just accept, listeners are RARE.
The available life forms, human and other, are searching for a new listener. The one at the core of our galaxy is beginning to dwindle. Dwindling is a natural process that takes about 1,000 years. Our sense of urgency is FIRE as you can imagine. No expense has been spared.
And here we are. You. Me. In Time.
Any questions?
return to index | this is a chapter of a novel** in progress:
