How Do I…

SOME QUESTIONS FROM a friend.  “How do you just quit being jealous?  How do you just quit being angry? “

It took me just forty years to quit.  I found that when I was left by one I loved, or when I was angry, the same thing happened in my mind, always the same words: You’re frightened.  You’re going to lose something!  Protect it!

After slipping into protecting without thinking, decade after decade, I decided that I didn’t like feeling  jealousy and anger.  Finally I asked, feeling helpless, “Well, what am I going to lose?

“I’ll lose her, is what!” I said.

“Oh?” Another voice in my mind, my high spiritual self.  “Can you answer my questions?”

“Of course I’ll answer.  I’m jealous and angry, but I’ll answer if you don’t require a page to listen.”

“Three questions.”

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Am I Getting Smarter?

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.

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Part-Time Angels

HOW MANY TIMES, in your life, have you done something nice for other people?  Something thoughtful?  How many smiles have you spent for them?  How many puppies and kittens have you petted?  How often, when someone is thinking of killing themselves, have you said, “I think your idea’s a permanent fix for a temporary problem.”

In all of those times (which you have mostly forgotten), in every one, you have been an angel.

In the midst of 1961, on a Manhattan sidewalk, an attractive woman looked at me, and in passing on the stream of other-bound pedestrians, she smiled at me for a second.  I don’t know why: maybe she was just happy.  But that was (1961 – 2014 = ) 53 years ago, and I still smile back to her, whether she’s somewhere in New York, in some other country, whether she’s on this planet or not,

She was an angel, changing my life in one second.  Just yesterday i had a message from a friend who was standing in a troubled checkout line, everyone there was wanting to get this shopping finished and someone was slowing the line.  She said, “Maybe we’re being slowed up here because a car’s going to kill us if we move…”  Everyone laughed, and the next minute a car drove half-way through the window of the market.  No one was hurt.

Someone remembered her words, to a reporter, and the newspaper said next day, that there was an angel there, who made us all stop, and saved our lives for not being in front of that window at that moment..

My friend said, “I’m no angel!  I just thought of some funny reason for us to stay where we were.”  Do you think she was no angel?  If not, I’ll give her fifty angel-points for her smile and for thinking to say what she said when she did.

When we consider the millions of kind and thoughtful deeds others do for others and for us, and which we do for them, of course we realize that there’s a need for us amateurs to be temporary angels.  How will that feel, to be given angel-points some day, from a full-time angel?

What’s Happening Now?

ACCORDING TO THIS WordPress computer program, which I may have been reading poorly, there have been 473 visitors to this website.  Most of them are somewhat interested in reading what we say, most do not write any comments.

Of those who do comment, three of us recently have written about incredible events in our lives.  I think all of us have had incredible events, but to harmonize with the calculations of my data, 0.063424947%, or 740,549,682 of 6 billion people on the planet have had incredible events: time and space shifted, absolutely certain collisions didn’t happen, events that required seconds to happen, happened in a few microseconds, all those beliefs of lives on this planet continued instead of dying.

So 740 million (rounding the number down) have shared this, and X million/billion have not shared it.

There’s probably a reason why it happens, these impossible events in this life.  There are probably some people who have figured why it happened.

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The Beautiful F-86F, And For Some Reason, Not Dying

I’VE BEEN WORKING a bIt, flying and making some of Puff’s details a little bit righter.  I work in a quiet hangar, and I’m used to the tests I’m given.  I’ll drop a bolt and it takes two minutes to get it again, I need a tool and it takes minutes to find it, everything takes a lot of time just to do the simplest tasks.

But I’m happy with that, and the time is well spent.   I knew, many years ago, that some day I’d be reading many books and learning much about death and dying, and when I’m not fastening some part of the airplane or greasing fittings or setting a new instrument in place, that’s what I’ve been studying.

Answers About the Afterlife, by Bob Olson, seems mostly the way things are, according to my own inner truth-meter.  In Michael Newton’s book The Destiny of Souls, there’s even a diagram of a meeting-room I entered when I had a near-death event in Argentina.  It was startling, since I had that experience before the book was written, and here it was, a drawing of the curved desk, the elders, me, my spirit guide behind me on the left…on page 206.  It didn’t mention the elders could laugh at me.

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A Story With Puff

TODAY WAS THE DAY I finished most of the maintenance for Puff, and it was time to fly.

I pulled her out of her hangar, looked over all the nuts and bolts, the tension on the cables, made sure that all the hinges were working smoothly, the flight controls, added some fuel and oil for the flight.  It had been several weeks since I had landed in the water, for all this maintenance, and I was just a little nervous as I slid into the cockpit, fastened the seat belt and shoulder harness, started the engine.  This flight would take us to the lake again.

More than any airplane I’ve owned, Puff had somehow learned to talk with me (and I had learned how to talk with her), and we flew thousands of miles, happily chatting about the events of our flights.  I don’t know if you remember, but after our crash with the high-tension wires, Puff had been silent,.

When I could walk again, I had some talks with her spirit (her body, wings and tail were destroyed, on the floor of the hangar), and she told me that when I rebuilt her body it would be a little confused, and would not talk much.

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Is Perfection Too Much To Ask?

I NEVER THOUGHT SO.  Seems to work for everyone who decides to live with another human being.  Works for every marriage.

When one decides for marriage, they’re done with dating, at last; they’ve found the single person who mirrors their own perfections, and they’re off on tests and challenges and beautiful understandings that only a life with a lovely human being can offer.  The odds against that are barely this side of impossible, yet it happens time and time again, to millions and millions of us.

What makes it work, I think, is the magic of intimacy.  There is one person with whom we can talk about anything, we can splash our imaginations, we can build events that won’t work, but still our dear ones love us.  Without intimacy, some say, what’s the point of living?  Without magic, there are clouds to muffle every sunrise.

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A Strange and Mystical Event

IT HAPPENS OFTEN, they say.  We’re in the midst of our life, we take some photographs, think nothing unusual has happened.  Then when we look at the pictures there’s a spirit or an orb in the midst of our day!  It’s become a common event these days, with so many cameras at work.  Strange, but common.

I didn’t think that I’d have the experience.  I was working on Puff, the little seaplane, doing some maintenance.  For a friend, I laid out some parts on the deck, then got the camera and took several pictures.

To my surprise, well, to my astonishment!, there was an image that I had not seen when I pressed the shutter:

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Puff’s home!

IT’S SO STRANGE!  For the last several months, since I returned from Florida, Puff was in my mind every day.  So many adventures with the little seaplane, adventures with Dan and his own plane Jennifer, spun in bright film strips clear as life sometimes, sometimes an old monochrome, fading.

Last week, though, a message from Dan, that Puff was ready to come home.  They were about to fly 3,700 miles together, it would take 50-some flying hours, seven days to come home.  All those days I was haunting the computer weather sites as they slipped from one weather to the next: missed a storm, tossed into winds that shuddered them both.

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