sw00827ekua-page14

Edges of Knowledge


Sunday 2003-06-29
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For the last several years now, I have been trying especially hard
to identify the Lord's passing (i.e., of-the-moment) signals to me,
particularly when a harmless error is involved.  Sometimes, I feel
in my heart, I do identify His signals.  Last Thursday, however, on
the van ride home from Epilepsy Services, I--as I see it now--    
failed to.  It happened there was another passenger.  Usually I am
the only one.  It also happened the driver had never taken me
home before, and so was in need of a few directions.  Then the
passenger called out/ she was bleeding and wanted to be taken
back, but the driver told me the place she had come from was
now closed.  Then the driver missed a turn, and I told her she
did/ immediately; so she zipped into a parking lot to turn around.
There: we were being shaded by some/ rather large trees, and 
there is the place where I/ missed my Lord's signal.  I should have
had the driver stop for a few seconds/ if I could not get right away
what my Lord was telepathing.  Even though the drive from there
to where I live is short, I feel I ought to have talked the van driver
into checking the woman passenger's bleeding/ at that place.

Friday 2003-07-11
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6pm is nigh, and I am feeling hungry again.  Do not know what it is,
but every Friday lately I find myself thinking it is Saturday, or even
Sunday.  This Friday I actually did get to Publix.  After I finish eating
I will need to return to my letter to jls.  I realize God may take one
of us from this plane before any new connection between us occurs.
One paragraph in that letter may soon no longer be there, but it will
be here.  Yes, it is a paragraph about me.  
   *     *     *
   Planets, words, numerals: I was still so held
   by the urge to be a philanthropist, I flatly 
   ignored my lack of all the character traits
   required.  Then my health declined.  Thus,
   instead of being of service to other, as I
   would have preferred, others have been (and
   continue to be) of service to me.  I feel sure
   it didn't need to be this way, but it is; and
   God is, as enigmatically as always, unimaginably
   good to me.  Certainly I/ am not right, if I 
   ever was.  (Sister knows.)  Nonetheless, with
   my Early Retriement Social Security and the
   local services I am allowed to use, I am getting
   on reasonably well.
   *     *     *

Saturday 2003-07-12
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Just as the final revision of my letter to jls finished printing/
several gusts of warm humid wind reverberated against 
this place and into & through the nearby trees.  A space
in me wanted it to mean something, but I could not tell if
it did; and if it did, if it meant good or meant ill.

Sunday  2003-07-13     4:59pm
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All day grey upon grey with only a speck of blue now and
again given the chance to show through; and a smidgen of
rain, and later another dildy-dash; but now the threats and
the foolery are gone; a real wash takes the air, enters the
ground.  Less than 15 minutes.  Still, it was and did, and
my half-thought of a weed eater venture has shrunk dead.

Thursday  2003-07-17
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  Several nights ago I washed dishes out of need.
I had used all 16 pieces of regular silverware; but,
having used my original washing routine, those 16
pieces were all I had left to wash.  At that moment
I decided to take a break.
  Recently I had gotten into the habit of washing the
4 tablespoons, which are made differently, last.  Also,
I usually washed 3 together.  Since they are under
soapy water, I never know which 3 will come up 
together.  Knife, fork, spoon.  Knife, fork, spoon.
Knife, fork, spoon.  And: necessarily: knife, fork,
spoon.  Finally, with the last 2 tablespoons up and
dried, I raised my head, and caught 9:11.  The next
digital was 9:12.  Too strange.

Saturday 2003-08-16 (moving past 4pm)
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The entry below was originally--but differently presented--
in The Blue Ledger.

If I am
allowed in,
I might become
Heaven's Dunce,
or one of them.
-------------------- Today is Saturday:
--------------------    but at 2:34am.




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Brian A. J. Salchert