It is amazing how much we have accomplished as humans here on this planet.  I never understand how all of it works.  Not just grandiose things like rockets that go to the moon or brain surgery, but the more everyday, ordinary stuff like electricity and plumbing, telephones and such.  I used to say to Dan, had the early earth been populated only by people like me- we’d still be sitting in caves carving poetry on the walls.

But even amidst all of these seemingly large accomplishments, I am always amazed at just how little we know.  It always fascinates me that we need to study our own environment- and our own bodies- just to understand them.  And even then- there are so many mysteries, like diseases, that we can’t quite figure out.

I guess I’ve been thinking a lot about the invisible things these days…the things that are possibly all around us, but we don’t yet have eyes to see.

Dr. Ross, again in her book “On Life after Death” uses the illustration of a dog whistle:

“If I blew a dog whistle you wouldn’t hear it, but every dog could hear it, the reason being that the human ear is not made for the reception of such  high frequencies.  In the same way, an average man is unable to behold a soul which is out of physical body while, on the contrary, this stepped-out soul can still register earthly vibrations, and can understand everything that happens at the site of an accident.”  


She is talking specifically about near-death experiences here, but if there exists even something as simple as a dog whistle that we can not hear, I wonder what other realms and dimensions might be around us all the time.

I once heard it said that if you were to take all of man’s knowledge in the world- every book in every library- the knowledge in the brains of every brilliant person that ever walked the earth and combine it, and compare it to the knowledge of just one really smart person- the knowledge of that one person would be just a tiny, insignificant speck.  And this is only the knowledge of man.

I wish, oh how I wish lately, that I could be certain of these other realities- the one where my faith tells me Dan has gone.  But there is only one certainty and perhaps it can also be a great comfort- and that is this:
I know very little.