Confession to My Friends & Students

Písmo: A ++ A --

Having turned my trading screens off… I sat in the near dark, sipping coffee and watching the full moon outside.

I thought of the coming next few days. The Christmas which marks 2000 years since Christ was born, and the approaching new year which brings the very last moments of this millenium and the possible turmoil of Y2K as so many predict.

I wondered if this Y2K thing could be as bad as they say. Will there really be chaos, rioting, death?

Also I thought about what a tough time I just went thru this past year.

A scary car crash, a couple of malicious idiots trying hard to attack me and my business every way they could. Oh well. And then my back injury sometimes SO painful it was hard to breath. Literally.

Then I realized how terribly petty I was being. How selfish of me to think these things!

I survived the crash almost unscathed. I have learned that every cowardly attack makes me even stronger. And my spine. It heals little by little and I will be fine before I know it. How horribly petty of me to think it has been a bad time. It has actually been an amazing, amazing time!

And strangely enough, at that very moment, in the stillness of that beautiful night, I started wondering of my own day of passing…

Is there really enough forgiveness to admit me to heaven? And I thought about that crucial day.

Tom, it was hard, the voice said. We had to bend a lot of rules to allow you here. But now that you are here, let me explain how it works, okay? This is a place of pleasure, the voice went on to say. A place where you choose what you would like to experience. So what is IT, Tom, that you like to experience, everlasting?

My own voice was stronger than I had imagined it to be. And I said with gentle, but deliberate words;

I want a good cup of coffee in the mornings. I want a free mind knowing I can do whatever I freely choose. And I want a strong and sound body so I can enjoy anything that very mind comes up with.

I want to smell the roses and fresh cut wood. And hear the purr of a cat. I want to hear the voice of my daughter and maybe a group of kids laughing.

I want a piece of land by the pine woods where I can smell the dirt and feel thick, cool grass. I want to watch the sun rise and set.

I want to feel the sun on my face, wind at my back, and the scent of nature all around me. I want to watch storms and snow fall and I want to see peoples faces when I make them smile.

I want to feel the touch of a beautiful and caring woman and experience the golden moments only she can give me. I want to sit with her while we tell stories and share truths between us.

And although I am being tired of them oftentimes, I still want people to come to me and let me teach them of life-lessons I have learned.

I want to witness birth and be there to comfort when a life on earth is done.

We can arrange that, the voice said. And I was happy. Looking forward to my personal treasures being laid before me.

Then the voice said; Let us remove your scars.

Oh no! I spoke to the voice. Please, never remove my scars!

And why is that? The voice asked.

The scars in my mind allow me to weep for those I love and represent an experience I can share to comfort others.

The scars in my heart give me the ability to fully understand the fears and grief of others and to stand beside them during their troubling times.

The scars on my body tell stories of when I was foolish or courageous and help me to steer others clear of such dangers.

Is there anything else we can do for you, Tom, before you start this journey?

…And all of a sudden I realized something very startling.

The things I requested be given to me in heaven, I already have right here on earth.

Everything. Just the way I want it and when I want it.

But the voice came back again and insisted; Is there anything else you want?

Yes. Like millions of others I would like to see peace on earth, and goodwill among men.

And the voice said… Yes. We are working on that.

Merry Christmas to you all, and thank you for providing my heaven.

Tom Repik

Dec 19, 1999