@justtracyjustcause: The Son, the Sun, and the Light. What if we are just an idea? A thought. A dream within a dream of God. A flicker of possibility that made the Creator pause, give a wink and a nod, and say: “Yeah, mates. That’s a good one. A keeper.” And here we are. A Keeper. A Guardian. A Warden. The Human Prodigal. I AM’s Sun. Consciousness & Continuity. An idea with legs, a conscience, and just enough free will to wander off and wonder why nobody packed us a map. “I think, therefore I am.” Fair enough, René. But what if I don’t think? I am unconscious. Asleep. I haven’t ceased to exist. The heart keeps beating. Someone might still be holding my hand. Being reaches beyond what I can presently know. But what about the sleep we carry into our waking hours? Eyes open. Lights on. Same old script running the house. The ego says: I AM. The superego says: YOU SHOULD. And somewhere beneath the argument, a quieter question: Are you paying attention? To yourself? To the person standing before you? To what happens after you’ve had your say? You can shout “AWAKE” from the rooftops and still sleepwalk through somebody else’s pain. Perhaps higher consciousness begins when we notice. When we hear ourselves making the excuse. When we recognise the hurt we handed on. When being right stops being enough to make what happened right. And perhaps purgatory is the unfinished business we keep walking around. The apology rehearsed but never spoken. The truth we edit to preserve our innocence. The connection we broke, then mourned as though it had simply disappeared. Round and round. Same argument. Different kitchen. Same wound. Another generation. Until we stop. Repair what you broke. Some things cannot be restored to what they were. The dead cannot answer. Another person may never open the door again. Forgiveness belongs to them. Still, there is work we can do. Tell the truth. Make amends where we can. Change the behaviour. Stop handing the damage forward. And if the broken connection began with what someone did to us, coming home need not mean returning to them. Sometimes the repair begins with a boundary. Sometimes the person we must learn to keep safe is ourselves. A Keeper. A Guardian. A Warden. What am I keeping? What am I guarding? Have I locked myself inside? The Human Prodigal carries those questions home. Back into connection with ourselves. With a higher consciousness that asks something of us. With God—however imperfectly we understand that mystery. Perhaps that is continuity: what passes through us, what we make of it, and what we leave in another person’s keeping. The son. The sun. The light. A dream within a dream, learning that other people’s lives are real to them. That love has consequences. That consciousness comes with something to do. And somewhere inside the Eye of God, a wink. “Yeah, mates. A keeper.” I AM THAT I AM. Just Tracy, just ’cause. ♥️⚖️🪽 — Tracy Peressini © 2026 Tracy Peressini ⚖️🦉🪽⚜️ #Love #life #faith #Home #peace

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Tuesday 03 November 2026 16:09:40 GMT