Entry 52: in which I ruminate further on the Mrs God thing

Now you must not think that I am obsessed by Mrs God, worthy though she it. It's just this hole in my memory that's nagging away at me.

While cogitating thus I stumbled across a rather frightening possibility. Has there always been a Mrs God? And if that's weird, it is any weirder than not having the faintest idea of how we met?

But this leads to further desperately worrying thoughts. Like has there always been me? It certainly feels like it but that's no criterion.

The alternative is almost worse, which is if there hasn't always been me, then how did I spring into being? Presumably some (even) higher entity created me.

But it gets worse and worse. Did a 'higher' higher entity then create the higher entity that created me? This is getting ridiculous. Even I can see an infinite regress when it's about to run me over.

The only crumb of comfort that I can glean from this is that spotty undergraduates in odd corners of the sentient universe will be beating their brains out over exactly the same thing.

Serve them right.

Entry 51: in which One is astonished

Decided that there has been enough shilly-shallying around the circumstances of my first meeting with Mrs God, so did the obvious thing and waylaid her.

Came straight out with it: "Now look here Mrs G; do you remember exactly when and how we first met?"

To my astonishment this apparently straightforward question was met with peals of laughter and the response "Oh, you are funny!"

And she wandered off cackling to herself.

I mean, for goodness sakes!

Entry 50: in which I reflect on something strange

With Mrs G assuming a higher profile once more, I have been reflecting on something a tad strange. It is this. In what circumstances did we meet?

Now bear with me on this one.

I know it's been a long time. But time for a deity is a rather slippery concept. Whereas biological creatures are swept along in what might be described as a linear stream of time, deities find themselves floating in an ocean of time. They can move this way and that, though not too far and not too fast. More usually they are prepared to move with the ebb and flow of time's tides and subtle currents.

In other words, no, it's not simply a matter of forgetting. Though I'll admit to a certain forgetfulness ...

No, it's more like, when I look into that part of what has been, I just get this kind of swirling emptiness, which defies introspection.

I could of course simply ask Mrs God if she remembers how we met, but I hesitate for two reasons

(a) she might not remember either which I find disconcerting or
(b) she might remember all too well which I find disconcerting

None of this is helped by a stupid bit of doggerel that goes round and round in my mind "God finds it odd".

Well of course I do.