What ghosts really are

(Feb 2017 me note: This one is a little old too, I wanna say fall of 2013. The pleasant surprise about this one is that going back over it, I don’t hate it. It makes me happy. I think I just hate the rants. This metaphor of all my past selves has clearly stayed with me and it shapes the way I view myself and others now. That’s how strong metaphors and illustrations are to me and I am pretty sure all intuitive feelers in general. I treasure them.)

Random Thought from the Fall of 2013: What ghosts really are.
Or.. as I now think of it, Welcome to the Dance Party Bonfire of Nonlinear Time. 😉

I was thinking this morning, about why people are so desperate to believe in ghosts, and then it hit me that our memories are the only real ghosts we believe in because we can see them and relive them wherever we go. We want to relive them so badly that we think we see all our past moments reliving themselves in the present. Then it made my heart a little nostalgic and a little happy and sad at the same time.

Of course, I’m not talking about the souls of dead people, because those things are sleeping, not up walking around. We only exist while we carry within our cells the animating breath of God, the electricity that springs us into action. The latin word for spirit is “spiritus” which means “Breath.” We are the soul, the spirit is our breath. Thus the spirit and the soul cannot be synonymous. We exist only while we are alive, because that’s what life is: The state of existence.

To me it feels more like my past self is watching my present self with hopeful expectations. I keep seeing her everywhere. Sometimes she’s 10, sometimes 16, sometimes 20, sometimes 3. She’s always looking at me with these wide eyes, and I can’t help but think that when I’m 50 I’ll see my 31 year old self with those same bright, wide eyes… they ask more questions in a single second than I could hope to fathom the answers to in this limited lifetime.

It will be wonderful to live out eternity in paradise where I can look into her eyes and give scope and depth to the weight and beauty of every single one of the whimsical creatures that fly like bats and fairy tale creatures out of the cave of her active imagination.

While I’m still alive, they still exist. I step through the mirror of linear time on occasion and join them at dance party bonfires at midnight surrounded by a densely populated forest of redwood trees. (Feb 2017 Me note: Sometimes they’re Birch trees surrounded by the insulating silence of a fresh blanket of snow. 🙂

All my pets from since I began are there with their time’s version of me, keeping her frail little heart company. I’m so glad to see so many versions of me that never had to be lonely.

You notice that I didn’t speak much of my twenties self… she and I are too much like siblings, and I still have her pets so we are still too connected by them here in this time for her to step through the mirror and be at the bonfire with them.

Except Poopie cat and Memo, maybe they can be her ticket into the dance party bonfire of nonlinear time. I’d hate to think of them not being there, even if it means that they could be excused from such a poor representative as my 20 something self. There’s never another name on the ticket, only mine. The age is the only thing that changes.

I’m sure I’ll see her at the bonfire in ten years with Boo and Kitty, the dogs I have now. This is just too much for me to imagine at the moment. I am only non-linear about my past for my future hasn’t been written yet. Those choices are still waiting to be made. My present is a past waiting to be seen by wiser, more understanding eyes.

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