…your magnum opus, your multi-volume exposition on the nature of all being and Time as it touches the corners of your small puzzle piece. Your walls are surrounded by wolves, and your time is running out. Within these walls there are sheep who think they are wolves, and wolves pretending to be sheep. But, outside these walls, they are all pretty much wolves.
The line that separates you from accomplishing your mission and dying unexpectedly is a line thinner than the finest line ever drawn by nanobots. You know what happens if you die before you complete your mission: you will spend eternity slipping further and further into a black thick void from which there is no return and no communication with an other being. However, you hardly know yet just what your mission is.
This treatise, this inquiry, this painstaking child birthed after you were thought much too old to produce any offspring of note–this collection of thoughts are most certainly not your mission, but merely the culmination of centuries of dying and being reborn through a number of distracting lifetimes in which you failed utterly and miserably to remember your mission, much less carry it out.
In all human endeavor there is the will toward purpose and the paradoxical will toward finding contentment with the artifacts of death. A man might wish to help others, but find himself one day selling software that is used by charities to raise money that they will spend (in part) to help others. He can connect the dots by way of rationalization to make himself be convinced enough that his work is on par with helping the blind to see and the crippled to walk. Once absolved of any lingering reservation about not being precise enough in his earthly purpose, the man can contentedly take the money he makes in his profession and spend it on earthly delights and treasures.
This is, of course, but one example of how the devil dupes us all into believing we are being saintlike. The man who feels the most guilty about not living up to the promises he made in the last bardo will simply declare himself an atheist, and not try one whit to be saintly or godlike. He will then turn to others and demand scientific proof for their God or gods, even as he can only offer humanist rationalization for being a moral creature sans God.
You are hardly concerned with that lot, though. Even as it’s strikingly odd that so many atheists, agnostics, vegans, feminists, buddhists, etc. will proselytize avidly their newfound sources of joy after railing on Christians for years for daring to preach to them–such inconsistency and hypocrisy is human nature, and glaring blind sides are to be expected from the aggressively blind.
What has brought you joy on this earth has always been the clearing of all distractions to leave only Love itself, and to focus on those beings who live and move through the creator Himself, who need Love more than anything else. A mind that stays alert and focused on this Love is a happy mind, and a rare one, indeed.
Your own mind can stay focused on this Love for perhaps thirty seconds at a time or less, before it becomes easily distracted again by the cares and concerns of both the inner and outer worlds. If you were a master of your own mind, you likely wouldn’t exist on this plane of being.
The gift you’ve been given is a terrible thing: a weapon that can destroy or heal millions at the flick of a switch that is completely your choosing. Once you’ve been made aware that you’ve been in the driver’s seat all this time, letting any and every entity that pops in the car take the wheel, you can’t possibly go back to sleep. You can’t cry out to God, “forgive me, Father, for I didn’t know any better!” God is loving enough that you can, of course, still cry out and say “forgive me, Father, for I am a wretched evil man who can only get better by the grace of the blood of the Lamb!”
But, what you crave the most in all that you do, see and touch, is to be able to return to a state of idyllic childhood, where you were still a minor and others were responsible for you, others made decisions for you, and you simply didn’t know any better. You form strategies of being around this craving, willfully forming blind sides then sublimating them so your left hand knows not what the right is up to.
The other unhealthy thing that you do is make a God after your own image. God becomes wholly permissive of whatever activity you choose to participate in, and you use terms like “he meant for me to do this, this is the way I am and God made me this way.”
How utterly shocked you would be to discover just how much of you was not made by God but by you–through millenia of deaths and rebirths, through choices made where you ultimately perhaps were seeking a birth passage from the womb of a noblewoman, aristocrat or celebrity. Your choices may not have even been so calculating, but simply a series of likes and dislikes have accumulated over Time to make the You who you are.
And finally, you should know that in each bardo you have but three choices if you have yet to carry out your mission: stay where you are and let vastly superior intelligences deal route you to where they will (these are generally of the evil variety, and there is almost never any return from here), make a deal with those evil ones and promise to return to earth to win more souls for Satan, or beg and plead with saints and angels to send you back as this time you will do God’s will and carry out your mission.
In this bardo passage there are trillions of souls begging to be returned to the earth for one more chance to get it right. Just securing passage to a human womb is hard enough. Then, to get placed inside a loving home where you are not molested or beaten as a child, or starved and left to fend for yourself–this is nigh impossible. Finally, to find parents who will raise you up to love and fear the one true God whose son is our Lord and savior Jesus Christ and whose people are the people of Israel, rather than one of the Satanic gods like Allah and the devil prophet Mohamed–this is an exceptional coup. And, as the Western world continues to turn its back on God and desire not to have more children, the chances of being born into a family to get your soul made right grow smaller and smaller with each passing generation.