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Monday, December 24, 2018

To Susan

Esau-->the apostle, Judas-->Susan (1970) (1st Church)

From: Michael Joseph Cecil (Chapter 12, verse 1 of the Book of Daniel, Sura 2, verses 97-98 & 285 of the Quran, Column XVII of the Scroll of the War of the Sons of Light & Chapter 3, verse 12 of the Revelation of John)

On the evening of Saturday, April 3, 1971, Mariita and Charlotte were at the Black and Gold Restaurant at Purdue University across from the armory (although, at that time, it was commonly referred to by students as the “Barf and Gag”); and they sent Ed across campus to bring me—
‘forcibly if necessary’, I remember getting the impressionto a birthday party that they had planned for me.

Miraculously, he found me walking through the Student Union near the Sweet Shop, and I marveled at how he had even been able to accomplish that. I could have been literally anywhere in the library—where I often used to go to read articles from the journal Science (and in which I had read an article about 2,4,5 T; 2,4 D; and the use of “Agent Orange” in Viet Nam in the Spring of 1970; leading to a quite successful demonstration against the Monsanto recruiters on campus and lectures to hundreds of students in several classes in the Biology Department that day about dioxin)or back at my room (it was probably 9:30 in the evening), or merely walking around campus as I sometimes did at night (not wanting to go back to a lonely room where I had been unable to sleep for any more than two or three hours each night for the past couple of months); but he was able to find me almost immediately.

And, even ‘worse’, he was not at all surprised that he had found me; almost as if he knew that he would find me.

I was on my way back to my room, but he insisted that I come with him to the “Barf and Gag”—and, when I resisted, he probably said something about having been sent to find me by Mariita and Charlotte—for a reason that he would not explain; despite the fact that I told him that I had especially unpleasant memories about that particular restaurant.

It seems that we went downstairs, where we saw Charlotte and Mariita sitting in one of the darkened booths—the thick, heavy wood of which was so dark brown as to be almost black; and I almost turned around to leave, being too sad (although devastated or catatonic would be much more accurate) to be with them because of the memories that they would most likely bring back of my relationship with you when we were all together under much happier circumstances just a few short months before. But Ed stopped me.

Cant remember whether there was any cake or candles (or any singing of “Happy Birthday”) or not; but it soon became clear to me that this was to be a ‘celebration’ party for my 21st birthday; with everyone there but you. But that was what was most important to me: that you were not there; your absence, however, actually being a sorrowful, aching-in-my-heart, presence; as if to remind me and to emphasize that I had lost you and that I would now have to learn how to live without you...

(Celebration? I only wanted to go back to my room and cry.)

Mariita explained to me that you couldn’t be there, having gone home to Valparaiso for a few days over the weekend (and I gave her a strained smile; although I doubted that what she said was the truth); but it certainly would not have been good for me to see you there anyway (I would have probably burst into tears); so, on second thought (I guess), I really didn’t mind.

Can’t remember what we talked about.

The conversation was deftly steered in any direction other than about you or my relationship with you, as I recall. But then, when it came time to leave, Mariita became extremely agitated; having misplaced something that she was supposed to give me.

After a few minutes, she found a paper bag with the sketch in black ink that you had drawn from a photograph that (she?) had taken of me on the mall near the fountain a year before, probably during my campaign for Student Body President (as you may recall, I received 777 votes, but lost to Stan Jones); upon which you had written a poem; which, according to the byline, had been authored by your younger sister, Mary Martha Dust.

[Sometime during the Spring of 1971, I remember first remembering your last name in conjunction with a verse from Genesis: “Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return.”; considering that verse, at that time, to be only more or less ‘interesting’. But, by no later than 1974, I began to understand that verse to have been one of the first synchronicities in our relationship; also noticing, immediately after our break-up, the obvious phonetic parallels between the name “Judas” and the name “Susan”: Long U followed by short u.

[It was only after receiving the Vision of the “Son of man” in December, 1974—a Vision which conveys the Knowledge of the Ten Principal Phonetic Tones of Creation (as signified by the voices and tones during the “Star Gate Sequence” from 2001—A Space Odyssey)—that I understood that the ‘distance’ from the Long U phonetic tone to the short u phonetic tone is the ‘distance’ of ‘the Fall’ from the non-dualistic “observing consciousness” to the dualistic consciousness of the “self” and the ‘thinker’; also signifying the ‘distance’ from the First Church to the Second Church in the Revelation of John; on the basis of which I then understood, no later than 1976, that the Message to the First Church of the Revelation of John was about ‘the Fall’ from the consciousness Created by God to the self-created (as can be seen by a very careful reading of, and reflection upon Meditations On First Philosophy by Descartes) consciousness of the “self” and the ‘thinker’.

[And, when I later began to focus in much greater detail on the explanation of the Revelation of John, I came to the understanding that what had happened in our relationship was, in fact, a manifestation of ‘the Fall’ (as stated in Revelations 2:4-5: “ have left your first love...Think where you were before you fell.”); that I, too, was “dust” (and, meanwhile, my last name, “Cecil”, means “blind; sixth”; that is, the ‘fallen’ and intellectually “blind” consciousness of the ‘thinker’ originating at the “Sixth” Church in the Revelation of John)—and that what we both were experiencing simultaneously was, in Truth, a psychologically devastating masculine and a feminine response to ‘the Fall’; the second phrase of the verse from Genesis immediately signifying that, in this life, ‘I would return to you’...

[And, eventually, that I would be able to explain these things to you in person, when we meet again in this life, as a continuation of the teaching relationship that we once had when you were Judas.

[But it was only after Elizabeth had received the Revelation of “the resurrection” in March, 1990—we were engaged in March, 1987 and married in June, 1988; after I received a memory of her having been murdered as John the Baptist in a previous life (during the same life when Danielle had been Mary, the companion of Jesus)—that I finally and more completely began to understand that the images conveyed in your sister’s poem were describing, in fact and in some detail, ‘the Fall’ as experienced by the feminine consciousness; the experience of ‘the Fall’ by the masculine consciousness on the other hand (which I received in December, 1975), being sharply different in the context of the Revelation of the Memory of Creation, as minimally described in Genesis 2:7.]

I looked at it briefly, then probably parted company with Ed and Mariita, and walked with Charlotte back to her apartment on East Oak street.

She asked me if I wanted to come in for awhile; asked me whether I wanted to be left alone; and then left for a few minutes to allow me to carefully read the poem; which, in sharp contrast to what I felt at that time, I still cannot read today without crying:

The sun has risen
                to a point where
I can stand it no longer
      and although I
             turn to look, I could
                    feel its warmth
illuminating me
and making the
        blooming colors
    inside me melt
            to make one
flow of my body and yours
       and saw a
             bright mass in the
with green swirling oceans
                                    between us
as one foot went, so went another
and              soon our distance
    became a mere touch
                 a touch so real
              that I had to look harder
             and found
                        my pleasure fading slowly
                           dispairingly [sic].
I lifted up my hands
       to grasp for the rays
                     in the now ink universe
that held my last hope of day
            my castle in the air,
                    and I could do nothing to save it
I gazed fixidly [sic],
      hoping that my eyes
     would keep my bright field of clover
                      always in my sight
the calm river that you started
                       within me
               turned into a raging sea
                               that welled up
                           and, like a sinking treasure,
                                         found its way out
                            and slowly seeped
                                  down my weeping face
                             like a cup is filling with
                                            there is one drop
                                                     that makes it overflow
                      washing away everything
                                                       it had hoped to keep.

                                                                                         --Mary Martha Dust

                                                                    You have melted me...Susan”

And, when she returned after a few minutes—with Constant Comment tea (?), which she usually served at the parties in her apartment—I tried to explain just a little of the suffering that I was experiencing because of the failure of our relationship; and, after a few minutes, I left for my own room.

(I had recently moved from a room on West Stadium Avenue, where I had been living when we broke up, to another room on East Stadium Avenue, as I recall; after having lived in an upstairs room on East Lutz when I was dating you the previous Spring; and where we had, interestingly enough, heard [another synchronicity] the song Cecilia by Paul Simon; a very few words of which were reminiscent of our time together; with some words even echoing the synchronicity of your name with the verse from Genesis about a time in the future when you would “love me again”.)

On parting with a hug, Charlotte probably said something like “The sun will rise again, mon Michele.”

(Endearingly, she often said my name in French rather than English for some reason—it always melted my heart; and, since then, because of how close we always were at that time and over the next few years, I have sometimes wondered whether that might be because I had also known her in one of my previous lives when I was burned at the stake as a Cathar in southern France.)

But I didn’t believe her.

You were the first person, as I recall, who had ever called me by my name “Michael”—I had always been known to others, especially by the members of my family and classmates, as nothing more than “Mike”—and I remembered what music it was to my ears every time (well, almost every time) I heard you say my name.

But that world—and that music—had now ended; and had now turned into nothing but an eternal Darkness in an atonal and eternal Silence because I had lost you.

And, as I had explained to her, you were all of my sunshine because of how close we had become.

What was my reaction to the poem?

First of all, I understood it to be a communication from you; in sharp contrast to the absence of any communications from you over the past several weeks. And, of course, I hoped that, inasmuch as it had been given to me as a present on my birthday, what that meant was that you had changed your mind and wanted to continue our relationship. At least that was what I was hoping for when I first began to read the poem.

But, by the time I got to the byline and your comment, it became quite clear to me that, as desperately as I wanted to ignore the fact, the poem was not for the purpose of any future communication between us—which I desperately needed from you as much as I needed air to breathe—but was, instead, an epitaph on our relationship; a further indication that our relationship was emphatically over.

And, by the time that I got to the words “weeping face” and “melted me”, I became intensely angry; not sharing with Charlotte, of course, even one word of that anger; at least because, at that time, I had no words:

Now you tell me that you are experiencing sorrow about what happened in our relationship...?

...when wondering about that was what had tormented me the most over the past two months...?

...when you had never said anything to me about your sorrow over the previous two months but had only responded to me with nothing but unrestrained viciousness?”

Now you tell me that I have “melted you”...?

...when, over the past two months, the only impression I had of you was that you hated me with every fiber of your being; or, even more likely, that you had, in fact, never loved me?”

Now you tell me these things...?

...being so vicious as to give me an epitaph on our relationship as a present on my birthday, no less...? if I would understand that epitaph as a present...? if that was something that would please me?”

I cant recall that I was able to believe any of the words in the poem at that time. But, in any case, it took me another few decades to clearly understand that, under the circumstances, you were not to blame; anger had been your only possible response; just as sorrow had been, necessarily, my primary response.

But, despite what was written in the poem, it was what you had said to me over the previous two months that I remembered:

In the conversation that completely destroyed our relationship in February, for example, you began by telling me: “We’ve been riding on a train. And I think it’s time that we both got off”; an image that I put to good use more than 35 years later in describing the relationship between the consciousness Created by God and the ‘fallen’, dualistic consciousness.

[In December 2018, I made a number of crucial revisions to the “moving train thought experiment” that I had devised several years before—and which I had used for at least the past 10 years in explaining the three dimensions of consciousness in Towards A New Paradigm of Consciousness:

[—to describe the perceptual conflicts between the non-dualistic “observing consciousness” and the dualistic consciousness of the “self” and the ‘thinker’; the gist of which is as follows:

[An observer on a stationary train drops a ball while looking straight down at the top of the ball; the path of the falling ball being observed by that observer as a point.

[But, on the stationary train next to the observer who drops the ball, is another observer, for whom the path of the falling ball is a straight line.

[Meanwhile, there is another observer in the train station, for whom the path of the falling ball is also a straight line.

[And now the train is put into motion.

[To the observer who drops the ball, the path of the falling ball is still a point; while, to the other observer on the moving train, the path of the ball is still a straight line.

[But, to the observer in the train station, the path of the ball is a curved line.

[Now, what is the “real” path of the falling ball on both the stationary train and the moving train?

[Is it a point, a straight line, or a curved line?

[The question, of course, is meaningless...

[Just like the question of the Sadducees to Jesus.

[The “real” path of the falling ball, on both the stationary train and the moving train, depends upon the “frame of reference” of the observer; which, of course, is also useful in explaining Einstein’s Special Theory of Relativity.

[Now, what is being described here?

[The dualistic consciousness of the “self” and the ‘thinker’ is represented by the observers on the moving train; the observer dropping the ball representing the consciousness of the “self”, and the other observer on the train representing the consciousness of the ‘thinker’; but only when the train is put into motion. (That is, the “self” is a 3-dimensional ‘curved spatiality’ of consciousness that can be protected from collapse and maintained only with the thought of the ‘thinker’ and the creation of the thought of time; that is, the train being put into motion). While the observer in the train station represents the non-dualistic “observing consciousness”; which is also the consciousness for the conveying of the Knowledge Revealed through the Vision of the “Son of man” and the Revelation of “the resurrection”:

[And, while there are, in fact, certain (but minor) disagreements between the observations of both the “self” and the ‘thinker’ on the moving train; both will agree that the path of the dropping ball is not a curved line; as is observed by the observer in the train station.

[But the question is “What observer has the most information about the structure of reality?”

[And the answer to that question is “the observer in the train station”, which represents the “observing consciousness”.

[And that is a brief summary of the conflict between the dualistic consciousness of the “self” and the ‘thinker’ and the non-dualistic “observing consciousness”; the details of which, however, are even more instructive.

[And, sometime later, you also told me—with no small degree of exasperation“Michael, I dont love you anymore”; which, of course, sent darts into my heart.

[So the poem merely confirmed what I had already concluded based upon what you had said to me: that you had once chosen to fall in love with me; but that, now, you had chosen not to love me...

[….for no reason that I could see...

[...and through no fault of my own.]

Ever since our break-up, I had been unable to fall asleep until 11 P.M.; even though, typically, I went to bed at 9 P.M; then usually awaking at 1 or 2 A.M., for a total of no more than three hours of sleep.

And, in the midst of that trauma—easily and unquestionably bringing me to the very brink of, if not into and through a complete psychotic breakdown—and, almost daily, praying desperately on my knees, I often remembered, and actually heard in my memory, the words of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane from Jesus Christ Superstar.

And, in a letter that I sent to you probably during February, 1971, I actually quoted from Jesus Christ Superstar when I wrote, “You liar; you Judas. You betrayed me with a kiss”; thinking, at that time, that that was nothing more than merely a poetic or metaphorical truth.

Thus, our relationship, which had begun in January, 1970; ‘officially’ ended in sorrow in early April 1971—the most important songs that I remember for describing what had happened to our relationship being:

Suite Judy Blue Eyes:

If You Could Read My Mind:

Fire and Rain:

Southern Cross:

and Forever Autumn:

But it was not until I had received the Revelation of “the resurrection” in December, 1975—thereby incontrovertibly validating both of our identities in those previous lives—that there was the re-kindling of the hope that, sometime during this life, we would meet again; after which I recognized that the lyrics to Who Knew?:

are descriptive of the relationship between Judas and Jesus (“in three years” is mentioned, for example); at which time I will be able to explain to you in person the meaning of the lyrics to all of these songs; how important our relationship was to me; and the Knowledge that, since our relationship, has been Revealed to me through the Vision of the “Son of man” and the Revelation of “the resurrection”; all for the benefit of those who will survive the coming “time of trouble” Prophesied by Daniel.

And, with the understanding that the Prophecies I received so many years ago of the coming “time of trouble” are now very rapidly approaching their fulfillment, I will be seeing you very soon, God Willing, and we will be able to talk about these things and so much more.

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