Maybe it is time for me to write a book. My message does not feel as urgent as it once did. Those that were ready, are on board now. Won’t I just be preaching to the choir, kind of like this blog? I have no more deep, deep wounds to heal through writing. The mythos even is just a structure to help comprehend the density of the truth of source.

There is still a deep part of me that wishes it were 80 years ago, probably the happiest I ever was on Earth. There are sometimes when I play those old songs, even remakes of them, I miss Matt so much, even if he’s looking over my shoulder right now and crying too, it’s not the same. And as with everything, I try to release the pain, to be grateful for having been blessed at all, but it hurts. It still hurts.


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