They Get Happy
In the interest of science I have donated my thetan1, my heart and my soul to those who wish to further that wonderful research line called ‘life’. I really have no further use for them, so off they go. I trust that they will be taken care of in the same manner to which I have subjected them for the time that I have made use of them. They have been quite handy and served me well, but like all accompaniments, the band marches on.
This triad of delight has shielded me well during game play and has, at the same time, created more trouble than they have been worth, but that is really the bottom line. Worth. These kinds of things trade quite readily and easily on the open market, but since I am not trading one worth for another, the lab gets to have them back. Tag ‘em and bag ‘em.
The continuity of life is eternally ensured and this is what makes owning things very funny indeed. My thetan agrees, so all is well.
In jest and in death, the baggage of life never gets lost, misplaced nor stolen through neglect. Ever been in the market for a thetan? Sometimes, you can’t even give them away. Most everyone who has one wants two, and those that have two want even more. I hear that whoever has the most, wins when the lights finally go out. But that is hearsay much in the same way that the GE with the highest body count wins. I haven’t heard anyone yet ask what the prize is. Isn’t that funny!
I’ve lit a candle and burned the incense and in between the coughing and squinting of eyes, I raise my glass to the heavens and bid the travelers adieu. May their journey be safe and paved with the perils so desired. Who knows, maybe one day you will add your thetan, your heart and that bottomless pit you call your soul, to the collective. May their journeys be safe and fraught with peril as well.
Now that I have no company in which to entrust my innermost secrets, all that is left is nothing. Characteristics come and go. The lights turn on and off beyond the willful control of my thetan. Days are neither counted, nor come and go. Events occur and thoughts do not exist. It almost sounds like a bad day at black rock!
The last I remember is getting off the train. Baggage? There is none. Destination? I am already there. Origination? Where is there to come from when there is no where to go? Philosophical ramblings at their very best.
I’ve checked with the lab and have been told that donations are very rarely made. Sometimes, thetans come back in horrible, horrible shape and the lab has to send them back for repair before they can accept them. There have also been cases where someone has changed their mind and wants their thetan back immediately. When that happens it really puts a strain on the lab to not only find the donated thetan, but to ensure that it gets returned in the exact shape it was donated in. They’ve told me that they are getting pretty darn good at determining which thetan will be wanted back based strictly upon the shape of the thetan. It seems that those things can’t be returned for good until they are donated for good, if you know what I mean.
I’ll not be lonely without my thetan constantly hanging around because I don’t have friends anyway, so there is nothing to miss. This might seems strange, but I am in good company with my surroundings. I am here and I am there, so what better friend could there be?
This really isn’t my choice at all, so please don’t feel that I am doing something noble or grand. The thetan and it’s cohorts have this inexplicable urge to return to their origination point. There is really nothing that I can do to stand in it’s way. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
In the night sky, when you see a falling star, think not of a chunk of cold, hard, lifeless rock streaking through the air, but of my thetan making the journey home. The sparks of life are everywhere and when they return home, well, they get happy. 2
- 30 Jun 2004 14:46 |