I have something I call my public journal. Some might call it a blog. I used to call it a ‘Lifestream’, but the name doesn’t really matter. Does it? 🖇️ It’s here.

‘It’ is a chronological record of thoughts I have had over the years. (The Philpin domain moved to its 26th year - this year and the oldest post that I have yet found turned 21 (I keep hoping that I will rediscover the first 5 years somewhere.) Hope is good. Right?

There are gaps of days with nothing … not that I didn’t have a thought or two, I just didn’t record that thought on the ‘stream’, sometimes not even in the journal that sits in a ‘private’ corner of the words stored as 1s and 0s on my computer.

There are also some days where you can see 20 or 30 separate posts … and that doesn’t include the ‘extended thoughts’ … that are also recorded there.

If it wasn’t there, would the world change? No.

My life - all ‘three score years and ten’ (plus or minus) of it - is but a blip in the matrix, much less these words.

Which is to say that it was quick. Relative I suppose. But it was.

With two actions, I was 🖇️ gone and then 🖇️ not gone.

To tell the tale.

The tale is incomplete - until the future joins it. There is no past. But past is incomplete without future.

Oh - and of course I wasn’t truly gone. Just from this node.