Memories of a Prince in Quest of his Kingdom
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About this ebook
This memoire recounts a man’s life journey during pivotal years of his career as a young surgeon blooming into an internationally renowned force. Being a private man, very few have had the privilege to benefit from his personal reflections until today. This publication is riveting in its honesty, complexity and depth; no reader will be left untouched or indifferent.
The thoughts shared within this text are developed into philosophical musings that challenge the reader to reflect on issues critical to self-fulfillment. These stories will bring you deep within yourself, often reminding you of your own experiences and guiding you to see reason within the turmoil. Arturo’s vivid descriptions of emotional angst will bring you to tears because his experiences are universal, honest and true. The feelings, experiences and reflections herein are decorticated to a level of granularity that allows the readers to experience and make sense of the stories as they relate to our own lives. Hence, despite being very personal, Arturo’s stories truly belong to all of us; these stories are your own. The reflections around them will make you feel connected to mankind and will instill a sense of serenity and peace as you make your way through your own journey.
Read on then, your journey awaits!
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Memories of a Prince in Quest of his Kingdom - Arturo Garabandal
December 25, 2012
The Beginning
I am like a flag flapping in the wind of desperation. A flag whose identity is revealed only when the wind blows. If the wind is still, then the flag lays low and it cannot be seen. Does the blowing wind detain the identity of the flag? Perhaps the flag itself has its own identity? Is identity measurable by what can be seen, by the people observing us, or is it something intrinsic to our nature and being? What is our nature, and how do we define 'being'?
Is flapping a sign of life or is the flag still alive even if it is not waving? Is reality synonymous with being alive or is it possible for things that are fictional to be alive? What does it mean to be 'real'? Can something only be real if it can be seen? If so, does this imply that only visible things are alive? Is a thought alive even if not real and even if it cannot be seen?
I sit here pondering all these questions, all of which I will try to answer. But if the answer is given by the soul posing the question, is the answer true and valid? Does the act of posing a question require a dialogue between distinct individuals? What is the true nature of the questions and answers?
January 1, 2013
Being and Time
Individuality is the foundation of our self-identity and happiness. Unfortunately, forging a unique identity comes with a heavy burden of consequences. The process involves a detachment from the Whole. This detachment causes pain and sorrow as it is accompanied with the realization that Time is a finite measure. The caducity and the temporality of being pose a tremendous burden. Discovering ourselves as a small piece of the Whole, a piece that is separate and distinct, makes us lose sight of the Whole. Focusing on Ours and this detachment from the Whole is a significant price we pay for throughout our lifetime.
Peacefulness and serenity, essential elements to human wellbeing, can only be achieved when we surrender our individuality and return to the Whole. Then and only then we return to the state of grace and love present in the terrestrial Heaven. By emptying our lives and abandoning personal expectations, we achieve the immortality of the Being, which expands into Time. This expansion and contraction of being is devoid of human characteristics associated with individuality; it is immune to the whims of Time because Being and Time do not coexist. The experience that lies in the expansion and contraction in Time should never be mine otherwise it will become subjective to the rules imposed by Time. Loss of the Mine, the Personal, the subjective, opens the door to the immortality of memory by untying it from the chains of time. Free from the shackles of Time, a memory becomes immortal, breaking the barriers that relegate it to the finite world. Memory is always present because it is not mine; it belongs to the expansion of the Being.
The immortality of Being can be understood if we consider mortality to be a condition that can only exist in the constraints of Time. The Being is immortal when we consider that it has the ability to overcome Time. The moments of our lives, the phases, the developmental milestones (the 30s, the 40s, the 50s etc.) are all engrained in Time. Abandoning the personal experience of life, the mine, the private and embracing the Whole brings us closer to immortality in this lifespan.
What does it mean to achieve immortality in this lifespan? The sad reality is that humans are dead human experiences who drag themselves across the extension of temporality. By personalizing our experiences, we are allowing them to exist in Time and hence making them mortal. As such, experiences keep dying and follow us like ghosts for the remainder of our lives giving us nostalgia, melancholy, pain, and sorrow. The only way to make memories immortal is to avoid bringing them in the dimension of Time. This can be achieved by depersonalizing them; we must separate the experience from the Our. The memory of my deceased mother is everlasting because it belongs to the Being that is associated with me, not Me; the memory is not mine. Because it belongs to the Being of me, this is no longer a memory because existence within the Being is protected from the caducity of time.
My mother is not real if you consider reality to be conditional on presence in the dimension of Time. However, this does not imply that she can’t exist in the Being of me. Being present in the Being implies immortality. That said, the immortal does not necessarily survive after the flesh of physiologically functional body physically die. Immortality, in the terms I am using, simply means to exist in the Being as long as the Being is. Because existence within the Being is a state of immortality, there is no nostalgia or melancholy.
Although my mother existed in the temporality of the expansion of my Being between my chronological age of 0 to 30, she is still part of the Being of me. The one now remembering her is not the same Being who was with her physical presence; that Being has expanded and evolved and will continue to do so. If we imagine a puzzle depicting a lion, the pieces carrying the image