OR ARE THE THINGS IN this life a lot simpler than they once seemed? Does simplicity come from a few old words used in a new way?
By the blessing of my airplane crash, I’ve learned that “death” at the end of our Earth-time is not death at all, it is a beautiful new Life.
After letting go of events so familiar, at once the colors are brighter and scenes are different from ever on Earth. There are no evils around, we find friends that we’ve known ever, we don’t have to struggle to live. Coming back to Life again, with its teachers and guides for us and for our friends, most of us gradually getting better at Earthlife, suddenly we can see what once we called a “lifetime” isn’t a lifetime at all. It was just one act in our cosmic screenplay.
All at once we understand why we lived that role, we see the lessons we hoped to show during our Earthtime. What we called our lifetime is “Act 12” or “Act 2431,” and all of our acts become the Play as it seems to us. Act after act, lesson after lesson, triumphs and not-quite-rights and shoot-it-overs.
Out of the play for a while when we “die,” we can rest as long as we wish, do nothing, imagine and choose lifestories yet to be in our acts, including some that are most likely impossible. We can play any role of any of our beliefs, any time we wish, several at once, if that suits us.
I remember the ending of one act that happened when I (writing this, today) was only three years old. In 1939, I was unaware that the pilot who was me in his scene of the play was 19 years old. He was chased by an enemy aircraft, spiraled down to escape, and turned his airplane all the way into the sea. I remembered just that part of his lifetime, the ending, four decades later. I saw the sea rising up, so close to the windscreen, and the next frame I saw from a hundred meters away, the crash, the tower of spray and the airplane gone.
“So what?” Good question. Maybe it’s “Nothing,” for others. For me, I began to know why I have the tests I do in this act, this lifetime. I can tell which I did well in former scenes, and which tests that come for me now because I didn’t quite master them when I tried last time.
Alcohol, tobacco, drugs…all simple in this scene for me, I think I learned from tests before. For me, just the suggestion of Alcohol Etc. means disaster for me, a coiled snake ready to strike. Did I have a single event in this lifetime with them? Thanks to the snake, not one test, not one challenge here. Somewhere long ago I learned they’re losers, first sight.
Loneliness? I may finally have learned in this act, a major test. I’m still playing.
Age? It goes on. I guess I’ll find out later.
Medicine? Either an F or an A. I know nothing of medicine, had a bunch of medical things thrust on me after my crash in this scene. I decided not to fight about it.
Anger? It was a test till I knew I don’t have to play with it, ever. I just quit being angry.
Patience? Maybe some progress, but between thee and me, I think I haven’t learned that lesson yet.
Love? The big test in my play. Quite a few failures, for me, and perhaps one win. Strange, but I think a win.
Average? Maybe a C+, over all, for this act.
How can we earn an A? So simple. So difficult. Remember, when the scene comes with its test: We are each a perfect expression of perfect Love, no matter what seems to be — through every act, through every scene along our thousand-year play.