I worry about my soul these days. The end of 2012 December 21st is something to think about.
Compassion is what I worry about these days. I used to be compassionate. I worry since I am affected by the Mandela effect and traveling the multiverse that my soul might not be what I expected. To be a time traveler is not horrible if you have a sense of humor, but learning alternative history makes me wonder.
Was I kind here? Was I gentle here? I seem to make the same mistakes. And I can find those. However, was I more compassionate on my homeworld? That is an uneasy question. After reading Jorge Luis Borges and others like him, I realize that those traveling through time are experiencing the time of tribulation. The more awkward part of this is the effect the people I know, knew, and will know is to realize when you tell them a story that each part is a bit different from the alternative reality you lived.
Example my world during high school my world did not know if Shakespeare was an actual person or not. Our English literature class discussion was on whether Shakespeare was he one person, or a combination of poets, writers of that time.
Now? Shakespeare’s wife’s name is known. His father was a glove maker. He had children, and his home stayed within the family for centuries. Which brings to question compassion? Was I or am I a good man? If so, I was not the first and evidences shown to me not the last.
What is compassion? Is it time spent? Or being available for a person on need? That is the awkwardness of this. One says why? Example: a very important part of my life’s story is a miracle that happened on my way to pick my soon to be wife. We were to go to Seattle and from there I asked her to marry me. I was picking her up at an airport.
Traveling rather fast to get there an hour before she would arrive. I was going rather fast when my car just went out. No engine, no brake, nothing. Between two trucks on a three-lane road. I got that miracle right there.
Instead of a multi-car pileup, God allowed me to stir the car over to the edge of the road. I got out. Realized that I needed more miracles. So I wake back a mile and a half to a town, purchased a used car again and met my future wife 20 minutes ahead of her plane.
One says that ridiculous. No, what I am going to say is the miracle funny part. After getting married in Idaho we came back to Seattle and I could not get off the right ramp so headed up to the next ramp. Where I see the sign Welcome to Canada. In my world, Canada and Seattle were together. We drove into Canada and off the ramp where we waited for Customs to clear my wife to go back to the US.
What has this to do with compassion? If reality geographics can change. The feelings, emotions, etc that I felt could in an alterative plural meaning worlds. Plural. Where some people have lost family, or gained family during their travels. The evidence from my stories and stories I listen to mean that each reality has a unique soul and perception of that world. Which would mean that each individual world’s reality of compassion was different?
So does that mean I lived in a better world or worse? Did I show compassion to them or their souls for from math and other discussions with other travelers, those worlds no longer exist? They might have had me for 40 plus year but their reality died the most horrible death. Meaning? What compassion I should show for entire families that I knew and lived and loved according to Borgie with that is gone?
My compassion? I worry people forget that December 21, 2020 is actually the actual end of 2012 in some realities. For me and others? If this is a closed time curved CTC loop like math suggests. It would mean I might have to return to those realities. In yet, if they are dead according to CTC loop theory, I guess not hypothesis this would mean according to placement of the next galaxy going to hit this galaxy I have been away from my world 4.5 billions which is according to the internet minus the 365,000 years according to memory when it was suppose to hit Sagittarius the world I called home.
To find out my life is so boring with billions or trillions or more of possibilities is weird. Sure, I am something of an interesting character. But worrying that somehow I screwed my soul at the end of time and my compassion for others is often on my mind these days. For if my speculation is correct, a day is like billions of years and a billion years can be like a day. Did I screw up for billions of years my soul or am I going home for the day of judgment and was I compassionate enough? Sure, I warn people. You are according to time dead and so am I. Repent. Be good. However, I doubt it matters much under the white mirror sun that you have in this reality.