My Library

BB lighted. (Games, games! We got more games than any system four skips in any direction!) I turned inward and closed. It was getting too hot to handle. If the rote was real … a huge if. I began to drop off. Anger, the feeling of being on the receiving end of a huge deception. The resentment at being manipulated, wanting to strike out at those who were conning me … us … all humans … who were taking something from us without our consent or permission. What happened to the freedom idea? Was every thought and action we took guided—no, directed and controlled just to produce more Loosh, whatever that was, for a breakfast table or a fuel tank in a Somewhere? And what could I do about it, even knowing? I dulled deeply and dropped off more and more … (Hey RAM!) BB was fading rapidly. (Where you going!) Return to the physical was near-instantaneous, exactly as if I had pushed the panic button, which I had not done for so long. Strong sense of tiredness, both mental and physical, neglected to check time of return. Low energy, no desire to do anything. Unable to get to sleep. Got up, went to the kitchen, and made a cup of coffee. Sat and stared at the cup. With no energy or desire for exploration during the two weeks following, in a depressed state, the only production that surfaced was: It is sunset. The Guernsey has walked many miles around the pasture in her forage for food. The grass had been more lush today here, though she did not bother to consider why. She had come through the gate calmly when He directed her to do so, instead of the gate across the road. He knew she would find better grass here, and that was why He moved her here, though she did not realize it. She only did what He directed. But now, at sunset, it is time again. She must go to His place. There is a goading pain on her underside that tells her this. At His place up on the hill, it is cool and there is more food. And He will take the pain away.