I have been in a world all alone for the past eight months now, don’t get me wrong, I am not lonely and I am by no means miserable with it either. Since I decided I was going to make another major change in my life to help me find that one illusive thing I have been striving for so many years, I have found a great deal of inner peace.
Inner peace, always sounded like a thing of enlightenment, the one thing a believer was searching for in earnest to get whilst worshipping to whatever ethereal deity they have in their lives. Granted I have spent many years in monasteries and religious retreats and even at one point as part of a cult until the realisation that the principles of what they taught were just wrong on levels that only a weak minded individual can latch onto.
But when I talk about inner peace, I am talking about how, after my family died so dreadfully in the Swiss Alps, I was encouraged to create a journal of my life. It was this and the reminiscences of what I have achieved in my life that brought me the peace that my life now needed to reconcile myself that I know I have loved for the last time. When my wife, my children and four other people I loved were taken away I realised that she, my beautiful wife, the gorgeous children are the reason I have spent so many years walk on this planet. My soul mate ripped away from me after such a short amount of time only leaving me wanting so much to join her in whatever is beyond.
I find it difficult to think or even rationalise what is actually beyond life, most people probably do. I can say with an over educated mind that I and I alone am the only person who might never find that unchecked box. I have been alive for so many years, had so many identities that it is not a thing I believe to be in my future. Even the vast fortune I have in trust and equities and goodness only knows what, can buy me what I am actually looking for.
I have people I trust and two people I know I have told about my story one who believes me, because he was my an ex-girlfriends son, not my child, when I met Phillipa in the autumn of nineteen thirty nine she was trying to get to safety from Germany and get her only child out of the way of the imminent war. We were infatuated with each other but I never believed that she loved me and in hindsight I don’t think I loved her either. Her son, Hans, was a different matter, not my biological son and he never saw me as a father but after his mother’s death in nineteen fifty three I brought him up. I say I brought him up but he was a young man, we became friends, real friends and as the years moved, we moved apart. His education was important to him; he went to university in America, a convenient scholarship from the Aosta-Bec foundation. He was head strong and wanted to conquer his world in his way and under his own steam. In the late sixties he moved to the UK after getting his degree and became a lawyer, The Aosta-Bec foundation paid for him to do a doctorate and gain his Masters, the top university in London which also gave him access to a subsidised apartment and small allowance to enable him the ability to finish his studies.
It was in the late sixties we met up again and at first it was very difficult, for two reasons, the first being I was still thirty five years old and our ages are very close together and the second one being that he stepped into my role as non-executive director at funnily enough, the Aosta-Bec foundation.
Stepping back a small amount, when I knew Hans was excelling in school and showed an interest in college or university I set up a foundation called the Aosta-Bec foundation. I gave it the slogan, “History is written and will the future be forever” the foundation was privately owned and had one shareholder, Antoinne Immer. My name before this one was Antoinne Immer, I used my previous pseudonym as the trustee to all my finances. The foundation was privately owned and privately funded, granted I did want to at least break even on the money that was invested in the foundation so there were global offices and a vast fundraising arm of the organisation. Through this I was able to help those who had no help by simply giving money away. We didn’t literally write a cheque for an individual but we build houses for people who had nowhere to live and let them live there rent free for a short period of time to get themselves financially sorted and then charged a below average rent. Blah Blah Blah.
Hans, stood in my office door and when he saw me he was both welcoming and disappointed, I explained that I was an employee and his appointment had nothing to do with me, this wasn’t totally a lie either. I gave his details to the postal department who subsequently passed them onto HR and only minutes prior to this I had tendered my resignation on health grounds. It was six weeks after that I found out that someone who the foundation had sponsored throughout their education had been appointed the position as non-executive director. The youngest they had ever had, which wasn’t hard as I was the first one they had ever had in thirteen years.
Since that time he has remained as the director of the foundation and one night when we had gone out for his thirty fifth birthday, he had asked me how I was still looking as though I was his age after all these years and joked that I should bottle it and sell it on the open market. I then told him the truth and it wasn’t for another ten years that it actually sank in, his swish office party to celebrate his forty fifth birthday was a turning point. Ten years had gone by since I told him my secret, and when I turned up alone he said, “You were telling the truth weren’t you?” and I nodded.
Now that digression to appease things in my head is over, the now seventy four year old Hans, is in no doubt that what I told him all those years ago is the truth. The great thing about all of this is he is the one who helps me change my life as and when I need to. He is the only person I now trust with everything and always have. He was never a son to me and I could never call him one, he is my best friend.
The second person who I have told my story to was the one person I knew would never believe it and will never believe it. She is a professor of psychology and eminent speaker on brain disorders and mental health. She works out of a university in London and she has spent a great deal of time listening to me. She is the reason for me writing sixteen journals chronicling the sixteen centuries I have been alive. She only has fifteen of those journals and whilst I am sat here on the fast train to London writing in the journal I have decided to keep for myself and the journeys I am going to take I have the finished twenty first century journal wrapped in a paper parcel, the paper if it was ever dated will be seen to be over six hundred years old and I have also put an extra little thing on there too. I have retained the sealing wax and stamp from the Abbey of Bec and if she has the foresight to date that, the results will show the composition of the wax is unique to the Abbey and the stamp was unique to one Anselme de Candie Genève, circa 1070.
When I get to London I plan to hand deliver this parcel to her building, there is CCTV but I may not look exactly as she would remember me, it has been almost a year.
All four in this series
In Need of an End
The Forever Lecture
Inner Peace Forever
The 21st Century Journal
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