At One With The Cosmos

Most days I fetch the mail, there are 2 or 3 heavy packages: hardcover books in green canvas sacks. When Wifey's bad back first reared its head, years ago, she learned that the Miami Dade Library has a program for folks who can't make it to the library: you pick out books online, and they mail them to you, free. Wifey signed up, and has sort of forgotten to tell the library she can now make it there in person. So she happily peruses the book reviews and picks out fare I typically like -- non fiction -- stuff about gangsters, medicine, history. I just finished Groom's (the guy who wrote "Forrest Gump) book about great aviators --Lindbergh, Rickenbacker, and Doolittle) and am now about through with a book I'd been wanting to read, "Proof of Heaven," by a neurosurgeon who returned from a near death experience. In essence, the guy, a very accomplished doctor, who worked at Harvard, got an awful meningitis infection and was in a coma over a week. His chances of surviving were near zero, but somehow he woke up, and is convinced he visited other dimenstions while, essentially, higher brain dead. He describes vast universes with love showering all -- and one (or one's being) can do no wrong, and there is complete awareness and consciousness. He's back doctoring, but feels it's his duty to report on what awaits us all after we die. I sure hope he's right. As I age, I keep forgetting more and more, and think I understand less and less, so if in the following stage there's complete knowledge and understanding -- well, it will be terrific. In the mean time, I guess I'll keep plodding along with earthly chores. It appears a dear old friend of mine will be joining our law business, and I'm excited about that. I'm going to put together a kick ass operation, where I can be proud to bring in clients, and maximize their recoveries in cases. I also savor the fraternity we have -- in addition to our group of civil lawyers, my friend Joel has brought in some great criminal defense fellows -- and we all enjoy each other's company (and the occasional cocktail at the end of the business day). Ah, to be loved by the cosmos. Not a bad gig, if it's the inevitable future.