Accumulation and Loss

There are no exceptions,
If you start out with nothing,
But add to it everyday,
Even if it's just a little,
Eventually it will fill a canyon;
And you will have plenty.
Small seeds can lead to tall trees.
Like attracts Like.

Conversely,
If you start out with plenty,
But take from it steadily,
Even if it's just a little,
Eventually it will erode mountains;
And you will have nothing.
This is the way of all things,
This is the law of accumulation and loss.

Being Inaccessible

Nurture without possessing. 
Love without owning.
Never clinging nor exhausting.
Neither desperate nor alone.    
Without need or worry.    
At one, yet still apart.

The Overgrown Path

The Moon illuminated the slumbering  landscape with a pale, shimmering light. The ability to warm was not within its power and a ghostly presence was all it could muster. I trudged along the forgotten trail in silence, my eyes scanned the ground in front of me as I carefully picked my way through the overgrown path. The way was not perilous, but roots and branches jutted out across the way at irregular intervals to bite the ankles of an unwary traveler. I had been walking for well over an hour and my starting place in the valley below now seemed far away and hidden in darkness, only a few twinkling lights from the nearby village hinted at its general location. The hiking wasn't hard on its own, I had made this trek a handful of times during the daylight, but the chillness of the night air and difficulty of navigating a course by moonlight made progress slower than usual.

My destination still lay at least two hours ahead, the trail cut through the forest and wound its way up the side of some jagged hills, climbing to a dizzying height above the surrounding trees; before finally reaching its completion atop a rocky granite steppe. I looked up towards the direction where I thought it might lay, all I could see was a wall of impenetrable shadows. A sudden gust of wind swept through the treetops above me, creating an intriguing babble of unintelligible voices that filled the night air. I looked into the darkness of the forest, half expecting to see the glare from a thousand unfriendly eyes reflected back at me; but the frigid fluttering of leaves was all that was to be discerned.

There was nothing to fear from the cold night. I fished a crumpled pack of Parliaments from my weathered satchel and examined the contents. I was getting low, too low for comfort. I sparked one up anyway and exhaled a long thin stream of silvery smoke into the night air, savoring the burning in my lungs. Thoughts of Elisabeth raced through my mind as I hastily inhaled the body of the cigarette. 

Despite my best efforts, I had never been able to bring myself to fully let her go.  Even though we had not spoken for several months, she was still the first thought on my mind each morning when I opened my eyes. Memories of her gentle touch, shining eyes and slender figure blossomed each morning in the corridors of my imagination. Her laughter echoed through the halls of my mind like the enchanted melody of a mountain stream as it joyfully dances its way to the sea. Such good days lay behind me, it was hard to fathom how I could have lost it all so swiftly. Had life with me really become that unbearable?

I crushed the smouldering tip of my cigarette into a broken tree stump and banished the rhetorical question from my mind. It was time to shoulder my pack and venture further into the darkness ahead.  Such thoughts were pointless anyway, the past was the past and remains unchanged.  Even the most resourceful of sorcerers had thus far proven fruitless in their efforts to alter the past. The actions of times gone by were carved in stone like the great monuments of old, they stood frozen as a testament to the way things once were. Endless reflection, like the weathering of years, had done nothing to change their essence, only to reinterpret the personal decisions made in one's past. Unfortunately, the quest to answer that most fundamental of questions: why the events in my life occurred as they did, remained unconquered. I was no nearer to unveiling that mystery than I was to deciphering the cryptic laughter of the trees as they mocked me in the wind...

The full moon was now high overhead and a hush lay over the sleeping valley below, I was the lone witness to the majesty of the moon and cold stars this evening. I sat upon the hard granite, another Parliament clenched securely between my lips; I could go no further upon my current path.  A trail of smoke trickled out of my mouth and up into the void as I surveyed the scene before me. The number of lights in the village below had dwindled, but still stood out against the eerie landscape and offered the only reference point in an otherwise endless sea of dark trees. A steady wind always blew here on this exposed peak and the moonlit world below seemed overly far away. I struggled to make out the numbers on my watch, it was now nearing midnight and the purpose of my journey was at hand.

I pulled a small jar from my pack and gently shook the contents into my outstretched palm. The five shriveled mushroom caps glowed dully in the moonlight. I paused a moment before embarking, after this there was no turning back. A lonely call from a bird flying across the moon was my only omen to begin. One by one the mushrooms passed my waiting lips, the bitter taste overwhelmed my senses as my teeth crushed them into oblivion. I withdrew my canteen and took a few sips of water to wash away the dreadful flavor. I lit another Parliament and waited for the effect to take hold.

I did not have to wait long, my two days of fasting had not been in vain. Soon I felt the weight leave my body and I was light as a feather. I felt that if I were to jump from this precipice, I would but gently drift upon the wind like a leaf; arriving safely at home as if I had never left. What would I find there I wondered? Would I be able to sit outside my own window and watch myself comfortably slumbering by the fire? I chuckled at the thought and cast it aside. More important work was to be done tonight. I did not take measures such as these lightly and without great need. I could not afford to waste the opportunity that this night presented.

I took one last look at the valley below and stepped a few feet down from the summit. I found a place hidden from the ever searching fingers of the wind and nestled myself securely into a crevice between two of the larger granite outcroppings. I closed my eyes and gained control of my breathing. The kaleidoscope of colors exploded across my field of vision, temporarily forcing me to open my eyes. I closed them again with renewed vigor and by strength of will dismissed the allure of the colors dancing before me. Slowly they coalesced into a discernable scene and I watched as it unfolded before me. It was familiar yet strange all at the same time. The principles were the same, but the details were just a little bit off; reminiscent of an endless deja vu. I realized it was not a specific scene but rather an amalgamation of a previous period of my life.

It was a scene I likely would have witnessed about a year earlier, maybe longer. I saw Elisabeth sitting at a table facing the window, her long blonde hair flowing over her shoulders. Her clear blue eyes stared thoughtfully out the window at the falling snow.  She was holding a book in her hands that I did not recognize. Could it be a diary?  I could almost feel the warmth of her spirit as she spoke to me, but there were no words. I saw myself enter the silent image. I was much heavier back then, beardless and wearing atrocious clothing. I really don't see what she saw in me, I thought with a laugh. I watched as we talked and laughed and played around with one another, the very best parts of our relationship. Although the scene was silent, emotions were conveyed strikingly clear. I could feel the love in the room as a warm tingling on the surface of my skin and within the core of my being.  Then I watched as the two figures in the image slowly faded from view and the room in front of me shattered once more into a thousand twisting shapes and colors...

I opened my eyes and rubbed my temples as I reached for another Parliament. My silver Zippo flashed open and shut as I breathed in the cold night air equally with the smoke that issued from the filter. I sighed with regret, I was once more alone atop my solitary mountain. The night sky around me looked much the same as it had before, save that the moonlight now held more power due to my ingestion of the entheogens. A few clouds could be seen moving overhead, enslaved by the power of the wind, their hollow forms endlessly writhing and bending to the will of their master. After a few minutes I was able to regain my strength of will and I once again closed my eyes and stilled the colors.

The scene that appeared this time was a much less pleasant recollection. I saw that Elisabeth and I were seated in a crowded bar we used to frequent when we were together. The atmosphere was loud and obnoxious. Bar patrons smoked cigarette after cigarette filling the air with a thick haze. The latest pop hit played on the juke box and a few drunken college girls danced with each other in a corner. The pool table was surrounded by unkempt skaters wielding their cues clumsily. I saw myself take a shot of tequila and fight for Elisabeth's attention. She was always such a social butterfly in situations like these. Most of the time I didn't mind, but there were a few times where frustration would build up in me and I would behave in unpredictable ways. I always regretted it afterwards.

I reached for the hem of her shirt a fraction of a second too late and now she's bounding off again. I'm left alone. I can discern my thoughts within the vision. "Why did we come here again? You know she always gets like this when you come here. I should go home." On and on went the rambling of my thoughts. I can feel the frustration rising in my blood. I take shot after shot of tequila and I see myself losing control. I try to call out into the past and warn myself, but I'm a thousand miles away. For a second my dream self almost hears the warning, he can almost remember the words. But the destiny of that moment was just too strong. I watch helplessly as the me in the vision moves toward a skater Elisabeth was talking to. 

He was a short fellow who might not have been a bad guy, but his stupid grin was too much for me and then she touched his arm. I could feel my blood boil as the last vestiges of self control melt away. I erupt in curses and the shoving begins, I swing hard and plant a right cross squarely on his jaw. As he crumples to the floor, his friend steps in and I wrestle him to the ground as well. Things have gotten ugly so fast. The fight doesn't last long before bystanders break up the melee, but the damage is already done. 

Elisabeth is shouting at me now, my hand is bleeding and beginning to swell, but I am otherwise unharmed. My vision is hazy, I listen to her in silence for a few moments before shouting a slurred response. We looked into each other's eyes, struggling to find the connection we once shared. I reach out to take her hand but she steps away. I know I can't stay after what had just happened, so I make one more angry plea for her to come with me, but she refused. 

I wish I could say that this was where I found restraint, but that would be a lie. My words hit her with a greater force than my hands ever could. I'll never remember exactly what I said to her, such was my drunken state; but I broke something that night, something special that can never be repaired. After my tirade, I stormed out of the bar without looking back. Elisabeth was left standing there stunned, tears forming in the corners of her perfect blue eyes. Outside you can hear the squealing of tires as I speed away...

I shook myself back into reality, this was the absolute bottom, the point from which I would never recover her love or trust. I had relived this scene in my mind a thousand times before, wishing each time for a different outcome, yet it was always the same. Yes, this night was at the crux of it all. The door of survival and destruction whereby one can obtain joy and avoid misery. I had failed. Never before or since have I felt so ashamed of my behavior, so disgusted with my actions and so regretful at my lack of self control. But this life is such that bad days cannot be changed in the past, only avoided in the future. The fact was I had lost my love.

After that night in the bar I had been a changed man. I made my most valiant efforts to regain Elisabeth's love, but she was always quiet and distant and avoided my presence. I was devastated. The heartache I felt was greater than any other I've ever experienced. From the dark loneliness that beset me, there was no escape or respite. I carried out my days with little hope that happiness would ever shine on me again. I resolved to use this experience as a catalyst for growth, I would become a much better person because of my failing her. It was all I could do. I could not behave like that again, ever.  I knew that alcohol had played a major part in my downfall with Elisabeth so I vowed to abstain until such time as I could control myself properly. I became very obsessed with Castanada's concept of "Being Inaccessible" and the detached moderation it entailed.

Almost immediately I felt the affects of my renewed outlook on life. I could feel the growth within me, shooting me up to new heights scarcely dreamed of before. It was a renaissance of the spirit, a rebirth of the heart. I changed every habit, I dressed differently, ate differently, exercised voraciously. Each day brought me new momentum as I got further and further from where I began. A lifetime of alcoholism had been cured in a single night. I was baffled by the ease of it all. I was making changes that I had attempted to make for years but had never accomplished. Now I was getting results daily. It was all falling into place, but Elisabeth still wouldn't return my calls; and I had no way to show her how I'd changed or how much I still loved her.

I bided my time and as the weeks stretched into months, eventually Elisabeth was no longer my primary motivation to live a better life. I was now doing these things for myself, because I enjoyed being a better person. When I looked in the mirror I saw a much stronger individual, both physically and spiritually. I had always maintained that the night in the bar had been one of the worst nights of my life, but I was now able to view it differently. Without that breakdown, I could not possibly have achieved what I had in the months since. My abhorrent behavior had served as a springboard for my renewal. Like a Phoenix rising from its own ashes, I had taken the wreckage of this disastrous event and sculpted a better person from it.

I do not miss the cold irony of life's lessons often, and such was the case here. What a cruel shame it was that I had to sacrifice my love with Elisabeth to get here! What a paradox God had set up for me. I pondered what would have happened if I'd held my cool for five minutes longer. Would I still have Elisabeth by my side? Would I still be a fat sloppy drunk? Was it worth losing her to become a better version of myself? Why couldn't I have done all this without losing her?

As the cold wind whipped around my lonely mountain perch, I can only come up with one solid answer. Things happened the way they did and could not possibly have happened any other way. The road of life goes on and on, we are given the chance to learn valuable lessons over and over again. If you miss the point, you'll get a jolt. The longer you delay learning the lesson, the greater the jolt will become. Sometimes the burned hand teaches us best not to touch the flame. That which has been broken cannot always be fixed, so be impeccable in your actions and tread lightly. I have come to define faith not in association with any particular deity, but rather as the absolute belief that whatever is happening to me is exactly what I need for my own personal growth at that time. 

I light up my last Parliament and watch the first rays of sunlight pierce the darkness. A new day is rising, my feet will walk along a much clearer path now. The branches of my spirit have been clipped and pruned with care. A new resolve burns brightly within me, to make the most out of this new day. To humbly accept with faith whatever challenges present themselves to me. I still love Elisabeth, and probably always will, but now I must move on without her. I will always look back on her fondly for giving me this gift, because I never could have broken my patterns without losing her. 

I take one final look at the brightening valley below. Life is stirring in the village once more, miniature figures go about their daily business like ants under the sun, running to and fro with feigned purpose. So seldom do they stop to truly appreciate the opportunity that each new day presents.  I can't help but get excited for the adventures that lie ahead of me now. I shall approach them with my head held high and my eyes open for new doorways and opportunities. When everything is about learning and growth, how can I possibly fail?  I know that the next love will come along when the time is right and I won't have to walk this path alone forever.  I pause for one final moment to fill my lungs with the cool morning air; before I turn my head and gently drift back down the trail, light as a feather, like a leaf upon the wind...

We think we have time...

One of the greatest mistakes that we humans make in this world is to think that we have a lot of time here. When we are young and newly arrived into this reality, the minutes can seem to take an eternity to pass. Each day seems to last forever as we explore the majesty of the creation that surrounds us. As we grow older and more accustomed to operating in our surroundings, our perception of time begins to speed up. We stop paying attention to the little stuff and life becomes a routine. Once we reach middle age, we enter hyper-speed and each year passes faster and faster than the one that preceded it. Before we know it the ride is almost over. The years don't actually shorten of course, we are still on the same giant rock spinning around at over a thousand miles per hour, hurtling through space around a giant fireball at just under nineteen miles a second. That has not changed. What is changing is our perception of our days and our nights. The moments cease to have the same weight they used to.

We wake up each morning and live each day in many different ways, some days are good days and some days are bad; but we never consider that this might our last day. How many times a day do we wish time would go by faster? Trapped in some uncomfortable situation we yearn for the moments to slip by rapidly as we gaze toward an unknown future, never appreciating that we will not get these fleeting moments back. Once the grain of sand has slipped through the hourglass there is no returning. There is no guarantee that we will wake up tomorrow morning, no guarantee we will make it to watch today's sunset. We could depart this realm in five minutes, or live here another another fifty years. There are no guarantees, except that time stops for no one and Death catches everyone. It is the universal tax that we all must pay our creator.

We all know on some sort of intellectual level that one day we will die, but very few of us truly understand it in our bones that Death could come for us at any moment. There is no escaping it. Death finds both peasants and emperors, we are all equal when it comes to Death. For what good are riches and power when they can no longer buy you another breath of life? Full acceptance and understanding that one day the sun will rise without you is a difficult concept for the mind and heart to accept. So we push away the thought of Death as a curse that is always "out there" off in some far away future, instead of seeing it as an active participant in life. Some circumstances are impossible to change, yet our attitude towards those circumstances is easily changed.

When we cease viewing Death always as a far off curse, and instead began to accept its inevitable intrusion as our greatest challenge, one that can overcome us at any moment; our appreciation of time would increase. We would soon realize that all of our petty routines are not quite as important as we thought they were. Thus, our behavior begins to change, slowly at first and then faster and faster, our actions would become more authentic. As more and more people adopted an honorable way of life, our communities would improve, our cities would begin to heal, and our world would become more magical. Each action and decision would have increasingly more weight and meaning behind it, knowing full well that it could be your last on Earth. Losing sight of this understanding has been one of our great mistakes and has led to what has gone so wrong in our world. If people had a real understanding of the nature the reality and that any second their experience here will end, that we are all equal on a fundamental level; they would be more conscious of their personal actions. I don't mean personal safety or the legal dispensation of personal affairs. It is much more serious than that and impacts daily life on a much greater scale. When you are no longer guaranteed time to atone for your mistakes, you are more careful in your words and deeds. The stakes are raised, every minute we are playing for keeps, we cannot take anything back. Our decisions are seen as final and there is no way back.

Under such a way of being we would subtly become detached from the petty problems we all face each day, our thinking would become focused on what truly matters to each one of us. Honorable living would arise, secure in our knowing that repentance at a later date would be impossible, we would live each moment in the present. Even the bitter moments would become a joy to us, as we would come to understand that even these moments are precious and short lived. We should cherish each joy and heartache. Do not bemoan the challenges set before you. Whether of humble means or princely robes, at the moment of our death, the only thing of worth is the record of how we lived our life. That final knowledge that each moment of life was spent consciously and appreciated fully for its unique experience. Knowing that we learned from our mistakes and were the best that we possibly could be in any situation is all we can ask for. In such a way of living we would cease to view our life as a never ending series of blessings and curses, but see each day as a living challenge. A means of sharpening our will and our consciousness in the fiery crucible of life; as we prepare for the next great adventure in the galactic symphony of creation.

Vernal Snow

Vernal Snow

The snow is falling softly now,
The torrent of the night has passed.
The world now dreams in a dim twilight,
The sun has not yet risen.

I look out onto the sleeping world,
A restful peace holds sway.
Broken only by the falling snow,
And a lonely cry far away.

The sky begins to brighten now,
The sun struggles to pierce the clouds.
I am gripped by a sudden hunger,
My heart aches with past regrets.

I look out onto the sleeping world,
And cherish each moment of silence.
Everything is so peaceful now,
So different from the Darkness.

The new dawn has changed so much,
From the harshness of the night.
I wonder what this day will bring,
Shall I ask the Vernal snow?

A Matter of Choice

As we reach the end of November 2013, I look out my window and I see a crisp bed of brown pine needles patiently awaiting the first flakes of freshly falling snow that are now but a few weeks away. Not a very odd sight for this time of year, even in the unpredictable Sierras. It has been quite a long time since I last posted on this blog, almost four years if you are counting, but not much has changed for the better in this world of ours. Tyranny still stalks our every move, the totalitarian tip-toe has become a totalitarian sprint as whistle-blowers increasingly threaten to sound the alarm and expose the plan before it is fully ripe. The Control system rushes to tighten the noose around our collective throats before the mass of humanity awakens to their wicked scheme, will they succeed? A quick search across the internet paints a grim picture indeed. The charade that is the world economy is quickly floating down a river of fraud and debt towards oblivion and utter collapse, the sound of the falls may be faint, but can be dimly heard above the corporate corruption. The stock market goes up and up like a yo-yo on a one way string, bereft of gravity's laws, but cannot avoid truth forever. Gold is on the lips of many, but they are not all kind words, and some prefer the thralldom of the Alchemists to the discipline and freedom of honest money. We can but watch helplessly as Fukushima's crippled reactor endlessly spews the contents of Pandora's Box into the Pacific Ocean threatening all life, save that of the lowly cockroach and perhaps a few of the seedier politicians.

Across the world, immigration issues have been brewing for decades and and racial tensions threaten to ignite vicious race wars in many parts of the globe. Fascist laws imposed to combat this manufactured problem are reminiscent of old Nazi movies where stone faced, black uniformed officers sternly demand: "Papers please!" The Federal Government certainly is on the verge of implementing a shiny new police state that would make George Orwell cower in fear beneath an iron boot. Is the Utah Data center up and running yet I wonder? Meanwhile, Hollywood continues the corruption of our children with hidden messages of sex and violence that run subliminally across theaters, TV's and toy stores. Teen idols are built up as a moral choice only to be corrupted and defiled when they turn 18. Sports heroes are bronzed and idolized only to be revealed as cheats, adulterers, rapists and murderers. Each class of students leaves our dilapidated schools more disillusioned and hopeless than the one before it. A brutal Holy war of radicalization and terror rages across the middle east, it's flames stoked by clandestine instigators on both sides of the conflict. A conflict where fighters from all sides have kicked human decency into the gutter. There are no rules in love and war, and there is certainly too much of one and not enough of the other present in the world today. ON and ON it goes.

The world is indeed a perilous place. It would be very easy to sit in a dark room and bemoan the fate of the world for hours without end. I know that I have spent a few late nights contemplating the meaning of these times and wracked my brain thinking of vain solutions to problems that people won't acknowledge. These are dark times in the world, and we are so often conditioned to fear everything we see on the news about the world around us. Death lurks around every corner, and every news report is laced with fear. But in reality, I am more likely to meet my death upon an icy road in the dead of winter a mile from my house than I am meeting my doom at the hands of a Chinese soldier or a terrorist's bomb. I can see it now. For a split second the cold snowflakes shimmer in the headlights as they drift down from the frozen darkness above, I might lose focus for a split second as a detestable song comes across the radio, and just as I move to change channels; a person who is normally the safest driver in the world gets a text message and skids across the double yellow line, borne upon the wings of fate. Statistics, yet so much more.

Death could truly tap us at any moment, regardless of age, race, religion, class, intelligence, education, wealth or lifestyle there is no escape. There are no survivors left upon this earth. Death will find us no matter how many civil liberties we have relinquished or how much health insurance we have been mandated to buy. The tainted vaccines for diseases we can't pronounce peddled by snake oil salesmen won't save us either. Death will come at the appointed hour at the appointed place and force us to tackle the next leg of our cosmic journey. There is no telling when this time will be. On another day, on another road, perhaps the snow does not fall, maybe the song on the radio does not offend my taste and disrupt my focus, maybe the text message doesn't get through and the safe driver remains safe. Maybe both cars drive off in opposite directions,never to cross paths again on this earth. There is no foretelling when just another breath in and out will become the last breath we will ever take on this Earth.

We are unquestionably placed amidst a world mysterious beyond our ability to understand. The forces that surround us cannot possibly be comprehended, much less controlled by our feeble methods. We drift helplessly through a sea of icebergs. The choices we make are just as likely to lead us to our demise as our salvation. Flip a coin, because the only real choice we have in the end is in how we behave while making our choices. We can either behave Impeccably, seizing each moment as our last and doing much better than our very best at every task put to us. Or we can behave sloppily, as buffoons, carelessly casting each precious chance into the void as we "kill" time. How mournful is the poor man who has squandered his few pennies through foolishness and then complains that he has nothing?

Whenever I get sad or depressed about the current situation, I try to remember that I chose to be here on this rock surrounded by infinity. In this time, in this place, with these challenges. I choose to humbly accept the road ahead of me, meeting each obstacle not as a blessing or as a curse, but rather as a living challenge; met impeccably without applause or complaint. Since all roads eventually lead to death anyway in truth there is but one choice set before us. To either succumb to fear, or to meet that fear with Impeccability in the face of whatever is set before us. For the warrior-traveler who truly walks this daily path with dedication, there is really no choice at all, just Impeccability.

The Beautiful Storm

Close your eyes and listen for a moment, can you hear the fierce call of the wind as it whips across the jagged peaks? There is something hidden within the shrillness of its cold wail. It cannot be seen by the eagle, nor can it be heard by the fox, but its effects can be felt by the wise. Scientists cannot measure it, tax men cannot count it, poets cannot describe it; yet it is present within everything that they do. Mountains cannot stay high because of it, deserts do not stay barren because of it, and it is why no dynasty can last forever. It makes a habit of taking from those who have much, and giving to those who have little, filling canyons, toppling mountains and grinding the stones into dust. Completely formless and hidden, it drifts upon the breath of the wind, driving evolution and transforming generations as it renews the world. One must become keenly aware of the things that cannot be seen with the eyes, if one would understand this mysterious power.

A great storm approaches from the distant edges of creation. The frozen wind issues forth from the darkness beyond the void, stirring the silence of this sacred place, upon its heels follows an army of clouds. The crystal mirror is shattered upon the rocks and the trees sway wildly in the path of the irresistible power. As the clouds steadily advance over the western mountains, the hidden force of the wind drives them on. The herald of the approaching storm trumpets the great arrival upon massive horns of passion and fury. Its cold breath sweeps over the mountains and prepares the way for its violent master, and all things are thrown into chaos at his approach. Like swarming locusts, the gnashing teeth of the storm tear into the trees and claw upon the rocks as they make war upon land and sea, nothing is spared. The once calm waters now crash upon the shore in destructive angst, taking their vengeance out upon the sand.

The storm approaches without any regard to the actions of man; neither sage nor demon can stop it. It operates along its own agenda for its own mysterious purpose and no one can divert it. Sometimes the storm brings ice, other times it carries fire; the forms it takes are many. Wars, famines, economic depressions and even celestial collisions are all masks worn by the storms that intrude upon our world. Some will rage longer than others, but none can last forever, and the powerful winds that turn the world to madness will not perpetually blow. The scars left in the storm's wake will often be seen for generations afterwards, a constant reminder of the awesome power of creation. In the days after the storm, many crooked charlatans will seek to make an unfair profit off those injured by the tempest and the process is defiled by their misdeeds. A storm is a perilous time for the seeker of truth, for in the commotion, the minds of the weak are quickly turned towards insanity. In their panic they inevitably trample one another in a stampede of rats fleeing a sinking ship.

Therefore the wise traveler will take care to find refuge before the coming of the storm and escape the panic of the masses. An approaching storm can be felt by those able to achieve stillness in their hearts and minds. Its myriad signs are to be found in the air before the arrival of the gusting winds; and he is able to hide himself within the fastness of the Earth and ride out the assault of the wind in safety. While chaos reigns in the world above, he maintains peace and order within himself and thus remains unharmed until the sky is once again clear and the way safe.

But this is not always possible, and there are times when a storm will come upon a traveler when he is far from home; approaching so fast that he will not have the time to seek adequate shelter. The traveler may find himself caught in rough waters aboard an inadequate vessel. The unfortunate traveler is forced to weather it as best as he may, his small boat tossed about in the high waves, he must steady his course. Barely discernible amid the angry waters, he struggles to fight the powerful torrents that surround him on every side, but he does not waste his spirit by lamenting his fate. For despite the desperateness of his situation, he is enamored with the power that besets him and remains unafraid in the face of annihilation. He marvels at the brute strength of the waves and the harsh music of the wind, but he knows he is in danger. If he waits too long to find a safe port, his vessel will inevitably capsize and he will perish amid the tumults.

As the flow of the wind finally dissipates, a strange calmness will come upon the land in the midst of the storm. It will be possible for one whose curiosity burns brightly to venture out into the world for a time and experience the magic of the falling snow. Cautiously at first, he raises his head; the wonderland that greets his eyes is indeed stunning. The majesty of the storm's vanguard has given way to the endless flakes of snow that gently float down from heaven. A strange energy now fills this place and all sounds are muffled, not everyone is quite as adventurous, and the brave traveler has the world to himself for a time. By staying the chatter of his mind, he enjoys all of the mysteries that surround him, but remains ever vigilant of any change in the wind and does not stray too far from the warmth of his sanctuary.

The inevitable return of the wind eventually drives the adventurer back underground and it is not a time for exploring. The snow begins to fall horizontally, blinding those who remain above ground; they bitterly condemn the renewal of the wind as they struggle against the current of the storm. The cold begins to wear down the resolve of the traveler and the warm layers of accumulated knowledge are forgotten. Disoriented in the icy corridors of the labyrinth, many will be tempted to surrender to hopelessness and curl up into the frozen embrace of the snow; laying aside the burden of their journey. But this is the coward's way out, and one who is unwilling to give up his task, must reach deep down within himself and rekindle the secret fires that fuel his spirit; and press on through the blizzard. This inner flame will not only warm his body, it will be a shining light which will guide him through the turmoil of the times. The imperishable flame will have been made strong within him by his many years walking upon the inner path. It will serve him well in these times of churning snow and it is one of the most potent weapons in his arsenal. He must use everything at his disposal to survive the onslaught, and he will not waver until he sees the blooming of the first flowers of spring beneath his feet.

These are strange times we live in, the storm is approaching as we speak and it is very difficult to separate reality from illusion. Even those things that seem to be true, in the end are only reflections of the truth and it is hard to tell which way is up and which way is down. Trapped in a house of mirrors, many travelers will become enamored with the reality of the reflection and dive headlong into the illusion, only to find themselves drowning in falsehoods spewed forth from the abyss. It is in these times when the wise traveler will remain centered within himself and not become trapped in the illusion. He is able to notice the subtleties hidden within the reflection and cannot be fooled by their allure. And although he may appreciate their beauty, he looks past the flowery speech and empty promises offered by the false gods, and instead sees the purposes behind their hidden actions in full light of day. He is able to reject their cruel hoaxes and discover the truth of the matter in any situation. He sees the illusions for what they are, falsehoods concocted to deceive the unwary and draw them into oblivion. But the curtain will be lifted, and the false gods will be exposed as frauds and cast out. Nothing can last forever and the endless cycles of time will bring forth many unforeseen changes.

Creation utilizes the power of storms to bring about these changes and to shape the world for the children that are to come. One who has sensed the approaching storm and survived its fury, knows full well both the dangers and the opportunities concealed within the winds. He no longer fears the storm because he knows what weapons it will bring and what will come after its passing; he has taken the worst it has to offer and grown stronger and wiser through the ordeal. All the howling of the wind, the frozen rains, the driving snow, the economic crashes, the endless wars, the lonely road, even his own death; they are all nothing to him now. He has seen what the darkness brings, and he laughs at it within himself. It is quite comical to him. Laughing at the world is a medicine that cures many ails and brings both joy and wisdom to the spirit. There are so many who take the world too seriously these days, they spend their finite lives weeping at the injustices of the world without first seeking out its great beauty. They become sick and insane because they are so full of worry, and they unwittingly contribute to the misery and chaos of the world with their fears. Laughing cures this affliction and a good deal of pettiness is dropped when the world is not taken so seriously. The wise traveler knows that after every dark storm, the world renews itself in brilliance and his spirit will once again soar upon the gentle breezes and look down on the wonder that is creation.

The key to discovering the secret of the storm, is the understanding of collapse. Everything in the world will collapse when its time is done, it is the unbreakable law of creation. The pillars will break, the foundations will crumble and the roof will shatter into dust; but flowers will soon rise from the rubble. The law of collapse uses the violence of the storm as its agent of renewal. As the storm decimates the weak, foolhardy and unbending of the old order, it paves the way for the arrival of the flexible new generation. One day, a massive storm will cut the very legs from the Control System that currently keeps us locked into a closed mind frame and narrow vibrational frequency, enslaving us to its will. When the Control System crashes into ruin, it will be so utterly broken and defeated that even its memory will be obliterated from the pages of history. The storm that will accomplish this will be unlike any other in living memory; its winds will be deafening, its fires unquenchable and its force irresistible. But it will serve to bring about a brighter day than any we have ever known, therefore it should not be feared; only respected.

This perpetual cycle is the way of nature, it is driven by the hidden power within all things, and we are part of it. Like the undulating ocean, the rising and falling of creation is endless in its melodies. Another storm always lurks just beyond the distant horizon, biding its time until it is called forth; its power a threat to our fragile bodies. But those things that bring harm to the body should not be feared, they are but trifles and should not be troubled over, easily overcome by one who has come to understand the purpose of the storm. By stilling his heart and emulating the water, he rises and falls with the waves, and he is never injured, no matter how many times his body is dashed against the rocks. We are not these frail bodies of sinew and bone, our spirits are as water; fluid, formless and powerful.

It is time we understood our true nature and stopped behaving as though we were victims. The Control System strives to keep us weak and afraid, and it does everything in its power to delay the day of its inevitable demise. Do not be troubled by the New World Order and its sinister illuminist minions. They may well have complex conspiracies and classified agendas, but creation has its own plans and cares nothing for the schemes of foolish men who seek only the domination of others; while they remain uncontrolled within themselves. Dark suits such as these will have no place in the world of tomorrow nor any share of its riches.

This time is fast approaching and you must understand the power within the wind and know both its purposes and its ends if you wish to survive the coming storm. No matter how dark the times may seem or how hopeless the situation, it is essential to focus not on the dark clouds that crowd the horizon; but rather appreciate the beauty that sits before you. For if the world has lost its beauty, what is the point of saving it? And although it may be impossible to prevent calamity from striking, you can control yourself and remain unconcerned about it when it arrives. Remember that hidden within the ominous clouds of the storm, the driving winds of creation carry the seeds of a new tomorrow and the promise of renewed vigor for all things that can weather its fury.



The Storm approaches, just listen to the wind...