How To Read

Read the following blogs in order as they show on this page, or in reverse date. So January 25 is Chapter One, January 24 is Chapter 2, etc. 

Life Happens Part 1

My life seems to be going downhill in a soapbox car. Which can be nice, the wind in my hair as I cruise past the folks slowly chugging uphill with expressions of pain and hard work on their faces. Smiling and waving at the stationary onlookers cheering me on. There is no rear view mirror to remind me where I've been, only the downhill road in front of me. Though I can't see too far ahead either as I need to keep my eyes on the few feet in front of me. An exhilarating feeling this is, to be free. No cares, no responsibilities, and no brakes. In one fell swoop the feeling turns to fear and I realize that going down means I have to at some point go back up. I look again at the onlookers and hear not cheers but jeers. The uphill lane faces are not pained but determined. No mirror so I turn around and see a life fading in the distance, a life worked for and lost, a life failed. Again I am forced to look ahead of me, the bottom of the hill approaching fast, faster than expected, faster than I want, faster than I can handle?

Life Happens Part 2

Handle? I grab the wheel and try to pay more attention to what's ahead. The bottom of the hill is here, what now? Nothing. Ahead there is nothing. Straight, flat, empty, forever ahead. The exhilaration is gone, the past is fresh in my mind. Memories stream across my vision...recent memories I thought I knew. I watch as I would a new movie. I don't remember this scene I think to myself. At least not this way. More movies, more scenes, more stuff I didn't write. I am entranced in this life I led I didn't know. Wait I didn't understand, yes that's it, I didn't understand what was happening. As the lead in the movie I was making, I created a character and played him well. I gave my all to the role and became entrenched in the character the Director gave me to play. Watching now in the audience interpretations change. My perception of reality is questioned. Am I that character? I want to talk to the Director, I need a rewrite!

The Director

Rewrite? NEVER. Who dare ask for a rewrite.  Do you think I have time to rewrite every story just because you don't like the ending. You liked the beginning I'd wager. And most of the middle. But Ohh whine whine whine all the way down the hill. Life is what you make it, and once made that is the bed you sleep in. Oh, it's a bed of nails is it? Well sucks to be you then doesn't it. Shall I tell you what each nail is from? I take it you don't remember. You should, you hammered each one yourself. I think we'll start with the one right there in the middle. Yeah that really big one. Its a special one, your first one. It wasn't so big when you nailed it, but it grew. It's honesty pal. You know that most important part of any relationship. Don't make that face, I didn't say you were lying to them. That my dear boy is you lying to you. The rest of the nails, small ones, big ones, they're just an extension of that first one. They're all connected and underneath one leads to another and another and they feed that first one. Tell you what, you want a rewrite, here's your hammer try using the other side this time. I'd start with the big one.

Hallelujah

Hallelujah! I try pick up the hammer, it's heavy and very big, as big as the nail I need to pull out. I can't lift it. I look around for help, and realize it's very dark. I can't see anything, anyone, any light at all. I cry out with all my might, HELP!!! nothing. Again I scream at the top of the my lungs I NEED HELP ... still nothing ... nothing. No response, where is everyone? Friends, family, have they abandoned  me, am I such a failure that even my trusted have resigned me to darkness. I start running, any direction will do at this point, and calling out is there anybody out there, does any body care? I stop. I hear something, far in the distance, its music.

Hallelujah. A thought, I close my eyes and suddenly I see. I open them, darkness. I close my eyes again, and I am washed with light. They are here, not in my old reality, but my new. My trusted are here. One hands me the hammer, smaller, lighter, I can lift it, I can wield it, I feel strong, powerful, I can do anything when my trusted are behind me. I turn around, a slight smile, a small tear, and I stride back to the nails, back to my old reality, back to what I must do, and with my trusted behind me, I hold my hammer high, ready for the work ahead.

Boxes

With hammer in hand and my trusted at my side, I return to the scene with new vigor, ready to tear at those nails which were stopping me from moving on. But when I arrived there was no bed, no nails, only boxes, piled high as far as I could see. I looked at the first one "kitchen stuff" written in black permanent marker. I could still smell the arid odor, these had been labelled recently. Another one, "bathroom", another "computer". I realize these are my things all boxed up and ready to be moved. But I don't want to move. I'm not ready yet. I have nails to destroy, a life to fix, a bed to sleep in again; renewed in honesty and trust and love. That's what the Director said, repair the bed, remove the nail, and all will be well. I know that's what she said. I see another pile of boxes and I move to them, "for sale" they are labelled. I open one, "Hey I'm not selling that, we used that for..." and then more boxes I run to them, but I can't read what they say, the label is blurred. So I try to open it, I can't, they are sealed, I find a knife and rip at it, nothing, I take my hammer and try to smash it, no damage. I try to lift them, I'll just move it back to my pile and work on it later I think. Too heavy. I turn to my trusted and ask for help. Blank stares. The one who gave me the hammer shakes a head, no. 'These are not yours anymore we have other work to do.' I crumble into a ball and watch as the boxes disappear one by one and I am helpless to stop it. I weep. My trusted weep with me. Our tears form a river and the "for sale" boxes float away.  I look back at my boxes and one by one unpack the things in them. I give each item a new name and a new place to fit. I notice each box I open is only half full, the other half an empty space and I know the blurred boxed are the same inside. When all the boxes are unpacked, I see my bed of nails, and notice the center nail seems smaller, still too big to just yank out, but definitely smaller. I feel sadness knowing the Other is doing the same thing as I. Yet also a sense of relief, my first task complete, my first nail destroyed, I hope they are not all as difficult as this. My trusted, my hammer and I look to the east as the sun rises on a new day, and we march west ready for the next nail. 

The Unknown

Invigorated I search for the next task set before me. Waiting... waiting. I look around and nothing is set before me. The waiting is excruciating. I turn to my trusted quizzical, they just shrug and sit and wait with me. I check the bookface, no updates. I look at the calender and notice information missing. Odd but it could be not working. I am tired of just waiting, so I take a nap. I awake in a sweat, what if this is it? What if now there is nothing but waiting. No longer in the loop, no longer in the know, no longer able to see what is happening with the Other. "Who cares, it's not your business anyway" I turn, it is my trusted speaking. Of course it's my business, I need to KNOW. There is nothing to fear, there is nothing wrong with knowing. We have always shared everything. Why stop now? Is the fear something I might do? Something I might say?  I accept moving on, I acquiesce to your new life without me, but not in secret. You promised. Friends was the hope, friends was the assurance, friends don't lie. "Friends don't judge, friends don't interfere." Again my trusted. But Why is all I can stammer. Why Dammit. Because trust is more important than knowing, more important than understanding, more important to a great friendship than anything else. I look at my trusted again but they look at me, I realize I said this. I trust therefore I am.

Medicine

I wonder about life for a while. Meaning. Purpose. Reason. Is this all there is? I wonder about Destiny. Choice. Free will. I wonder why my trusted look sick, and they tell me to stop wondering I'm making them dizzy. Walking around in circles is harder than one might think. Especially when your brain is moving fast, your feet too slow and you wind up with your head up your ass. This is where I found myself at this point. And I don't recommend it, it really stinks in there. Which makes me wonder if I should have had that extra side of beans last night. So how to get my head out of my ass and back to smelling roses. A number of ideas occur to me. Push, squeeze, relax, repeat. No, too dangerous. Call my gay friend. No, ran out of lubricant. I've got it, I'll poll the audience. And the the results are in: 1% you're not funny, OK that is to be expected; 10% save the planet, .0005% tax cuts for the rich, alright reading the wrong post, no worries; here we go, 34% only you can prevent forest fires, wait that can't be right, oh only you can present future faith and hope for yourself, very nice, a little heavy, something to consider; 65% watch Animal House laugh you're way out. YES, that's it, laughter, funny, good times, next to sex the best cure for anything. I'm free. And in tribute I quote from the funniest film ever "Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor." " NO"  "Germans?" " Forget it, he's on a roll"  (©1974 Warner Brothers) So from here on out even when things get down in the dumps I know I can always laugh to help me out. Thank you every one and goodnight.

Blood or Passion or ?

Is it the end? Have I traversed my trials, and made it out the other side? Or is this just the lull before the storm? I have been waiting a while now for my next task. My trusted are bored, my hammer is rusting, I need to pull some nails. How am I to fix my bed, to move on with my life, if there is no task set before me?  I wake every day expecting some new grief, something to get angry about, or cry about. In the distance I see mountains, but they get no closer no matter how far I walk. I look behind me and there is the hill I came down still close, my soapbox car still there where I left it. I could just turn around, maybe if I just put in a new engine, I could start back up my hill. I know that road well, I know where I went wrong, I could make the right turns instead of the left. I look to my trusted for some much needed guidance, and I see a new group of people next to my trusted. More help is always appreciated. I approach them and they seem familiar, yes that's it, they are my blood. I had lost much blood on my last trip for when I began that journey some of the lines feeding my veins were pulled out. Others remained but provided less when not part of the whole. The Other had helped me through the initial loss not with blood but with life passion. Taught me how to survive without the blood. I could use some infusion now though, gain strength and energy, now that the passion is gone. I move even closer and see they are holding out needles ready to provide me the nourishment I desperately need so much. One more look back at the hill, seems more distant now, that road is no longer available to me so I look again towards the mountains, they are closer and I can distinguish two different peaks, and now two paths before me. I have to have my nourishment if I am to succeed. I need it, I can't live without it now. I take the first needle and insert it in my veins, the rush is great, exciting, I am floating. I lay down on my bed and the nails feel like little fingers messaging me, I feel no pain. I take another needle. I need more. Euphoria is overtaking me as I move to the path on the right, a well traveled path, a path I am familiar with where my blood awaits inviting me back in. As I lay there being pulled toward the familiar path, a voice in the back of my mind reminds me there are two paths and I must choose.

"Hero"

When we last saw our hero, he was on a precipice about to fall into something horrible, something despicable, something ... ohh who am I kidding. Our "hero" was being sucked down a path of his own creation, and with no will, strike that, no balls to make the choice that was required, he was being torn in two. Laying down feeding off his blood, while reaching back to grasp at a lost life, our "hero" again here's a whisper in the back of his mind "you have a choice to make, and only you can make it". Struggling to focus on that voice, he has heard that voice before, yes that's it. The Director is back, blessed be. The voice louder again, "the choice is yours alone, but make it quickly, lest it be made for you". Our hero gathers all his strength, all his might, and speaks "I ...." he sits up from where he was laying  "choose ......." now struggles to stand on his own two feet. A slight wobble and then steadies himself. Before him are the two paths, and behind is the closed road. "FREEDOM". With a gleam in his eye, and his head held high, he throws the hammer away, the bed of nails just another trap to keep him from seeing the truth. He nods a thank you to his trusted, a bow of gratitude to his blood, a waive goodbye the other. He turns a momentary glance at each path, but he has already made his choice. He puts on his jacket and strides forward (never straight), between both paths, forging his own way. As he walks out of sight you read the back of his jacket, "The Director".

The Journey Begins

The journey begins with one foot forward, two steps to the side, ball change, kick. Dancing through life to ease the pain. Now knowing our Hero is the Director of his own life, as he moves in rhythm to the underlying music of the Universe, meditating on past events to ensure no repeat of past failures, realizing there are no failures only experiences from which we create, update, and grow our soul. Traveling alone in this reality, yet one of many in the true reality where the undercurrent of pure energy carries us all though the ultimate journey.

Our Hero moves in a state of free form allowing events around to play out without interfering, watching, waiting for the right moment in time to rejoin this false reality. Without emotion he watches his trusted, his blood, the Other.  Without interest he observes the events around him. Without reaction he absorbs information. Detached our Hero dances on, pirouettes on a speck of stardust, echappe sautes on red dwarfs, jump heel kick across the Universe.

His voice within warns " you cannot stay here". Our Hero turns disturbed by the distraction, a Raven flies by, a reminder, a memory. The stars grow distant, riding a comet he returns to the pain of a false reality but with the experience and the wisdom of the universal traveler. He brushes off the stardust, and looking to the sky follows the path of the raven he sees flying overhead. Still a slight jump in his step, a smile on his face, and a surge of renewed empathy for his fellow kind.