A Man’s Oath

My 55th birthday is near. This number reminds me of the British State Express 555 cigarette.

My 55th birth-date ends 55 years of my physical life, as it makes room for 56th year to come and go, by renouncing 56-year-in-a-total: to count from my conception and round to now. I knew what I did, and I still know nothing deep inside from what I could cover up with so-called-what-I-know. I know now, this present moment, from my sensory perception, that I am alive, present and feel what the presence will present to me: I knew past accounted by my memories; but I can’t know what is next, don’t know what tomorrow will be, and will never know what happens after death. I know for sure, that this body will die (expire), but my spirit is still alive and I-my-spirit will still exist inside heaven, after its death toll.

I have vowed that I will live a memory free life, which is contrary mega-speed super-computer with latest largest memory capacity, so that devils in hell cannot find and see what I did in life; because my body is memory free, hell will leave me alone and my spirit is free to rise and leap, with the welcomers on-the-other-side flying ahead of my elevating spirit, angels around, dome above, towards the heavenly home above its dome, above hell.

 555 or heavenly (hell-homed-holed) home! By the way, I agreed to take on a family name beginning with H and I can easily team up with your first-name or family named H initials, or share with you with words beginning with H: such as hope away from home, home-welcoming happiness, hell-evened heaven, and so on.

All I know now is that it is not the life I lived counts, it is my memory cells that have recorded and recounted what I did count. It is not because I cannot remember a thing, it is my memory brain that remembers the real deeds above and beyond my stupid needs.  If the Creators want me to do something, it is above my sensory perception; if the ether of that upper and pure air in eternal kingdom tells me neither either nor other, and if my soul agrees upon and vows that solemn oath in front of this divine ether, my organic human sensory device is nothing, means nothing.

Lord gives birth to my spirit. My parents wrapped this spirit with a virtuous template called human flesh inside their joint adventure called my zygote, as my fetus was wired by its umbilical cord that could afford its placenta, my vocal cord announced my boyish voice, and my memory cells record, ever since, each and every deed I did, indeed, inside my memorable memory chip, only for the sole purpose that devils in hell can inhale them inside their hellish realm and spell them out on me, to bounce my spirit back to life again.

If Lord takes, it will not take my earthly, humanly, personally and selfish deeds; it will never take my memorable lifelong, passion-belonged and habit-prolonged events accounted as experienced memories, nor it will take any of my memorable accounts. If Lord marks, its remark is bigger than what I can park with expectation; if Lord’s leg ends in my vision as a promise, its visit belongs to its legend, not my handicapped illusion; If Lord’s last train is almost filled to its capacity, please take my weight-less, un-sized spirit, which is lighter than a peck of cosmic dust, lighter than a speck of fake, lighter than a minus plus neuter (minute), lighter than a subtle in front of a vital that is beaming its portal before it becomes a particle.

Before I vowed I want to die a memory-free life, I vowed something else. I only know now my real life hasn’t begun yet, and I also know that I am going to die; as I further know that I am not that important, my oath is very, very potent, it matters all before my life turns into nothing.

Since I was 7 and saw a dead body, each time a person died around me, there was that feeling of emergency: his/her time has expired, I must finish what I am here to do, and Nobody can do that for me, but me.  So, my earliest vow was an oath pledged before a dead person and his dead corpus. This my earliest vow was: finish up my assignment before a deadly emergency threats me as an emergent matter or an urgent care. From this, as I know now, light is fast but life is slow; life is fast but its assigned to-be-finished sign is slow; a sign is as fast as it can flee, but an agreed assignment below any silent ordeal is as slow as immobile hell.

To speed up the slow sign on behalf of a life assignment as if a calling is as fast as the very first life-gasping voice can afford, since a real calling is a call to wake up the frozen soul buried inside the sensory-wrapped flesh. So, the emerging sign was an oath I vowed from the depth of my heart, and ready to emerge my life with a-matter-of death is the calling of a spirit’s emergency inside its soul-napped and flesh-snapped body.

To visit a vision, one should never be trapped by neither an illusion nor a dissolution; but stand high and tall, stand solid in solemn condition, so that your vow is the accumulation and combination of all vowels made by your organic organs, so that your pledge is above and beyond what a knowledge can ledge, so that your swear is above and beyond what your body-and-belief can wear, so that your promise is smarter than a mice can mine its enlarged cerebellum-minded business inside your cerebellum beneath your human cerebrum, so that your word links to a bird singing the your coming morning and this word can send forth (ether) what the voice of a life can do to the silence of a death.

My real word speaks only from my alive vocal cord, either true or false; my real promise is to run and leap ahead of scientific mice, before a hypnotized promise dices on an unavoidable forfeit; my real vow is my spirit can rise above ionosphere, in and after life, and away from any given ionization process: its delayed vision, its deflated fate, its decaying prophesy; so that debt threats me lesser than death threads my agreed urgent calling, so that my emerging faith merges my oath with the sounds of heaven and the music of love; before time dials a minute second, before human love dilates a dictator, and before a dictator can dictate my life with his word, his demanding vocal capillary (vocabulary), his fake promise, his dissolution. My real oath is to merge my spirit with that fast and slow emerging process, sensory threatening emergent, illusion free emergency, before any subconscious can submerge below any super urge can surge.

What I am telling you here, as what I am revealing myself here, is that I made a vow and I vowed an oath. The oath was to find, initially, what the Chinese culture has that no other cultures have. This oath led to auto-movements and automatic writing, where I ascribed and wrote Lao Zi’s wish and blessing onto me without my conscious presence and ego-dictatorship. This Oath has fired me up and beaten me down for 30 years to the point I couldn’t breath, couldn’t promise to any person, any other agreement, contract, promise and belief.  This oath has been my single faith: not to let down my calling upon my soul’s purest and highest agreement at the time; not to present and release the teachings to the wrong person, at wrong time; not able to commit to any relationship, family or business, professional or vocational. This oath has lined and realigned as I stated here the earliest know of fleeing timed-presence filled with merging visions, emerging signs and emergent callings.

The Oath is: nothing lasts in this external, physical, temporary and changing world. The Oath is: you ought to complete your calling before your sickness drags you to hell; finish your assignment before the death can sign you a new death note. The Oath is: to reconnect your voice to a higher calling so that this call includes all word-attracted agreements, need-based promises, fortune-retailed pledges, fate-attached vows, and faith-binding contracts; but mostly This Oath opens a door to vast, speeds up your urging needs with emergent sign, and renounces your spirit with a kind of voice only God knows, silence agrees, virtue smiles, and love delights.

So, a man’s oath is a true human being’s vow upon his faith, in front of his fate, surrounded by fortune-based and illusion-enticed pledges, and aside from his superficial promises and meaningless words. This oath is heavier than your life and your mental calculation can combine, but it is lighter than what any hell can punish you with a death.  This oath is inside a dark path that only a narrow gate can afford to open with an arrow-head to a spirit-charged-and-delighted state of brightness. This oath doesn’t have any word of an agreement, but promises you with a green light. This oath is not to know what an edge can ledge its pledge, but to know time is up, get up from your ass, stand still and strong, say straight ahead, and vow from your gut-fired soul that: you are here on a mission, for an assignment, upon a calling.

This oath is divine emergency, divine promise, divine presence, and divine truth that only can be known by your eternal faith. This oath connects to mystical, so that miracles can happen, prophesy can promise, live can vow, dream can wake the streams of consciousness, truth can speak its own undefeated word.

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