Excerpt for The Experiment With Life Continues by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

What the Sea Taught Me 2 0f 4

Writings by Sha’Ra On WindWalker

(in collaboration with Sha'Tara EarthStar)


Copyright (©) 2018 Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing

Published by: Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing

Chilliwack, B.C. Canada

Cover pictures by: Top, Devin Kho: Bottom, Tosaporn Boonyarangkul

All pictures found on

Space Picture: ESA/Hubble

Next Series: Wisdom of the WindWalkers

I hope you enjoy these writings. Feedback is welcome.



And The Answer Is...

Being Humble


Bringer Of Light

I've Seen The Sign: Political Arithmetic

Does God Care?

Earth Is A Zoo

What About Ego?

Naked Ambition

Father Knows Best

Words At Play

How To Believe

Mentally Challenged

My Golden Boy

To Vote Or Not To Vote

No More Secrets

The Highest Path In The Deepest Of Places

Old Man


Rock Bottom

Sands Of Time

The Path Of Contemplation

Silver Ships In Dreams Of Earth

Spring Dance

The Couch

Thoughts On Wisdom

There Is Nothing New Under The Sun

The Nimby* Syndrome

The Experiment With Life Continues


These books represent a varied collection of remarkable "outside the box" thinking (and subsequently, writing).


If you are one of those trammeled and importuned by strong beliefs that won't let go, this could be your chance to break free.  I'm not asking you to believe what is written therein—I can't say I believe all of it myself—but it makes for an interesting "other than" perspective.  Reading these books can be compared to  painting by numbers.  You have this standard picture outline and between lines are colour numbers.  You match the numbers to the colours and eventually you have a painting.  It's not great art, of course, and everybody knows that but it gives you the impression that you did it yourself.  We all know that is how the System operates.  It gives us a number of colours and our life is laid out and numbered, from cradle to the grave.  There isn't much we can do about it, it seems.  It's the System. 


Ah, but there is something we can do about it.  We can ignore the numbers.  Use random colours and mix them.  If "3" is green, we do pink on one of the "3" sections and arbitrarily use orange on the next, and so on.  Pretty soon the System doesn't know us anymore and guess what?  We discover what real freedom can be.  It begins by breaking the rules; by daring to violate those imposed beliefs.  Here's one for you:  Did man ever land on the moon?  Of course they did, you will say.  You saw it on TV, or you saw the videos and read the reports and documentaries, right?  Ok, fine.  But that is not the point since landing on the moon or not did nothing to change the way people interact with each other.  So the point?  The point is to paint a different colour on the "moon landing" section of your life's canvas.  A "fake moon landing" colour.  Now really go into this idea.  Break the template here, convince yourself it was all faked in some studio, for whatever political reason.  Then proceed to prove to yourself that it was so.  Study this bit of history; look at the clues.  What happens in the end?  In the end you realize it doesn't matter at all whether they landed on the moon or not.  What matters is, you dared question it.


The material in here questions "taken for granted" ideas, sometimes seriously, sometimes with humour.


You know, it's hard to think these days, when everything is handed to us via TV and the Internet.  Everything tells us how to think, and does so in the blink of an eye.  We don't have to wait for the President's state of the union speech, or the preacher's rant on a given Sunday.  We Google! 


Can a mind atrophy?  You bet.  Look into these booklets and think about thinking.

And The Answer Is...


The question was, "Would you, as an individual, take on the pain and suffering of the whole world within your heart?"


The question is longer, but that is the gist of it.  After carefully analyzing its intent, juxtaposing the many teachings I have received from "off world" and weighing my options on this I realized the only thing that stood between me and giving an answer was fear.  A deep fear I had no word for.  A dark feeling that lurked inside my mind; that hadn't been stirred for a very long time.


And so I remembered the mantra against fear as expounded by Frank Herbert through his Bene Gesserit teaching.


"I will not fear.  Fear is the mind killer.  It is the little death that brings complete obliteration.  I will face my fear.  I will let it pass over me and through me and when it has passed I will turn and look with the inner eye and there will be nothing there.  Only I will be standing there."  [from Dune - by Frank Herbert]


Fear has many faces.  Mine chose to manifest in false humility - "I am not worthy" or "Who do I take myself for to even consider such a thing?"


But that didn't wash because I didn't invent the idea, I was asked a simple question.  Yet the question was as deep as the depths of space.  It encompassed, in its simplicity, everything of value I have ever been taught, ever discovered for myself, ever did and ever hoped for.  The question was designed to fit me like a perfectly tailored suit. 


Today, my answer is yes.  Never mind whether I can or not, I am willing. 


A while ago I said that real change came from encountering and interacting with events bigger than I.  Each one of those made me into a different person, sometime a different being.  My spirit and my mind thus evolved, step by step.  It's a slow process, as we count in time, but it is real!  It works.


Robert Frost wrote: "Two roads diverged in the woods.  I took the one less traveled by, and that made all the difference."  (Robert Frost... from memory.  I cannot remember the title of the poem, nor am I sure I have the words down correctly, but the message is clear.  That was one of those teachings I could never forget.)


This path I have said "yes" to is not exclusive.  I believe it is opened to all and sundry, by choice.  We are not "called" to this, nor are we "chosen" -- we are self-chosen.  When we awaken spiritually (and I suppose, mentally) we instantly become aware of the cosmos.  We are no longer "Earthians" (or Pleiadians, or Altarians). 


Awakened, we are cosmic beings, but not before.  Before anyone can make this claim upon the cosmos as home, one has to detach from all that operates at the local level.  What now appears as a contradiction is that the bona fide "Cosmosian" turns towards its host world with total compassion.  The love that could not be given to Earthians and their world while one remained in step with their dance, is now possible.  Oh, not only possible but unavoidable and inevitable.   


The event I have just encountered and chose to walk into knowing the door behind me would close and could never be re-opened is certainly one of those much bigger than I.  But I suppose it was a foregone conclusion I would go in considering all the challenges I have encountered on my own road to Mordor.  I do not know what awaits me now, but I take a bit of comfort remembering Scrooge's own awakening on Christmas morning.  Perhaps that same Christmas morning can be mine too... somewhere.  It can be yours also.


Meanwhile I can say this: I have never experienced the peace of mind I am in at this moment.  I don't care what comes next... this is all the good I can handle.

Being Humble

Love, so goes the saying,

is never having to say

"I'm sorry!"

But how can one love so much?

There may be a way to love

simply... accept

that which is, for what it is:

no stress or strain of judgment

for all is ultimately subjective.

Observe - without condemning.

Observe - learn discernment

Observe - learn to build

Observe - no need to destroy

for that which no longer serves

will fall like grasses in hedgerows

when October passes by.

Praise honestly, openly

only that which is praiseworthy.

No need to elevate one

by pushing down another

for pride can make good use

of false humility,

but humility is greater by far

than the mightiest pride.


Two men pound

“the living shit out of each other”

as a friend put it:

most call this “sport”

and watch with great excitement

as the blood flows

and one falls down

or these sub-human gladiators

just tire themselves out...

and yet if children

get in a fight doing the same thing,

the parents pretend to be horrified,

that children would engage

in such barbaric acts towards one another.

Well, says I,

how can it be OK for adults

to beat each other to a pulp,

but not for kids

who just imitate adults?

Any sane society would call boxing

madness bordering on murder:

do we live in a sane world?

If we can main or kill one-another for "sport"

can there be any hope

that life on earth will improve?

Even when the choice exist

to not inflict violence on another,

humans do so anyway,


deriving great pleasure

or great monetary profit

from such activity.

I leave you to write your own conclusion.

Bringer Of Light – a tribute to Lucifer


Who brings light

into perpetual darkness

only to be demonized?


Who shines light

walking by under grey clouds

to dazzle fading eyes?


Who bears light

to shatter grief-stained walls

though her skin be black?


Who is light

passing by in the deepest night

as a sun at high noon?


"Who would bring light must endure burning" (Victor Frankl)

I've Seen The Sign: Political Arithmetic

I've seen the sign. It's in the air. I can feel it in my bones... an election is coming on!

Yes, things that should be forgotten and allowed to rest in the tomb of the Common Concept that Does Not Work keep resurfacing, like vampires.

So I incline my mind to the concept of politics and the voting process. It's pretty murky at first so far is this madness removed from my reality. But eventually it begins to clear. And I understand.

It's a simple process of arithmetic. In arithmetic we have ten numbers, but only one of them is worth nothing - ever. However, put it in relation to any of the others and while gaining no

intrinsic value, it causes a great deal of change to the others.

Take the number "6". It's worth six. No more and no less. But what happens if you put a worthless "0" after it? It appears to gain ten times its normal worth. From "6" you get "60" -- and what did you add? Nothing.

Take the same number and put "0" in front of it. Now it's worth 1/10th its original worth.

And that's the problem, simply put. Politicians are the "0" factor. And since they insist on always being placed in front of everyone else, it's quite easy to see why we're always falling short of what we know we should be able to accomplish.

So I figure, if I go through life as if these worthless entities did not exist, I can walk around without having to follow these zeros. Common sense.

Does God Care?

They say the God of the Bible

loves the people he created;

so much so that when they sin

or forget to bring him sacrifices,

he judges them, condemns them,

sends them straight to hell

to burn in torment for eternity.

It seems logical, does it not,

since he created them in his image

and can't be but what he made them,

that he should be the one

to take first place in the fires of hell?

Some would say such a God can hear

when you say bad things about him.

I don't think he hears anything at all;

but if he does,

he's terrified to answer:

I think he's been deprived of his old power

by an elite Cosmic 'court'.

When we accept this simple fact,

we’ll no longer clutter our minds

with this sort of ranting and raving.

We shall be free within our own thoughts...

finally – Yes!

And Sunday morning shall find me enjoying

life on a nude beach. Blessed be!

Earth Is A Zoo

It's been said:

Earth is a zoo.


and the intelligent life forms

(humans that is)

who inhabit it;

who creep and crawl over it;

who "own" it;

and are destroying it

are themselves

but wild animals

caged by belief systems

that never work.

Hating each other;

eating each other;

destroying each other;

and all the while

praying to the

Great Keeper

up in the sky,

safe in his heaven

silent as the grave...

until his pets

unleash the great worship:

a crusade;

an inquisition;

a war

against the Keeper's "enemies."

Then He speaks

with guns,

with spectacles of bloodshed

accompanied by marches;

justified by great speeches

from his mouthpieces -

Preachers, Priests, Popes

and whomever else

benefits from His

special attention.

That's right:

Earth is a zoo.

What About Ego?

Walking down a path by the river,

I started to think about ego:

do I really need my ego?

(I must have asked out loud)

just then an old man passed by,

I thought I heard him say:

“Ego is part of us all,

part of the Earth personality.

It is what experiences

the physical world around us;

it should not rule one's life:

that is not it's purpose.

That is how I see my ego,

(he continued on)

but hey, what do I know?

I'm just an eccentric old man.

So, we're told to gag our ego

but why stop there?

Let's stop all personal motion;

cancel intellectual activity.

Why not just hand over

all personal accountability

to some external authority?

There are experts in that field:

God, Government, Banker, Boss -

There are many to choose from.

Or we can take full responsibility

for our place in the scheme of things.

We can find the positive side of life

and decide to move with that flow.

Be our own friend,

our own master,

our own creator.

How foolish to think

one can live without ego:

all of life is on an ego trip -

if it weren't, it wouldn't be.”

Naked Ambition

Steph was a “small town girl” and except for her five foot one stature, nothing else about her was small. She had an ego that would dwarf the Titanic. Of course, she was on the debating team. Of course she played the lead role in “Three on a Swing,” a locally written play that won several awards. Of course she was Valedictorian. Couple all that with a luscious figure, raven hair and the darkest brown eyes and you have dynamite. What fool wouldn’t fall for her? I had at least one infatuation in every grade since the sixth, but in the twelfth, it was for Steph. There was nothing I could do about it. I hung around, you know, and we got into talks, as such talks go. Here’s a sample.

Steph: “What’s wrong with the world isn’t the threat of nuclear war or pesticides, it’s pure lack of ambition. Take you, for example. You go on about ending the Vietnam war, or boycotting DuPont or the French nuking the South Pacific, but what does it amount to? I haven’t got time for all that grass-roots, moping stuff. Someday, I may be the first woman Prime Minister of Canada, how about that?”

“Politicians stink. They’re lap dogs of the rich and only serve themselves.” I managed to reply.

“I may be president of Bata shoes!” she retorts.

“Ha! Don’t talk to me about Bata shoes. Exploiters of Third World labour...”

“This is the age of Woman! I may become the first female Pope, how about that?”

“Religion’s a dead issue, and who would believe someone leading an outfit as compromised with dirty land deals as Catholicism? You know Steph, you’re nothing but naked ambition. I want to change the world and you want to ride it.”

And so it went. I caused a lot of fuss and Steph became more popular. Voted snow queen, you can bet I wasn’t the one who took her to the prom. George did. Captain of the football team, of course. How crass. How bourgeois. How decadent. How predictable. How lucky George... So, I took Elsie to the prom. Home Ec. Elsie. Quiet Elsie. Elsie, who hated special news bulletins when they interfered with her favourite sitcoms. Elsie, just educated enough to recognize a hydrogen bomb if one went off in her face. We had a good time and I watched Steph make her moves. We danced a couple of times and I wondered who would spend the rest of the night with her.

Eight years, two kids and one very rocky marriage later, Elsie and I were in town and ran into Alvin and Jenny after one of my political/environmental meetings. We walked the malls and specialty shops until Elsie complained.

“I am thirsty and hungry. The very next place that serves drinks, food or preferably both, we’re going in...” And so we did. Not the highest class place, but OK. I looked at the poster at the door. “Esmeralda entertains tonight. Two shows.” Who the hell’s Esmeralda? I asked to no one. Jenny replied, “Who cares? I’m hungry too.”

“You realize this is a strip joint?” pipes up daring Alvin.

Jenny gives him an elbow in the ribs, “So what, guy? This is the age of Woman... and we’re going in. Coming?”

I didn’t want to seem too eager, but I thought Esmeralda would be a change from the political stress and endless family squabbles. We sat near the stage and sipped our drinks. Elsie enjoyed hers. I counted three, then gave up. Who cares!

Some whistling and cheering announced the appearance of the queen of the stripper circuit: Esmeralda. I looked as she did her well-rehearsed number and teased the men at the edge of the stage. Suddenly, after all had come off on schedule, I did a double-take: it was Steph, no doubt about it. I turned to Elsie in time to hear her exclaim rather shakily:

“Hey, Shteph... you’re schtill notin’ but naked ambition! Here’s to ya!” and down went another cocktail.

Elsie and I had this unwritten rule: we disagreed on everything, however serious or trivial, but this time I almost agreed with her, except I made a mental correction: not ‘naked’ ambition, but ‘nude’ ambition. I thought it more fitting, more poetic. After all, my heart, even after eight years, was still drumming that same tune.

Now that I’m in the limelight and with money, I’m thinking, “Hey, Frank, maybe Steph’s now ready to come home.” So, I’m going back to Cassanova’s Place Saturday to see Esmeralda do her number, hopefully for the last time. Elsie’s given me the kiss-off and she’s out with ol’ George tonight, so, all’s well that may end well. Isn’t life interesting!

Father Knows Best

My Father always used to say:

"I'm proud of you, my boy

that you have chosen to follow

the path I mapped out for you!"

Even though I had yet to decide

which way I had to go,

my father already had determined

my life's purpose:

to be like him, of course!

Pressured into such conformity

I found myself on an embankment

he assured me was strong:

it had supported his own ambitions

and would do the same for me!

That doesn't matter any more,

for in fear of letting him down

I crashed through the flimsy supports,

my life crumbling into instant ruin.

"You have failed me, boy,"

came the voice of disapproval,

"but worse, you have decreased

the family's social standing!"

I rose from this false awareness of defeat

to find my own path,

to live my own dreams,

no longer listening to the old adage:

father knows best!

Now that I have found my own identity,

making my mark while still learning,

growing and succeeding in my life,

my father again says proudly:

"That's my boy!"

Words At Play

Friends laugh!

I love this exchange

of words of heart

sometimes even accompanied

of thought.

We play with words,

a favourite game.

I have a million words,

all magnetized;

ready to stick

on your fridge door!

A million words: hah!

seems like a fortune

does it not?

but like money in a bank,

they're but letters...

letters in the sand.

How To Believe

What does it mean to “believe in” something?

It means to become a part of

whatever that “something” is.

Wise it is to believe that all things exist -

For whatever is thought and spoken,

whatever is written, or played out -

that is reality immortalized.

Wise it is to know the difference between

believing all things


believing in something!

Many are those who do not understand;

many who think because they believe “in”

their faith becomes universally applicable -

Sadly for them,

thankfully for the rest (of us!)

that is not so.

As long as one allows for existence of everything,

Without believing in any particular thing

one remains free - one remains at peace.

But when one believes in one particular thing

conflict must inevitably arise

between what is generally believed (allowed)

And what is believed in (faith).

Wise it is to know and understand this:

to believe in any one thing is to exclude any other,

to dis-allow its freedom to exist.

Believe in your gods and demons -

that is your sacred choice

- but know that it is my sacred choice

to reserve my mind's space for other things as well;

As I do not condemn you for your choices,

do not condemn me for choosing my own path in life.

Mentally Challenged

I was considered unworthy

to experience a "normal" life;

with my speech impediment I did not fit in at all,


TSK, TSK, TSK...what do we do

with the retard?)

among the robotic standards

of their pastel coloured world.

When someone is a slow learner,

has a speech impediment,

or looks unnormal or abnormal,

the regular ones quickly label them

retards and idiots:

they remember the warning pinned to their cribs:

"When encountering another not like you:


But now: look!

they've discovered political correctness

(from the point of view of normal, that is)

and have declared terms like retard and idiot

socially repulsive or at least, unacceptable.

How interesting: they were their labels, not mine!

Under the new charter of rights and whatever

my PROPER description is "Mentally Challenged!"

I just feel So Privileged, So Special!

I am being challenged by my incredible mental faculties!

That's sort of being like Einstein, I think.

(you know, the guy who wrote about an E

adding up to MC and a little 2?)

It feels just great to be recognized for what I am:



How would You like to work with idiots and retards

if YOU were a proud PHD?

Wouldn't you rather work with geniuse-suz like me?

Please, Mr. Shrink...

may I have another look at those ink-blots?

I need to amuse my Inner Child some more.

My Golden Boy


It had all happened so fast.  Maybe because everything spoke of perfection, a dovetailing of events that happen only in fairy tales.  It was my fairy tale.  That perfect Summer.


I probably better go back a bit and explain.  Our family, that is my mom, my dad and me, well, we were what is called dysfunctional.  My dad is an alcoholic and an abuser.  Even as I write this, and admit it to myself I cringe inside.  I can still see him come into my room those nights when mom worked the night shift at the hospital.  I can still smell his breath and feel his hands on me as he tugged at my nightgown while I tried to hold on to it, curling up and crying, begging him to leave me alone.  But every time I had to let him or get beaten.  If I got beaten I lied to mom about the bruises.  I was so sure all of this was my fault and if she found out she'd hate me or beat me up and maybe send me away to a foster home or something.


But then he beat her too and she fought back.  She's a nurse and you could say she's pretty tough.  She kicked him out of our lives finally, divorced him with an injunction against him not to contact us.  He tried it once.  He went to jail.  I don't know where he is now and hope I never find out.  I'm still afraid of him; afraid he'll show up one day, even though I'm now living on my own.


After the divorce things got better for mom and I.  I told her then what dad had done to me and we became, well, more like two women who share their pain in understanding rather than mother and daughter.  I was only fifteen then but my life had made me mature in some ways, though in others I trailed behind.  In school I did well and I had a dream to become a doctor. 


Mom had saved up some money and some vacation time and after I turned sixteen she decided to spend a whole month in a cabin at a popular lake near the mountains.  Kind of a birthday gift for you, she said.  We took only what we could pack and took the bus to Chanesville, then a smaller tour bus to the resort on lake Chitsaw.  Our cabin was back in the trees, a bit old and moldy smelling at first, but it was far enough we didn't have to hear the jetskis and power boats that continually tore up the waterfront.


The beach was perfect.  Golden sand under a golden sun.  I tan easily and within a couple of days I felt pretty good walking around in one of my two bikinis.  I had a blue and a pink one and sometimes I mixed the colours.  Within a week I knew almost everybody and had a couple of girl friends from my school.


I saw him during the second week and I fell in love.  No, not just infatuated, but deeply and madly in love.  It was as if he had materialized from inside my dreams.  Tall, handsome, beautiful of face with shoulder-length blond hair.  I wasn't the only one who noticed him, of course, and soon he was the talk of our circle.  We dared each other to go over and talk to him.  Sometimes he walked alone along the shore and it seemed to me that the sand became even more golden after he touched it. 


I decided I'd risk it and waited until he took one of his walks by himself and walked to the water in an intersecting path.  When he was within a couple of yards from me I bent over pretending to be inspecting something in the sand.  He came over and asked what I was looking at.  I lied and said I thought I'd seen a green bug burrowing in.  He laughed.  Introduced himself: Dean.  I did likewise: Shauna.  We walked together.  I, lost in a lucid dream.  He, probably looking me over as men do.  It often made me uncomfortable but with him, well, I would have danced naked for him if he'd asked me!


D'you have someone?  No I said.  Neither do I.  There's a party at our cabin tomorrow evening.  I'll come by your place and escort you, if you want to come.  Sure I said.  It's number forty-three, up there in the trees.  Yeah, I know, he said.  I've watched you before and I followed you yesterday. 


Well, with that my feelings went off the chart.  The rest is just too predictable, right out of a bad novel.  He came to our cabin and I introduced him to mom.  She didn't take to him the way I'd expected.  She took me into her room and closed the door.  You watch yourself, Shauna, she said.  This boy makes me uncomfortable.  Maybe it's just me, being your mom and seeing you go out on a date like that.  Promise you'll be home by midnight and that you won't walk back alone?


Yes mom, yes.  Promises are easy to make when your mind, your heart, your whole being is somewhere else.  Walking with Dean was like floating in the air.  Everything was wonderful, beautiful.  The stars were brighter than usual.  The air was cleaner, sweeter.  The party was great.  When most of the people had wandered off, the kids to "midnight swims" and the adults back to their own places, I found myself practically alone with Dean.  Come upstairs, I'll show you my room, he said.  I felt a twinge of something - a warning?  Mom's words tried to make me stop.  But I couldn't.  He was my golden lover, my golden boy. 


Yeah, we made love.  Wildly, passionately.  He had experience.  He drove me crazy.  I lost myself in him and finally fell asleep in his arms.  He woke me up just before midnight, reminding me of my promise to my mother to be home by then.  We got dressed and he walked me home.  I was still in that mood you get when you walk out of a movie theatre when the romance has triumphed.  Dizzy with love.


I spent most of the rest of that vacation with Dean.  Inseparable, we were.  Afterwards, we talked every night on the phone.  It was long distance but mostly he made the calls so it didn't cost me much.  Then I missed my period.  I knew I was pregnant.  I couldn't tell mom and didn't know what to do.  So stupid.  I just forgot the damned pills.  Just figured it couldn't happen until Dean and I were married, or living together, you know?  I told Dean.  Dead silence on the other end of the phone.  Dean?  Yeah, well, you going to get an abortion, aren't you?  They're not legal here and I can't tell mom.  What do we do?  I asked stupidly.  I don't think it's a question of what we do, babe.  It's not really my problem, is it.  You have to get an abortion.


I must have passed out.  When I came to, the phone was talking to me.  I hung up and tried to wake up from a nightmare.  But it was like before with dad.  It was no nightmare.  Real.  This was real.  Dean dumped me.  Then mom noticed and after much crying, I told her.  She was real mad at first, said I should have told her and she could have made the arrangement.  Stupid, you're so stupid.  Now it's too late.  What are your plans?  She asked.  My plans?  I don't have any plans!  Dean and I were going to move in together eventually, get married.  Now I'm alone again, just like when you worked the night shift and dad molested me.  What can I do mom? 


You have to give my mom credit.  She didn't stay mad, or in blame, or denial.  She asked me, what has life taught you so far when you have a problem?  And I told her, I have to find my own solution to it.  It's my problem and I must deal with it.  And I want my baby I said suddenly with a new kind of passion I'd never had before. 


I continued in school until it got too embarrassing.  Took correspondence courses put together for girls in my situation.  Mom supported me.  She attended when I had my baby.  At first, well, he was just a typical shriveled up little thing with a loud mouth.  But as he grew I saw the spitting image of Dean in him.  He is my golden boy and I love him.  He's the legacy of my lost pleasure and happiness as a stupid young girl and he's my joy now, my life. 


I'm nineteen now, soon I'll be twenty and Shane is three.  I moved away from home last year, just to be alone with my son.  It feels right to do this by myself and for him to know who his real mother is.  Mom was spending too much time with him thinking I needed time to myself.  I don't need that much.  I like my work - I work in a hair dressing shop where they train you.  I like working with people and pleasing them with the right words, the right touch and of course, the right hairstyle.  We live in a basement bachelor suite in a run-down old quadplex but it's a good place.  The owners live upstairs; an old Jewish couple who adore Shane.  They baby-sit for me, most of the time for nothing.  What can I say more?  My life and my world are good.


The other day as I was getting on the bus I noticed a stretch limo stopping on the other side of the street by a Starbucks.  I smiled - I always do at those ostentatious ugly vehicles that have only one message for the rest of us: Hey look at me, I'm rich.  Dumb.  Then I saw a man step out as the chauffeur opened the door.  Tall, handsome, blond.  It was Dean.  I know it was.  My heart was pounding in my chest and I had to grab the back of the seat to keep my balance.  I looked again but he was gone and the bus pulled out.  It's then I realized how good my life really is.  It's mine.  Dean could have been a part of the wonder we created in our foolishness.  But he chose not to and left the entire fortune in my hands and my heart.


When Shane is old enough I'll let him go and give him his life too.  We make our own way in life; we don't depend on others or belong to others.  Then life is truly good.

To Vote Or Not To Vote

Comes election time and people say:

You've got to vote!

It's your duty to vote.

If you don't vote, don't complain

if they don't do what you would like.

This gave me food for thought.

First, 'tis obvious people vote

to have something to complain about.

Secondly, if I were to vote

it's just as obvious to me

there's only one person on this world

who'll always do what I want

and that would be 'me'

so put my name on the ballot

and I'll vote

for my majority of One.

No More Secrets

It's no secret

secrets are the parents of gossip:

a secret that cannot be told

chokes the mind

and puts a fire on the tongue

until someone is found

to impart the secret to:

but don't tell anyone!


The fastest way to spread a rumor

is to call it a secret!

So perhaps we should do away

with the concept of secrets:

hold everything in the open,

everything public knowledge.

No more secrets!

(And an amazing side effect:

No more gossip and of course

No more politicians!)

The Highest Path In The Deepest Of Places


Sometimes a kind of madness strikes an individual and that individual's inner world changes which consequently means that person's perception of the outer world also changes.  From that moment on, it's goodbye to what passes for normalcy in society.  You will no longer fit, however you try. 


At that point, the hardest part is realizing that the majority viewpoint isn't about to change to accommodate you just because you no longer can see things as it does.  And, no matter how accepting your particular society happens to be, you will be an outcast, if unspoken.  The world you knew and took for granted, which, despite its many faults you relied on day after day for your life's sustenance, will now be your enemy.  


In the blink of an eye you realized this, and asked, "Now what?"


It occurred to me many years ago that the better part of valor was not to try and refit myself into a society that no longer made any sense just for some dubious acceptance, recognition or success, but to make sense of what I had become and what that would eventually change me into.  It came to me that mutations do not happen only in the physical realm but in the mental also—and perhaps more so in that realm!  Madness (break from normalcy) is not just chemicals in imbalance.  I accepted that my mind had mutated. 


For those so inclined to believe (and the head shake or even the scorn of those who do not, or cannot) the "change" occurred as a result of an abduction.  Until now I've held back using that term because I wanted to be certain that is indeed what happened… in the evening of April 19, 1979.  I've never given much credence to claims of alien abduction—a bit far fetched it seemed.  But there is that very practical saying that says, believe all things, believe in nothing.  "Abduction" just happens to be a more accurate way of describing a bizarre happening.  You have a life changing experience, you think about it for 30 years and after researching it through every avenue known, you define your experience using logic developed during those years. 


I've never forgotten that date (who could forget?) though I know that some important aspects of what took place remain blocked from my memory of it.  "Something" happened to me of course, and those who knew me then certainly were quite aware of it.  That something could have been disastrous: the results were upsetting and confusing.  When I "returned" from the experience, for some time nothing made sense.  But I knew that it would be a good thing.  I now held the key that would gradually allow me to unlock the meaning of the experience. 


I was given a personal interpretation of a not so secret "code" I had been reading about and contemplating most of my life.  That "code" would define me, not as a venial thing, not as a convenience or hindrance, not as prey or predator, not as a function of the System, but as someone with a purpose.  That "code" made me into a real person and it would answer the question: "Who am I?" as it empowered me to become myself rather than just a wooden puppet; another imitator; another believer; another clone; another bitcher, whiner and complainer; another producer and consumer butting heads against other members of a growing herd of sheeple fighting over a narrowing trough and dwindling victuals.


The essence of what constitutes "the world" has not changed in the least, though its future is more tenuous than it was.  The sheeple have learned nothing at all in the past thirty years.  The global crisis of resource overuse and overpopulation grows apace and were the results not so terribly sad for the expanding marginalized fringe-dwelling members of the Earthian population, the pseudo-efforts for solutions bandied by the mega-rich would be funnier than any Bugs Bunny – Road Runner caper.  What do they offer?  Acme Band-Aids, Acme Cure-All Pills, Acme Cancer Clinics, Acme Recycling, Acme Political Correctness, Acme Religion, Acme Safety Gear, Acme Security, Acme Justice, Acme Oil, Acme Electric, Acme Education, Acme Government.  All served on the global Monopoly Board with stacks of phony money based on absolutely nothing but the faith of screaming  mee-mies.


But something has changed: me.  When I lost consciousness and was taken by Morpheus' crew and offered the blue and red pills, I took the red one and experienced the wildest ride imaginable down at least some parts of the Rabbit Hole.  I've been down the Rabbit Hole many times since.  I've even begun excavating one of my own.  And I've found some real treasure in the deepest of those places.  Some I've put back, some I've kept. 


Of those I've kept, self-empowerment and the ability to see through the endless masks of the Matrix I've made a permanent part of what and who I am. 


Thoreau wrote: "Most men lead lives of quiet desperation."  Well, today, people lead loudly desperate lives chasing after technical progress and wading through a glut of computer-generated pseudo-information.  I would invite them to stop.  Just stop.  I would not ask them to think: they are not capable of it yet.  But if they did stop, it would give the System the coronary it needs to die before it destroys the earth. 


Prediction: that won't happen.  The earth, or at least any semblance to what has been, will die.  That is a certainty.  And I cringe to talk about what will survive.  As the Bible mentions in certain places, there will be those who will pray and cry for death, but will not find even the dubious peace of death.

Old Man

There's an old man I know in town -

a millionaire three times over, so he claims,

I met him in a coffee shop, queuing up

we struck a conversation over economics.

He confessed to me that it took him a long time

to realise the extent of the damage done

by money, by greedy individuals and corporations

all over this world.

And, said he, the problem is not resolving

and won't; not until all profits have been squeezed

from all available resources and goods.

I'm a bit like the prodigal son, he admits

but I'm afraid it is too late to do much of anything.

I wish, when I was young

I'd looked into the eyes of the weak,

the poor, the dis-enfranchised of this world

instead of driving around like old man Potter

counting my money and seeing all things

only as a means to more profit.

Had I seen the gross injustices greed causes

perhaps then I could have made a difference.

But now I know tomorrow will come

and I will know the sorrow of what I

and so many others, have sown on the way.

He admitted he is happier divested of his holdings

and with most of his money gone - by choice.

I cannot change humanity, he said to me sadly

but I can change my mind, I can change how I think;

I can be compassionate now, without the money

and that's quite a revelation, don't you think?

His laughter is almost a whisper

as he adds,

for me, that's got to be enough now.


I read this somewhere:

“To live within unconditional love

I must join the greater whole,

the oneness of all things.

I must learn to open my third eye

to understand how to speak to anyone

without lies, sarcasm,

deception or exaggerations

so frequently used to avoid the truth.

When people begin to see themselves

as equal with all things,

they will experience a shift in awareness

to a more enlightened state of being,

connecting every heart-beat

to the rhythm of life, to Mother Earth.”

But I wonder,

does this kind of thinking work

or is it just more ‘new-agey’ baloney

that tickles the ears

but when put to the test

falls short of the mark?

What I think of all of that

can be said very simply:

those who write stuff

expect “me” to prove their words

and as for them,

they’re in the marketplace

selling their wares,

same as, same as – for if it did not sell

they’d be writing something else.

Rock Bottom

That lonely figure on a deserted shore,

walking without purpose, without goal -

is me: life lost in by-gone good-times days;

when I read the daily news with satisfaction;

when money was taken for granted,

- made or lost, I'd always come up winning -

and those close to me showed their love

by spending it in the great shopping malls,

some of which, I'm told, I owned.

But a tornado called reality struck

and it's all gone, as if it never was -

I can barely understand what happened.

My life seems so barren and without purpose.

I notice a kind of mindless peacefulness

coming from the waves drifting to their death

upon the cold, wet sands... Their sad song

leaves my soul longing to recover

the serenity and happiness I once knew

far, far from this alien shore.

Can one as wrapped up in stuff as I

really hope to find joy, or happiness?

Where should I go to find such?

I asked myself as I looked over the gray sea

and the waves continued to hiss and mutter

their voice singing a million year old song,

a “best seller” obviously, to repeat so long!

And I understood that all along

I'd been standing, blind and deaf

in the middle of paradise.

Sands Of Time

For so long! so long

sands drifted over the earth's surface;

so many years! so many

have sifted by the unwary

burning as dry wood in summer

or soaked in human blood

while ignorant, helpless, silent,

we have watched our self-appointed leaders

the power wielders of our time

ruin our dried-out, empty lives

crushing the shells under their heels.

The sands are moving slower now:

most valleys are full;

rivers run dry in parched deserts:

sands are meeting sands,

time poised to stand still;

time's hourglass is cracked, its sands

drift out aimlessly!

The hour of chaos and confusion

has come upon us suddenly

and though the chains fall from our wrists

we fear the death of our gods

who've kept us in bondage

these endless years

while we hewed their wood

watered and harvested their crops

and fed from the poison of their lies.

It has been said

that man must be set free

to renew his earth:

do you know a better way?

The Path Of Contemplation


Wisdom:  "One is fortress only when one.  Two is breached."


In the movie "The Matrix" the unaware and reluctant "Avatar" Neo is faced with a choice should he wish to enter the path of truth: to take the blue pill or the red one.  The red one tears him out of his semi-comfortable illusion of reality to be confronted by the truth regarding the nature of the Matrix.  The blue pill returns him to his comfort zone where he comes to realize that he really does not want answers to his annoying questions. 


He takes the red pill.  Everything changes.  He enters a world where all but a few misfits are his enemies, or better put, his enemy.  All but the half-dozen survivors on Morpheus' ship (and others in some city they dub Zion) are elements of the Matrix, feeding it; protecting it; defending it.  Its agents, masquerading as human beings, filled with fear and hate, are capable of only one thing: to destroy whatever won't let itself be used as fodder for the Matrix. 


Well, surely that is just science fiction?  This bears no resemblance to Earthian life on this planet, how could it?  Utterly ridiculous.  How could our religious, legislative and financial systems be other than benevolent institutions installed by God - or whomever you wish to substitute for that sobriquet - to look after life on earth, particularly the life that belongs to those who support these institutions?  Come on, we're in good hands.  As the sign on a church proclaimed yesterday:  "I want to hold the hand of Him who holds the world."  Why belabor the obvious you silly pedagogues?  Aren't you already holding that hand? 


What happens when you take the red pill?  All of that wonderful illusion shatters.  Behind the smoke and mirrors stands a very vulnerable and miserable little wizard whose only power lies in lies!  What happens when you confront the soldiers, the fire, the noise, all that bluster?  When a George Bush no longer holds the scepter to the most powerful empire-kingdom on the planet, but is an ordinary Earthian with all the advanced debilitating symptoms that characterize the aging programmed performer whose stand-up comedy routines are followed by a cheap and scratchy old laugh track? 


The first thing that happens is, you want to laugh, out of sheer relief.  That is, until you realize that unmasking the wizard changes nothing in the fabric of the Matrix.  It has a life of its own and the people who depend on it are all out there fervently following, imitating and defending.  The wizard is really no longer necessary.  You can take "God" out of the Earthian equation anytime: so many facets of it have penetrated into the various institutions, it cannot be destroyed at the source: it no longer needs one.  Now you are in a Quixotic world where each windmill flays its arms to the streaming of the Matrix.  Each windmill is God.  And every grain of cereal bagged and carried to the mill for crushing into meal and flour will, in an instant, jump from the bag to defend the mill.  Once you've seen this, you don't feel like laughing anymore. 


I have seen it and I don't feel like laughing at all.  I feel an overwhelming desire to run and hide.  To somehow pretend I never took the red pill.  I want to go to sleep, encounter no dreams, and wake up in a normal world where everything is exactly as it seems.  But..."If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me, even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.   [...]

And let's not omit the dreadful corollary to this awareness: "Do I not hate those who hate you, O LORD, and abhor those who rise up against you?  I have nothing but hatred for them; I count them my enemies." " [excerpts from Psalms 139 - The Bible] 


Substitute "Matrix" for "LORD" and what do you see?


So it is within the Matrix.  Wonder not religious people cannot live in peace, cannot fulfill the simple commands of their Avatars; cannot, ever, understand the concept of universal compassion.  For the Matrix drives them to protect, defend, and attack.  All that is not of their belief; all that would oppose their particular windmill, is of the Enemy.  Everybody is a recruit for Homeland Security, Inc.


Of necessity, as long as earth is within the tentacles of the Matrix, it remains a war zone.  The only way out of this dilemma is by taking the red pill.  But the problem with that is, this is not just another drug of convenient denial, it is the universal antidote for all the drugs the Matrix put in the blue pill.  The sudden clarity caused by taking the red pill quickly turns the stark and harsh reality that springs to the mind's eye to excruciating sorrow. 


Contemplation is the red pill that opens the mind's eye.  It creates an awareness of the One.  It does not empower.  It does not do miracles.  It opens a channel for the truth that cannot be closed.  A path that only the self-empowered can walk, and that, only, and ever, alone.


Then why, you will ask, do you insist on sharing these thoughts with us?


And I say to you, because I have seen the heart of compassion and whatever good thing I find, I will share with as many as will let me. 


Because you are entitled to encounter other points of view than those that come through your normal Matrix-programmed channels. 


Because with these shadow-thoughts you remain free to make your own choice when you are confronted with Morpheus and his damned pills of truth or consequences.


Because if I do not share these thoughts then your power to choose shrinks considerably, for what  reality do your choices contain within the thought-web of the Matrix?


Because you can shut me off any time you desire and no one will chase you to re-open this link. 


Until you also partake of the communion of the red pill.  Then everything will change.  Then you will have our own thoughts and I will disappear.  You will be alone, standing among a multitude that cannot see you.  And they will be to you as a sword in your heart and yet you will love them.  From the deepest parts of your being, because you understand them better than they understand themselves.

Silver Ships In Dreams Of Earth

Looking outside my window

just before sun rise,

I see a silver ship approaching,

hovering just above my window.

Suddenly I am on the ship,

escorted to a room

where several humanoid creatures

communicate questions:

I gather they want to know

if the people of earth are worth saving;

or if they should just let them

destroy their world and themselves.

I pause for a moment and think,

what if people saw “real” space ships

hovering above their cities in the morning?

Would they panic?

Would they think they were being attacked?

Yes, likely that is what they'd think

for that is how they are taught to believe.

I spoke:

Well I think the people of earth

would never trust any alien life;

would never understand why

anyone from another planet, world or galaxy

would want to help them:

most of them believe their planet is

“just fine” - thank you very much!

They then asked me

if I wanted to see their world -

just to give me an idea of what

“a world just fine” really looks like;

how people from “a just fine world”

interact with one-another -

for mutual benefit.

- Should I take them up on their offer?

- Would I want to come back if I did?

Spring Dance

I walk down a city street,

a gust of warm wind blows by:

a piece of paper, like a child

begins to dance, to play.

I feel the urge to join

in this celebration of life:

in my mind, gracefully,

I frolic with the wind,

the piece of paper;

In this spring dance

there is a force

mostly overlooked;

gentle, loving, caressing;

calling us all

to slow down our headlong rush

to nowhere,

Life proposes a choice:

we can ‘do’ - we can ‘be’

we cannot “do be do be do!”

The future waits around the corner:

It’s time to watch

the dance of life .

It’s time to live life,

not rush it by...

The Couch

Someone got lonely,

always siting alone,

so He or She invented the couch;

to provide Her and Him with

a more comfortable place

to spend an intimate moment

but they got bored doing that

and invented the boob tube:

complete with bombarding ads

filled with endless lies,

so the next step was inevitable:

the remote control,

and that, as all can see

provided irrefutable proof

for the theory of evolution--

(or de-volution)

for late twentieth century

saw the birth of a new species:

the utterly useless,

the sexless,

the mindless,

the...Couch Potato!

Thoughts On Wisdom


Wisdom must incorporate common sense or it is hardly wisdom.


Wisdom not demonstrable is but wishful thinking.


Wisdom is never a collective enterprise. The wise are truly loners by nature.


There are many different kinds of wisdom.


[Past wisdom] There is the wisdom of the ancients, wisdom in collective memory; in written lore. Do not count on such to be of much help to you for its energy has dissipated and cannot be put back. Would you go to a museum to find a working solution to a current technological problem?


[Current wisdom] There is wisdom that is stored within your heart-mind, experiential. That is the wisdom you should bring forth and use on a daily basis.


[Future wisdom] There is a wisdom of things that can be (but may never be). Call it 'a wisdom of possibilities' if you will. Do not rely on this type, for the slightest change in the projected pattern, the slightest touch from an interference in thought, will cause it to vanish, as a breeze over a small pool causes reflections to become dancing marionettes -- pretty patterns but meaningless.


[Universal wisdom] There is wisdom that belongs to other dimensions and other worlds. Though mages, seers, prophets and astral travellers may know and speak of such, if it is not from the here and the now, it is useful only as a comparative tool. Use such only in your internal dialogue to remind yourself that the web of life is made up of alternative ways to "do" things. Attempting to apply such wisdom to this dimension will likely result in confusion and frustration. Chances are, the world you live in cannot accept such wisdom; your current dimension not designed to support it.

Fear not! Indeed, rejoice!

There Is Nothing New Under The Sun


I realize now my entire life has been about creating new thoughts from the fabric of life around me.  By dredging up every bit of data from the past, by observing this passing time and by delving into the future.  Much of that, of necessity, has come from reading what others have written about life as they see it.  From history; from classics; from religious tomes, not excluding perusing encyclopedias and absorbing information contained in some of the best science fiction and fantasy available. 


The mind hungers for information and it is up to me (that which is more than my mind) to feed it selectively so it can process meaningful data.  Of course that is what the "System" fears more than anything; why it feeds collective minds with such trivia and garbage as "news, weather, fashion, sports" and its ubiquitous brain-dead commercials.  Let the mind play with those ideas and numbers and frustrate itself to death.  Totally predictable result: docile slaves, sheeple filled with neuroses and endless fears and shattered hopes; who fill malls, churches, arenas, commute routes, court rooms, board rooms, doctors' clinics, psychiatric couches, voting booths, and dutifully sit in front of TV's to watch sitcoms or "reality shows" or "surf the net" looking for more junk food to sate their poisoned mind.  Want reality TV?  How about a show entitled "Meet the Believers!"?


The point of my process?  By painstakingly sifting out and eliminating the junk from my mind's diet it has gained a powerful sense of discernment.  By experimenting with the greater concepts, I was able to translate what I studied and absorbed as information into actual knowledge.  Knowledge, personal knowledge that is, translates as self-empowerment.  The ability to choose even when a system is in place making possibility of choice appear impossible.  Nothing is impossible.

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