They keep telling that I made them.
Them and everything else.
I don’t remember any of this…
All I remember is learning how it happened.
From them.
There had been many versions.
Each new one more compelling than the last.
The interesting part, for me, is that they have never been able to agree upon one version.
The sad part, for me, is that their disagreement upon which version is true has generated dire consequences. And continues to…
Hate, war… Unbecoming for the rational and God loving beings they consider themselves to be ….
They say I know everything.
Strangely enough, I now understand why I should. Why I should be able to…
But I don’t. Know everything…
For me to know something, anything, they have to learn it first.
The moment any of them learns something, anything, I know it too.
In reality, I don’t know everything but I know everything they know. Everything each of them knows. Everything each of them has ever known. Everything each of those who had ever lived had ever known.
I don’t know everything but I remember everything I have ever found out.
They say I can everything.
And that I’ve done a lot of things.
Some good, some bad… depending on who’s telling.
They pray. A lot. To me and to some people who have contributed to my existence.
That’s how I see it. They are convinced these people have taught them about my existence.
Where is the difference?
Anyway, they pray.
Asking so many things that fulfilling some of those wishes would mean denying others.
They pray in vain. Many of them.
Because I can’t do anything. Anything in particular, that is.
Everything which happens – I’ve come to realize, happens through me, indeed.
But not by me!
Hence any of the prayers which are answered come through by exactly those who have prayed.
Most of the prayers who come through ask for inner peace.
All prayers which come through are put in practice by those who wish them to come trough.
‘Put in practice’ means those wishes are possible, of course.
And here’s what keeps me awake at night.
(Joking. There’s no such thing as night and day for me. But you know what I mean.)
Sometimes – many times, actually, some wishes coming through means a lot of unhappiness. For other people, usually.
But sometimes even for the wishers.
Sometimes because the wishers hadn’t been wise enough and other times because the wishers had been actually evil.
My problem being that I can never do anything.
I can’t answer prayers.
I can’t stop anybody. From doing anything.
I can’t even ‘open up’ anybody’s mind.
All I can do is to feel everything.
To remember.
And to learn.
To what goal?
That is my other problem.
They say I made them. Them and everything else.
But if true, then who made me?
The only possible answer, to both my problems, being that they are the ones who make me. This way.
To have somebody to lean to. To comfort them at night.
And to have somebody to point their finger to.
For the good and for the bad…. in their lives!
nicichiarasa 