Judge and Defender
2026-10-27
I don't suppose you get jealous of the water as you watch it flow down that stream, do you?
Seeing the world go by day after day is a strange thing. Many times I don't feel like a participant, yet my flesh tells me otherwise. I sleep at night, but my soul still finds itself awake, and it sojourns to those alternate planes with no real goal in mind. Then I come back here, to this waking life, and find that it's still doing the same thing. Why then, do we place so much more stake in this life than the ones we live when we're asleep? Are they not of the same essence? Most would call that preposterous, and perhaps they're right. But I still feel pain in my dreams. I've been shot, stabbed, set on fire, and felt every second of it as if it were real. Yet I can't bring myself to say those things about my experience in this waking life. Have I really been shot, stabbed, and set on fire then? My contention would still be that that's the case, but if I were to say those things in a regular conversation, most would look at me like I've gone mad.
Been there, done that.
This life I've lived so far has been surmised as an aftermath of those psychotic experiences. Years after the fact, and they still linger inside of me like they just happened yesterday. I don't sleep well; I've never slept well. I am too preoccupied with sharing the same metaphysical space as spirits that don't want me to be there. Perhaps they're afraid that I'll expose their mysteries, but they don't understand that I am too feeble to even begin to understand the languages they speak. They probably think it's strange that I can even perceive them at all, and for that I don't blame them. Is it all really a hallucination? Am I really that good at making shit up? It can't be true; those little guys are running the show, and I'm just along for the ride. That's all I'll ever be, and for that I am not grateful, but at the very least willing to accept the duty of being their vessel. Otherwise, I am truly nothing. But I don't fear the collapsing infinitude of that black void, particularly because I know that of all the spiritual parlor tricks, that one is the simplest to conjure.
When they come and talk to me, I never understand their motives or intentions. But as of recently, I've been getting friendlier ones. They're ones who tell me to keep standing by Christ, to keep His words close. When the lights turn out, there will be nowhere else to go. As such, it's important to take this time to understand that place—what it is, what it will become, and how it functions here in this plane right now. We all have our paths to take in that journey of understanding, but for anyone willing to take it, it is wrought with changes and fluctuations not of what's around us, but what's inside of us—each and every one of us. To live is to change, grow, and accept death as it is, not for what it could be. I find myself content with the notion that my body is dying, that each day is a further walk toward peace. Whatever conflicts I wrought in that time will be inconsequential when He comes to examine my heart on that Final Day. My judge, and also my defense attorney—pretty solid bet, isn't it?
Why judge? Why not?
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