|Taken this morning - the steps leading to my bonus room upstairs at my house|
Last night I visited 'The Other Side' again. You say "what is The Other Side?" Oh, you know what it is. Yes, THAT 'Other Side'.
When I went to bed last night a storm was passing through this area of the southern Delaware coast. Here on the coast we usually are spared the brunt of such storms. Through the noise of the howling winds and rain beating against my windows last night, I easily drifted off to sleep after watching episodes 3, 4 and 5 of 'Downton Abbey' on my DVR.
|Downton Abbey dinner with the Dowager Countess|
Sometime last night during the night, while I was in my sleep induced coma I visited to The Other Side again. Lately I've been making a lot of visits to The Other Side. Last night's visit was a pleasant one. I awoke this morning feeling refreshed and full of anticipation that when My Time comes, a better place awaits my soul when I depart from this earthly body:
|Clouds over Route 1 Southern Delaware|
"Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth Of sun-split clouds-and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace, Where never the lark, nor even eagle flew - And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod The high, untrespassed sanctity of space, Put out my hand and touched the face of God."
|The face of God?|
|Hellfire and brimestone preacher|
These are the religions who have tortured, maimed and killed countless millions over the centuries (and continue to do so to this day) if you fail to follow their interpretation of religion. Organized religion has zero creditability with me. Ever since I was condemned to hell when I was ten years old by a Pentecostal preacher because I was born gay, I knew then that organized religion or 'man made religion' as I call it, was a fraud whose only purpose was to control people.
|Accusing preacher - where is the love?|
Organized or man made religion has no meaning for me. However, unlike many of those who subscribe to organized religion, I do not condemn those who practice their version of organized religion. They condemn me but I do not condemn them. They express their sorrow of the 'loss of my soul' but I am happy that they have found their Way. I am very sincere when I say when I say that some of them are truly concerned about me and my soul. However, what I say to them is "Do not worry about me, worry about your own soul." For you see, I am the master of my own soul which is what drives those who control organized religion to consternation, frustration and distraction. But I'm getting off on another whole tangent here which I could write volumes on. Besides, this argument has been made many, many times and I will never convince the True Believers so what is the use? It's like pissing in the wind. You feel good because you're relieving yourself but your piss gets all over you.
|Structures for the Canal Front Park in Lewes at sunset|
This is what I know. Last night again I visited The Other Side. Most dreams I don't remember the details but I remember the details of this dream. I dreamed I was back at Girard Bank in Philadelphia in the 1960's. I began working at Girard Bank in March of 1965 in the Trust Department. All my life I wanted to work in a big bank in a big city and that day my dream was realized. I was in heaven when I began working there because all of my dreams had been realized.
|A real luncheon that was held in my honor at the Bellevue Strafford Hotel 1986|
In last night's dream I dreamed that a luncheon was being held in someone honor (I don't know who) and I was invited to come along. I left the operations department and went downstairs to the Trust Administration Department with all the pooh bah's of the Trust Department. As the head Mucky Muck was leading us to the dining room under glistening, crystal chandeliers and red velvet flocked wallpaper; I was having trouble keeping up. I don't know what was delaying me but I couldn't keep up. They eventually went on without me and I had to go back to the lunchroom that we in the operations department ate which wasn't near as glamorous as the Trust Administration lunchroom (which I never ate at in real life by the way).
|Girard Bank - banking floor|
|Girard Bank Operations Department|
|Girard Bank - Philadelphia, PA|
|Mom, my dog (and best pal) Horace and me - I will see them again some day|
When Bill goes to sleep at night he often says "I'm going to sleep and get out of this world." I often tease him by saying "You don't like me anymore? You want to get away from me?" He says "No. It's not that. You'll understand someday." I think I do understand.
All of the people on my blog roll are younger than me. Some of them are gay men who have come out late in their life and are now writing about their regrets over what they have missed by not coming our earlier. Some write about their day to day lives. They write about their families; wives and former wives, kids, snow, trips, weight loss, jobs, political agenda, religion, et al. While I find most of their blogs interesting, I haven't found a blog writer yet like me who is nearing the end of his time and is writing about his (or her) impending departure. I am curious to know if I'm the only 69 year old gay man who thinks this way or if there are others out there in the great blogosphere like me who wonder what's going to happen to them after they breath their last breath and go to the Great Beyond.
|Me on a mountain top in Tennessee - close to "God"|