Love and Loss


Is there a difference between reaching into the past to find someone you loved but  can no longer reach and reaching into the future to find someone you love (or might love), but might never meet?

 Let me give you an example. People around me are forever mourning the loss of touch with a sibling, or maybe the actual death of a sibling. Quite tragic, but they never seem to realize that as an only child, my sibling, that I might love and need, never came into being. I grant you it’s not the same to have known someone, then lost their love–or them. As a spiritual person, I know that a sibling, or siblings of mine, are out there. I can feel them somehow, but they have never, or might never, come into being.


The same is true for someone who has lost a partner whether through loss of love or death.  But has that bereft person ever considered what it might be like for someone who has never found anyone to love them, or who they can love back? We never mourn for the only child with no siblings to give them comfort in old age when parents are gone. Nor do we mourn the single female, or male that is now a senior and as no one to care for them or that they can care for back.

 You may ask: why should we be concerned about the lack of love, the love that never was as opposed to the love that was and was lost?

 In understanding the death of anything, a person, or their love, maybe we should explore their potential for existence (past, present, and future) and what we mean by existence of this type of love. Especially since we choose (or not) to go through so much grief in reaction to it.

 Here’s how the thinking might go:

I already knew this person. Therefore this person exists. But if we live in a virtual world in which our brains generalize what we think we’re seeing, then the existence of the people we know has to also occur in this virtual realm.

 I call this virtual existence of a person within our minds a template. A template our brain has constructed of that person. And from my experience, one does not have to spend much time with anyone to build up that template, or an expectation of who that person is.

 Someone in love with another, if it is unrequited, could totally believe that their loving relationship with that template is real, is returned. It’s possible, because the person we’ve made a template of is not the person sending out the signals.

 What does it mean that the people we know in this world are not directly the people condensed out of the WIBWI (What Is Behind What Is)? It means we can never lose anyone we love, because they are within us. We cannot lose ourselves, because we, our template of ourself, are virtually/symbolically within us, as well.

 Now we can face a second question: If our death is also the death of all the templates we’ve created of each other, if the only place the templates exist is within us, then does everyone and everything that we’ve perceived (through imagining and  generalizing about our world) die with us, as well?

 If so, then the first question might not make sense: Can you reach into the future to find someone you love, but might never meet? 

 If we’ve made a template of our world, what are we doing when we reach into the future? And that question is the same to me as the question of whether it is possible for these snippets (these short events that condense out of WIBWI) can be reorganized only when we’re alive and our templates are active. Or may it be possible that templates re-educate WIBWI, just as a moving and changing front of one liquid interacts with, is changed by and changes, its environment (its own WIBWI).

 So in manifestation, then, we can begin to see how things actually condense out of WIBWI by making a model of how this process might work if a boundary (an existence), though in the form of a mentally projected template, could exist in building blocks or pieces some which might fit together (as if puzzle pieces) with future snippets of life.



2 thoughts

  1. Practical Applications of the General Theory of Non-Existence
    I have long believed I do not exist. The future has yet to exist, the past no longer exists. Existence is the place between the two, where the future begins and the past departs, a continuous wave, blending along a constant line, one into the other. There isn’t a break in the wave numerically measurable, therefore must be expressed as zero. Thus I have concluded: Existence equals the Future divided into Zero minus the Past, E= F/0-P. I am not here.
    I have found many useful applications for not existing. In particular, as it concerns my relationship with Marilee. Most behaviors are controlled by penalty, risk vs. reward. Since I have decided I do not exist, there is no penalty, or control, over my behaviors concerning Marilee, the love of my non-existent life.
    I have been in love with Marilee since high school, but in her eyes, I have never existed. I was as absent in her world as existence was in mine. I saw her as a goddess, golden and sublime. She saw me as nothing. This was very disconcerting before I discovered the formula, developed the General Theory of Non-Existence. Now I am free, no longer a captive of the world of order. I am as random and chaotic as the universe I don’t exist in.
    Marilee and I used to talk a lot, and I have fond memories of those conversations. “Marilee, would you go to the prom with me?”
    Sometimes she was a little negative. But that never discouraged me, and we continued to talk, “Go to the show?”
    “For a coke?”
    In my world of non-existence it really didn’t matter if she accepted or not. It was simply talking that was important, keeping our line of communication open. “Skating?”
    “Horseback riding?”
    “Is there something you don’t understand about the word no, Stanley.”
    There was nothing I didn’t understand about the word. It’s a negative word, mathematically equivalent to zero, and perfectly compatible with the Theory of Non-Existence. I really enjoyed our conversations. The soft tones of her voice were like music, the eye contact intense; her glare riveting. These were the moments I lived for. But that was high school, now we are grown up. Our relationship has matured to the point she no longer finds it necessary to speak to me at all.
    “Marilee, will you go out with me?”
    “I love you.”
    “Will you marry me?”
    I wasn’t depressed by our lack of verbal communication; our relationship was on a higher level, a telepathic fusion of heart and mind. She really saw me, and with her head held high, nose in the air, would walk on by. But it was enough she was aware, and with the theory it wasn’t necessary for her to acknowledge me. This was the blissful state of our relationship, and I was content with our non-existence, until she married Bret.
    Marilee’s marriage to Bret caused me to slip into self-imposed purgatory. There was no escape by applying the Theory; I couldn’t ignore the idea I had been jilted for another. The theory was incomplete; it needed more practical applications. It was at this point that I developed the Practical Applications of the General Theory of Non-Existence, or as I prefer to call it: The Nothing Matters Application.
    I moved into an apartment across the alley from Marilee and Bret. I was two stories above them and could look down through my telescope right into their bedroom. I spent many hours watching their lovemaking, peering through my telescope in non-existence, fully aware of nothing matters. I also purchased a listening cone from the neighborhood Spy on Your Neighbor store that enabled me to become almost a partner in their conversations. It was good hearing her voice again. I also bought a high powered rifle with a scope.
    For me the theory worked, but proving a theory requires experimentation. I loaded the rifle and set out to test the theorem. I went to the park and shot a pigeon. Sure enough, as I held the bird in my hand, eyes absent of relativity, the pigeon no longer existed. I had created non-existence, it didn’t matter, and I had proved it.
    “Hey, why’d you shoot that pigeon?” I heard from a nearby bench. She had short bleached hair and blue lipstick on a perfectly round mouth, and a tattoo of a hawk on her shoulder.
    I walked over and sat next to her. Her eyes were blue, matching the lipstick and tattoo, and a silver pin pierced the skin next to her eye. “Creating non-existence.”
    “Then how about you disappear,” she said.
    “I don’t exist,” I answered, and explained the formula.
    “Then you won’t mind if I take your wallet,” she said.
    I immediately realized she understood the practical applications of nothing mattered. I handed her my wallet.
    She took the money out of the wallet and handed it back. “Maybe you’re onto something, do you know anybody else who doesn’t exist?”
    I noticed she had put the money in her purse and got up to leave. “Can we talk?”
    “You’re not here.”
    I bought a bottle of muscatel and went back to my apartment. I looked up at the sky through my telescope. I thought about everything: space, stars, black holes, quasars, lasers, and quarks. If I don’t exist, and I can create non-existence, and nothings matters, then what further applications could there be for my theory?
    Sometimes reason comes by the way of coincidence. I sold the telescope and the eavesdropping equipment and enrolled in college. I wanted to expand my knowledge of the theory, particularly the physics of it. I graduated with a degree in Chaos Theory.
    Now I design nuclear weapons for the government. I also published the theory. It caused a lot of controversy among scientists. But the practical applications of “Nothing Matters” found acceptance around the world; particularly among generals, politicians, and CEOs.

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