“About the Time of the End, a body of (wo)men will be raised up who will turn their attention to the Prophecies, and insist upon their literal interpretation, in the midst of much clamor and opposition.”

[Sir Isaac Newton, 1642-1727]
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musing

I suppose I could say that I am one of the lucky ones for whom the Diamond Thunderbolt instantaneously and involuntarily granted spiritual awakening. Abruptly it burst clear the path to intuitive insight, seemingly dispelling the need for external discipline.
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Someone once said that there is a supreme difference between destiny and fate. Our destiny is to go through preordained changes. Our fate is how we choose to go through them. Faith is a matter of belief and you are what you believe in. Some of us don’t have much of a choice either way.

I constantly see possibilities layered all around me, and like a child in a kaleidoscopic candy store don’t know where to turn next, where to start exploring – I want it all! I want it now! This life so short, so much to see and do. I know that I must use it wisely before it is cast upon the beach of time. And yet, my indecision to chose a way, a path, feeds on a stifling fear that I may not choose the ‘right’ option. How can I be certain that the one I settle on will be the "correct one’’?! The fear is numbing, rendering my actions impotent. Barren.

But the path, unstoppable like spilled water, writhes and meanders to find its own way. And trials are but lessons that we failed to learn, presented once again. Not as punishment, but as a second chance, so that where we’ve made an ineffective choice before, we can now make a better one, and thus escape the pain that our previous choice had brought to us.

In the end, other than being the best I can be at whatever makes me happy, I'm not concerned. After all, the one thing I truly excel in, the one thing I excel in above everyone else, above all - is in being me!

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first glimpse

The first time I got a glimpse of the future, I was three years old. In the balmy inkiness hung countless sparkles of light. As I spun in the spot with my chubby little arms stretched out to the sides reaching out for the world, head thrown back with blond ringlets bouncing up and down on my shoulders and face pointing to eternity, I wondered how far those glowing specks were. What was behind them? What did the end of the night look like? And if there was an end, what came after it(?)

The vision I had that evening was of the mundane bits of family life. The scene played out in a strange kind of fast-forward motion on a see-through holographic-like screen floating in front of my eyes.

For decades I didn't realise how strange it was that my grandmother, my second mother who brought me up, didn't blink an eye when I'd rattle off to her the events of the next day, or week, or month. Nor did she ever say anything once it had all happened just as I said. The first time she made a comment on my visions, and said so much more, things that made me realise that maybe I was different after all, was on her deathbed about a decade later.

Up until then the experience seemed totally natural, normal, if there is such a thing at all. I didn't talk about the visions beyond home, and they quietly unfolded as seen.

Later that same year when my grandmother died, for the very first time I questioned a vision I had. It was one of a handful over my lifetime that was about me personally. And, it was the first. As much as I wanted the vision to be true, I didn't think there was any possibility of it eventuating. All facts pointed to the impossibility.

Within the next few months I was to change hemispheres. The boy in my vision was not going anywhere.

But what do we mere mortals know about the space-time continuum? About 17 years later my life played out the vision. Or is it the other way around(?)