So long ago

I see the rivers of time

The flows of eternity

The water that falls

And the reasons behind

 

Those sounds that I cannot sleep too

Another thing I should have said

Echos now

I felt those things fall from the sky

 

An island in the sand

To reach out or into the past

It was the years before

So long ago

 

I can hear it still

The forest, but for the trees

And with that

I can let it all go

 

The castle in the sand

It would not live

And it would not last

And with that it was goodbye

 

So long ago. 

So far away

With each passing, we forget

We forgive

 

So long ago. 

The holy man told me

Forgive and forget

But let it go

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For Ambra

The moving castle

It’s strange, what is in the mind. 

It will be all right.

Because it is in the mind.

It sets us apart. 

 

Letting go; this time and again.

Fragile voices.; the angels dance.

So long ago. 

It was the ‘Riddle of the steel’ 

 

Canyons of the night.

Fires dying down. 

The senses of those things. 

Forever; it has been.

 

Those wings we have found.

To fly away. 

A thousand leagues or more. 

Yet into the night and our abyss.

 

The depth of the fall, 

None shall see or know. 

I feel again. 

It is the raven; the ‘nevermore’ 

 

The place that calls will bring me there. 

I rest now, 

So hard, 

So peaceful. 

 

The castle does move. 

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Gal Gadot

We see in those things that matter; do this and more.

We dream as we should. 

In a cave, and on a plain, in the skies, the light of a candle. 

Wake to a new morning.

Forgive as we forget.

Find the passion that drives you. 

Embrace this and more. 

It is as it should be.

Dance as the song lets you feel. 

The depth of forgiveness is as only as far as the mirror. 

With all that we are, with all we have been, in this life and the next.

Be kind and in truth you shall be saved. 

Freedom is just a kiss away. 

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Sharaya


Chapter one:  Shadows and dust.


I had not seen Sharaya for months, possibly more. I missed her.  But she wasn't the type of girl I could invite over, ever.

It was complicated.


She was my brother’s super geek calculus partner from college and his semi-professional ‘not-girlfriend’. 

She was also a time traveler, he didn’t know that part about her and probably never would.


I am also talking about two completely different girls, sort of.

It was late August in Southern California so it was hot and dry.  Which in the year 1984 was pretty typical for most days where we lived in Temecula. 


The skies were blue but for the occasional waves of smog that rolled down from Orange County on their way to die in San Bernardino.


We had lived in this remote part of south west Riverside county since my dad moved us here 12 years back with the promise of a better life. 


It just didn’t work out that way. 


Some things just don’t.

Back then we were all waiting for the ice age to freeze the planet so we could go to Big Bear in June.


My high school computer teacher Mr. Bowyer told me it was good to have healthy goals and I liked to ski so what could possibly go wrong with some extra snow and the temperatures dropping 140 degrees centigrade for a few thousand years?

On this particular Saturday we are having the estate sale at my parents house. 


It had been a rough few years for my brother and I but our Germanic background required us to be stoic and we didn’t really have any other family.  So we made due and just moved on with life as best we could.


In case you wanted to know, our dad died in a car accident when I was 13 and our mom succumbed to cancer my freshmen year of high school. 


Yes, I know, so far this story kind of sucks.  Give it time, trust me.

 

Back then there were no police around and no child protective services to check up on us. 


Which meant we lived in the house by ourselves and no one said or did anything as long as we didn’t break the law. 


The only time I ever got pulled over was the boarder patrol because me, John, Gavin and Scott we’re driving in the rain with a broken headlight.  The boarder patrol agent walked up to the car expecting something far different than a bunch of dumb white kids blasting Depeche Mode and drinking coors light.  He did however make us throw the beers away.


We were the epitome of ‘latch key kids’ just without parents around.


It was a really different world than where I am now.  That happens to be a story for another time. 


Time being the operative word.


Fate does in fact have a sense of irony or perhaps humor and there was the really large insurance policy that paid off our parents house and the ugly brown Toyota Celica I was driving. 


It also set me and my brother up for college. Which pretty much meant it set him up for college and I would likely do something really earth shattering with my vast knowledge of AppleSoft basic like hack into WOPR.


Anyway, I was sitting around on the front lawn wearing my red and white striped vans, 501s from Millers Outpost, my green Shah Safari shirt and listening to INXS on the ghetto blaster waiting for an appraiser to come look at some family heirlooms to put up for auction.


One man’s heirlooms is another man’s junk was my way of seeing it. But cash is cash and this was the trajectory of life for me now.


Long ago mom and dad had inherited a bunch of ancient furniture from our paternal grandparents that was bought in the 20s from Ms. Rosenstein’s garage sale in Cleveland. 


I never actually figured out the real story. It didn’t matter because we were selling all the stuff and beginning our adult life or some other nonsense.


I wasn’t ever the responsible one, that had always been my brother.  I think he was joining the Air Force or something to fly planes.  My focus was on surviving, so getting into someone’s else’s world just wasn’t a priority.


I was day dreaming about dungeons and dragons stuff and thinking about the next adventure I would create when I see my brothers red and black AeroJet pull up on the street.


I was probably supposed to get up and look busy, but what could he do, kick me out of a house that was up for sale? So I just sat there going back to thinking about dragons eating paladins.


I can tell he gets out of the car and for some reason I hear both doors shut and I actually opened my eyes for a moment to see who was with him.  I assumed it was Ray.  Which was good because I could use the extra money by beating him shooting baskets.


Turns out I was wrong.


I almost fell out of the deck chair I was reclining in when I saw who he was actually with.


My brother starts up the driveway with her by his side. It was taking all of his energy to hold back a grin because he knew I saw her.


As they approach me I try to compose myself a little and blurt out to him, “What’s up pork boy, did you bring lunch?” 


We were close like that.

Sharaya shakes her head at me with adds a slight eye roll, smiling and with a very pleasant voice she says “Hello Michael, how are you? Busy as usual  I see.” 


The sarcasm was a thing with me.


She had just a little hint of an Indian accent and it was a thing that you just  couldn’t ignore.


Sharaya was a mix of Indian and Danish as I recall.  Her mom was a some type of rocket scientist in Pasadena and her dad had worked for the government on some project that I didn’t understand that had to do with electricity and large coils out in Death Valley.


She was scary smart and even my brother had trouble keeping up with her.


I think she had just returned from Jalandhar on a family trip. I had thought she wasn’t going to make it back before the house sold.


I was holding back how excited I was, but not for the reasons you might think.


Just to make sure I played my part as ordained I replied back to her “Why is it you hang out with my brother, you’re hot and he is a glorified pizza delivery boy that will end up flying a bug smasher to Laughlin if he’s lucky?”


She didn’t reply this time but did give me the full head shake and stern look.


Truth be told they were good together.  I think she knew by now he was off to Air Force camp for a few years and wouldn’t be back before she had probably made other decisions in life.


I didn’t get into those details.


When they were going over the items for sale and calculating the net revenue of the items up for auction I stole another long look at her in case I didn’t see her again.


Sharaya was probably five seven, long black hair, brown eyes and truly curves in all the right places.  She had perfect light brown skin and a smile that could light a fire in the darkest of souls.


Honestly It was hard not to stare at her.  She was always well dressed in something colorful that flowed like a gentle breeze.  It was something that reminded her of India she once told me. 


I kind of assumed she got that from her mom.

But the Sharaya walking by my brothers side wasn’t the same Sharaya as the one I knew.

And I mean that literally.


This is where it gets tricky.

At a minimum this was going to sound crazy. 


But I could sense that the other Sharaya was going to arrive soon. And she was the one I was hoping to see.  The only way to describe this was Sharaya was in fact two completely different girls that their path split and they existed in different time-lines.  I still don’t really understand it.  Had not not been for reading a lot of science fiction, none of this would have made sense.


My Sharaya was able to travel through time as she pleased and seeing the other one with my brother was foreshadowing of who I knew would arrive on the lightning when the moon was rising.


Coming up - Chapter Two:  My Science Project

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So naive

 In the twisted and naïve world I live in I believe I can solve problems.


I am usually wrong.


I think in some way my words, thoughts, opinions or pointing out factoids will sway you to see the light.


I am more often than not still wrong.


I absolutely support this country, even when I don't agree with a lot of things going on. And trust me, there are a lot of things going on that are really stupid.


I categorically support the men and women in our military, yet I hope that they never see combat and I think the men who make wars never pay the true price of their decisions.


I absolutely support what the men and women in our police do and how they put their life on the line for us. I don't believe there is any conspiracy by the police to hold be down or oppress some other group.  The media downplays what a shit job being a street cop really is and panders to the mob which perpetuates a few negative stereotypes.


I believe you should stand for the national anthem, not because you love every decision made or not made in the country, but because you have a voice in those decisions.

I believe burning the flag should be illegal.  With the punishment being to help veterans at the VA for a few hundred hours of community service. 


I believe people with money and means that complain with their mouth and not their check book are whiners because those with no money and no means can do little else but whisper into the din of the famous that pretend to care for the unwashed masses; all the while living a pampered life.


The rich and famous have a platform and the ability to make things change with their fame and with their money. But most of them don't. Which makes them hypocrites at a minimum.


I can look past a lot of stupidity and even ignorance.  What I tend to not be able to look the other way on is Hypocrisy. It’s the drink of frauds, charlatans, cheats, liars, entitled-victims, whiners and politicians.


I think my occasional post on social media will shine the light on that one topic that bothers me the most and that people will see a larger truth and a deeper problem in our society.


I go to sleep hoping for that on many nights.


Again, I am usually not only wrong, but completely misguided in that particular belief.

I guess that is the idealist that remains in our cynical world. 


So, I post a thing, it flames up and out and it makes me uncomfortable watching the back and forth of accusatory arguments.  I assume people will put down their bias and believe there is a light to see or find a true middle ground.


Nope. We have become too polarized. And I am yet again wrong and disappointed.


This isn't a trump thing. It isn't an obama thing. Its an ‘Us’ thing. We refuse to give up our position even when we know it is wrong because we believe people on the opposite side of an issue will use that against us.


Which they might.  So what, I say.


We don't bend so they don't bend. And eventually we will all break.  I think Ghandi has a quote on that somewhere.


And at the end of the day this of course simply means we live with our own personal demon of hypocrisy and we perpetuate a ‘two wrongs make it right’ mindset.

We don’t reflect on our actions.  We join the mob and convince ourselves that we hold the chalice of righteousness all the while drinking the koolaid of ignorance with an open mouth and closed mind. 


Which is sad and stupid, and it’s been building for years in our culture.

Some politician said a while back that they wanted to fundamentally change America.  They did, they convinced half of us that we were owed and that we were special and if we didn’t get what we wanted someone was holding us down, and a bunch of other stupid things.  And the masses bought it and are angry that it stopped being fed to them.  

 

The truth set them free and they preferred enslavement.


So now we throw around these extreme terms like dust in the wind now.


Everyone we don't like is hitler. If this person or that person is elected we will all die, there will be a nazi take over, nuclear war, all rights for a given group will be taken away, and then of course it starts to get strange and perpetually escalated into more absurdity.


We cry wolf constantly now.  Every news event is historic.  If we stop watching the news horrible things will happen.  We find a new devil to blame every day.


We claim we are being oppressed constantly.  And then we say more will be taken away if we all don’t agree to some one obscure thing because we were told how dire life will be without it.  The world is literally ending with every new tweet.


We are offended by everything, even when we aren’t.  If you aren’t offended there is something wrong, or maybe you’re the reason I’m offended.  Either way we must enact legislation to prevent anyone’s feelings from being hurt, or we will all die.


Because if we have learned one really bad habit in the past few years it is that whomever screams the loudest must be right.  So we scream.  We yell.  We demand action now.  Anyone we don’t like should be fired, or jailed or killed. 

It’s scary and it is getting worse.


Yet we still do this; each and every day we do this.


We allow our friends to do this without a whimper or sigh back to them.


We allow the media to do this and we still tune in.


We allow politicians to do this and elect them over and over again.


Some idiot in the middle of nowhere wont bake a cake for two guys that want to get married and this becomes the most talked about item on the news for weeks if not longer.


Two women in some random country and publicly caned for kissing and you wouldn’t hear about it over the cake story.


God forbid we offend some other culture  when they throw some guy off a roof because he was accused of being gay and we tell them that wasn’t nice.  Hell no, we wouldn’t dare take an actual stand on something real if it means someone doesn’t like being reported on.


We don't want to offend that country. So back to our news story about cake…


Why is that you ask?


Simple, we only care about the social issues that affect us directly.


Maybe we care a little about a tight group of friends and their issues. But we don't really care much about anything else.  And never outside of the small hex we live on.


Its like spoiled children. As long as I get a cookie, I don't care that the neighbor’s house is burning down.


The state of California doesn’t allow travel to some other state because that state wont pass some law on gender neutral bathrooms. So California bans travel and throws a fit taking some artificial moral high ground.


California however wont ban travel or business dealings with countries that oppress women, enslave workers, routinely kill anyone suspected of being gay, allow the marriage of old men to pre-pubescent girls, murders the masses and no one says a thing in California’s legislature.

You get the idea. 


God I hope someone else sees a problem with this.


Or maybe there is something wrong with me.


And no, I don't want sympathy, nor support for my own level of insanity as it appears.  I’m not going to protest.  I am not going to start a manifesto or begin the insurgency.  I’m going to sit back and wonder why.


I guess I just want to understand what have we become that we cant see these things anymore.


This is more of a rhetorical thing with me.

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The Holy Man

“I remember now”

Three simple words I uttered while I stared out on the wide open plain that was the home of my recent rebirth.

In the past I kept dreaming of a world I thought I would never see.

A place I didn’t deserve but for my actions alone.

Yet here I was.

And alive, to what definition, well that was subject to debate.

Far behind me was the ocean and the coast.  The rocky cliffs were lifetimes ago along with the lingering cold that came with my awakening.

I had come to this world after leaving the chaos behind me.

I had changed.

1982

A hot dry wind blew through the open window of my 1978 blue Ford Capri. This was not to be unexpected during the summer months in Temecula California. The high desert was in fact hot and dry; and desolate.

No one in their right mind would choose to live here I often thought.

The year was 1982 and I was on my way to summer school.  Not entirely by choice, but truth be told I didn’t have anything better to do.  That and my mom somewhat told me I had to go to stay out of trouble.

The Journey to Belief

Flight 2413 left Seattle as scheduled; which was unusual for this specific airline based on my experience with them.  The skies my be friendly, but these people are rarely on time.

I awoke to a January storm that had subsided long enough for the sun to break through the morning clouds in the pacific north west.

The howling of the pre-dusk winds had subsided and it had warmed to a tepid 54 degrees.

The streets were wet and the movement of people had begun; to where I had no clue.

Today I would be traveling back to the final week of my Texas adventure.

Detachment

It’s morning in January. Perhaps around 8:30 am.  I woke much earlier as I recall.

I’m sitting in a small diner that exists in an inconsequential town in West Texas.  

There is a purpose to this day.

The restaurant is on a street that would be easily forgotten if you blinked while driving to one of the many auto parts stores that seem to spontaneously appear on every other street corner in so many small cities in Texas.

The patrons of the diner are coming and going; quite likely related to church as it is Sunday in the bible belt.

From what I can hear, most of them are talking about about the day, the week and repeating the sound bites from some mindless news channel or what is trending on their social media feed.

The beginning - part one

There was darkness and in the darkness I decided to find some light.

It was either that or once and for all plunge into that darkness and be done with it all. I even had my point of exit planned. I thought if all else fails I will drive off a cliff at the Columbia gorge river.  I had been there once before. It was a long fall that would have the desired effect.

No one would miss me is a thought that played over and over.

For unknown reasons I ruled that option out.  I don’t remember why anymore. I guess that’s a good thing.

Where to he asks himself?

So I started to look into what I was and what I had become. I wanted to start somewhere. I had to start somewhere is a better way of saying it.

Leaving The Fog

A while back someone asked me what was in it for them.  

I said ‘nothing’. And left it at that.   There was no answer to the question.  For that matter, there was no question to answer.

And why would you ask me. I don’t know these things.  

There is nothing in it for anyone if you have to ask is all I thought in that moment.

Its the experience of being that is your only reward.  

But what does it take to get to that point?

Lost in time

There is a certain irony to the autobiographical nature of self-discovery.

Finding yourself lost perhaps is a better way to say it.

I was first. I was last. I was always.  Until I wasn’t.

Then where was I?

I still don’t know.

I remember the broken days so vividly. I don’t like that but it’s part of the process I guess.

I remember times and people. And places. Some distant and some very far away.

The Medusa complex

I don’t have any cool degree or PhD behind my name and I’m barely educated.  So the following is rambling about a concept that I’ve been thinking about.

This is a lot more than should be said on the subject. Your eyes may start to bleed with my rambling.

The Medusa complex is how you see yourself, how others see you and seeing yourself in the mirror and taking an honest look at why you do what you do.

Part one

If you think some piece of your purpose in life is to please others you are living a lie that will come crashing down from time to time.  Pleasing others isn’t a purpose, it’s an addiction.

Control

If I were going to try to take power from the masses I would use three basic principles:

 

  1. Perpetuate fear over a thing that only I have the solution for.  Create a new truth from simple pieces of data that you believe are fact.

  2. Convince you that without my help, you will suffer and create offsetting distractions so you never actually determine my lies.

  3. Sell a narrative to divide all those that if they ever unified could remove me from power.  Bait and switch the players and scenarios to ensure the division never ends.