All Chapters of Science fiction: The believable impossibilities : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Dear Honey,Good morning! Fresh morning!Here’s a long letter - Just For You! :)Part IYour queries, questions that arise, are the valid areas to rise, to climb. Your acknowledgments decide your friends, right for you. Have the queries safe. Do not self-discourage. The queries and questions, if with answers or without, will decide the future.This earth will stand out. Answers are simple. The question be yours. The discussion on you is through the questions that stand or ever stood. Queries don’t climb ladders; they shout up straight, even better than answers do.Your queries—may they safely dwell in you as you rise, not by questions of others which you answer. You rise up real when you explore high, your own mind’s questions. So let queries dwell safe in you. No query is fake till fake are you. Then how can you be fake? You stand as real as you.Division, distribution, arrangement—nothing is needed. Every query is supreme in you. You answer it yourself if the world doesn’t have an an

Dear Honey,You can be well, if you want to be well.I know you will recite this throughout the days and weeks.Here's your current letter:Mercy, mercy. The stars shine with confidence, not in stored mercy. There be revision in what you need, what you aim at to achieve. Mercy is cheap; you build self through repute. For repute, do not beg but yield. There is no mercy in store for thee. Create self, a power living being. Not by weapons alone can you win.Mercy, mercy. For the skies do not speak. Whom do you talk to, then? Whom do you repeat? Your health is the weapon you will use on self to yield. So, get up early to pray to self. Mercy, mercy. Why do you repeat? Mercy doesn’t yield happiness any. Disputes, disorganized living, deterrents, defects, and disease all need revision in the way you live, you eat, you think.You cannot beg the skies; skies do not speak. Who speaks? It is inside of you, your own instinct. Listen to it and then excel. Excellence is virtue; virtue is believed. M

Dear Honey,I see you healing more since ysterday. Here's your today's dose of positivity and stress-reducer letter:Wounds that do not heal soon will also be fine one day. You need not imagine an unhealed physical state. Power is within. Life needs a place to re-begin. You grant life that open space. Come cultivate good health on soil, and pluck up weeds that have long stayed.That’s life. That’s in life’s stage. We cannot counter self nor health, for the two links strong. Love of self helps heal the wound. Else what reason to your mind for healing with you give?Today, now, love yourself. Love be announced so that wounds all heal. There is scope for solitude to heal the wounds inflicted in crowd, in groups. I know you feel ill, but there is always a way to feel strong, not weak. You adopt the storm and rehearse practicing strength. You be the cause of right thought, that which mends.The pain in body spreads. Do not let it do so. You stay strong. Pain else hurts like insane. You need

Dear Honey,A serious note for recovery...Culture of occupancy spread, and no shyness in utmost ruling without being any government is governance by culture. That precisely sets limits to even age that calls you old when you live like sane.Culturing the cause, cultivating precept, you don’t deny reason. But culture is baseless in its presence. Why should you obey? Follow after being free. Take the good with you. Leave aside that doesn’t fit thee.For to die after being given life is a sin! You cannot object. You cannot raise a question. A novel thought is met with suspicion. And if you claim you can live longer than any, much, much longer than life has ever met with, you are called definitely “insane.”A novel thought called insane, a new idea met with deep opposition. Such as this, a novel idea is a bud. Let it at least grow, itself reveal. Why do you have to counter so deeply? Such a society of the world is culturally established.Shame on that culture that fails to accept every n

Dear Honey,I begin today straight...A dream. A superficial dream. The need of bread. The realization of dream. Dream rich in attributes. A dream. I know you can fulfill it. If you in self believe. If you preserve self better. With love, not hate. With joy, not dependent on fate.A dream. A justly resemblance of dream. That you too are rate, if not rich. That you too are considered fair by the church, which never in you believed. The walls with blood. The flow of dirty urine. There is pain all around. Life is struggling for relief.There is commitment to dust. There exists no peak. To climb up high was always a human’s unmet need. What is pain? I know, I believe. To refrain. But there is no sound that can entertain me within. No outside sound anymore carries that rhythm.Pain swells up in highs. There is little left to me. What I dream is not by what I live. I live in reality, far from the beauty of dreams. A dream. Still, I suffice. But ask for more. If I could be liked and fulfille