Wanderer Between the Worlds

Recently, I finished reading a book about a fairly spectacular case of afterdeath communication. It’s called “The Afterlife of Billy Fingers” and it’s – I guess we must call it “co-authored” – by his bio sister Annie Kagan, who started recording Billy’s communication with her from the non-earthly, non-physical realm.

First things first: I wouldn’t have touched the book with a pole about 2-3 years ago. At that time, I was a die-hard sceptic borderline (left-brained) rationalist with a cynical streak, who’d only rely in “hard” –  as in: physical, empirical – evidence. “If I can see it, touch it, smell/feel it – it’s real. Nothing else is.” That was my position pretty much. Plus: I was undergoing the probably unparalleled worst time of my life – and I already come from a history of childhood trauma with ensuing PTSD and now complex PTSD including 100% disability, major abuse and a rearing that, in a nutshell, sought to break more of me than it sought to nurture or build. So that’s that. And during those 1 or 2 years starting in 2010 and going on until 2011, I arrived at my absolute personal ground zero: I had lost any idea and concept as to why the fuck I should continue to face this agony that life on this planet in general and in my body and situation in particular not only had become, but felt like it had always been. Why bother? Suicide was not only a heartbeat away every day, I had already begun to research ways of going about it that would yield a 100% “safe” outcome. I was determined not to leave anything to chance and more than anything and “god” forbid: Screw it all up and then possibly awake physically maimed or otherwise irreversibly damaged. I felt that life as I knew it had been nothing but a bad joke, a lie – and life now had become a terrible curse, only apt to subject me to more pain on every single fucking day. If God existed – (s)he must have a personal vendetta with me. That was the feeling every single day and all day for months on end.

But I never carried the plan out… yet: I was stranded. Stranded in life.

Back to the book: Some of the testimonial blurbs on the inside of the cover call its co-author Billy Fingers a “wanderer between the worlds” – much like the many historical texts of similar figures, who somehow get “hung up” on some realm between this earthly plane and other planes of existence and who then wander between the worlds and bring messages from the afterlife to this planet’s inhabitants.

Today I feel a little bit like that, too – minus the obvious thing of having left my body entirely or having passed on. The analogy refers to my previous life leading up to this point and – my potential future. Like I said above: I am somehow stranded in life. Any known, taught, instilled on me concept of what life and one’s personal existence is supposed to be about – any of that died. Some of those concepts turned out to be lies, carefully hidden by those handing them down to me or never understood by them in the first place, either. Other concepts don’t have any personal significance, let alone value any longer. Like – most material things (minus those, which help me express myself, like this dated computer I’m writing on, for example). In a very real way – the old “I am…” no longer exists. However… for the life of me, I can’t even begin to imagine what my new foundation, my new self is based on – or what it’s gonna look like even from afar and roughly “jotted down”. Let’s say, if I took the anxiety away that naturally comes with a state of uncertainty for me, you might as well see this situation as an exciting new beginning, a slate whiped almost clean from previous experiences and “imprints “of any kind – a virgin-like, almost divine situation of new chances, new opportunties. OK, yes, all of that – if … there wasn’t this deeply rooted general angst in me. But even that doesn’t matter much any more. I’m no longer one to give in to fear or angst easily (although I have afforded myself a quite lengthy period of dwelling on and remaining in that mindset). Yet still… from a very pragmatic place… the future looks like a formless mirage, everchanging its shape and colors, continuously moving from one possibility to the next… you could almost call it a “quantum state of consciousness” that presents multiple possible futures for me, one of which is only likely to manifest if and whenever I make a conscious choice about it. With no previous experience worth a shred any longer… this is kind of a tough place to be in. How do you decide, if there is no longer any previous information you could base it on? “Gut feeling”, you say? I guess, it will come down to that, after all. Huh!


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