“Planet Earth is blue and there’s nothing I can do.” -Major Tom (David Bowie)
Return with me to Nineteen-Sixty-Nine when universal dreams were fresh and new. The race was on; all bets were off on who would lead the way across the finish line as Russia surged ahead in the design of Sputnik, spurring U.S. efforts through the decade stepping up to mount a crew— one man’s small step, a leap for all mankind.*
With science and humanity positioned in love from Ground Control to Major Tom and David Bowie looking like a geek,** how hopefully the waiting world envisioned a brighter color in the days to come beyond this evanescent moody streak.
Inspired by the sci-fi novels of Douglas E. Richards and A.G. Riddle, who responsibly explore such themes as emerging technology, AI, the singularity, quantum physics, time travel, medicine, ecology, and human nature with an equal measure of despair and optimism.
“There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” – Albert Einstein
When stardust, quarks, and mystery combine to make a human, nothing can compare to possibilities. Some say beware of ultimate betrayal to confine the breath of life where tangled roots entwine with evolution. I can only stare in utter wonder, blinded by the glare of dazzling supernatural design.
For wedged between the elemental ash and sentient entity, surprises lurk in hidden crevices of every hue across the spectral plane, and in a flash all heaven is exposed. It’s but a quirk the miracle of promise can renew.
Blame the Asians, Jews and Blacks, blame Progressive Politicians. Blame the Natives. Launch attacks unrestrained by inhibitions. Bring your weapons, lock and load, wage your fiery hate invasions. Let society implode. Blame the Asians.
For those who think America’s history began with the arrival of white settlers. “After 75 years of obscurity following his death, Smith was rediscovered as the American whose explorations led to the use of the 20-mile (32 km)-wide South Pass as the dominant point of crossing the Continental Divide for pioneers on the Oregon Trail.”
“Are you a cul-de-sac or a channel?” – Nancy Woods
A home is offered on a cul-de-sac located at the bottom of a hill. The carpet, furniture, and bric-a-brac would be at risk in heavy rainfall; still, it seems a pleasant place to live. I’m told the problem’s not the overwhelming type, since rising water’s easily controlled by channeling. The groundwork’s laid, each pipe is needed in its place as, drop by drop, the depths are filled to bring one thirsty plant a crucial chance to flourish. Dammed up top, however, they won’t hold a trickle. (Can’t.)
Imagine a supreme communal force with every channel flowing from its source.
There’s a corner in the basement where nocturnal creatures spawn mortal fear that renders optimism sparkless, but the balance born of nature in the crucible of dawn is reserved for those who waited through the darkness.
Human history is littered with unspeakable events that would justify eternal condemnation but a nucleus of dreamers rising up to love’s defense can emerge from any faithless generation.
As the curtain falls on freedom through the apprehensive night, may a unifying spirit find us banded with rejuvenated purpose. Let it lead us to the light where impossibility is countermanded.
“Darkness will be preferred to light, and death will be thought more profitable than life; no one will raise his eyes to heaven; the pious will be deemed insane, and the impious wise; the madman will be thought a brave man, and the wicked will be esteemed as good.” -The Prophecy of Thoth
There will come a time, the ancients said, when Planet Earth is severed from the Spirit. As mystics strive to reconnect the thread with sacred speech, the people will not hear it.
Redemption must go deeper than the words to overthrow the pattern of stagnation in human consciousness that undergirds our currents of decline in co-creation.
For only when the willingness of one and all anothers unified by reason to forge ahead together has begun will heaven manifest its winning season.
And each alone can activate the glue that binds us to the cosmic retinue.
“My daddy changed the world.” Gianna Floyd, at only six, already understands that something monumental has occurred. She joins the ranks of children left to bear the burden of a murderous design infused into the bedrock of our nation.
Four hundred years of history reveal the willful subjugation of a line of people who, despite the barricades, survive in force to raise a mighty roar that shatters all illusion. We must stand in truth to finalize emancipation.
No longer will the platitudes suffice nor “thoughts and prayers” assuage an open wound. The time for reckoning is NOW, the day will soon give way to dusk, the moment lost forever if denial perseveres. The case demands authentic reparation.
Shades of Twenty-Twenty vision lie beneath abandoned cities packed with disregarded lessons of the centuries before. Finally the veil has lifted, there’s a purpose in tomorrow and the memories are fading from the year that brought the war.
Looking forward to commencement, parties, proms, and lazy summer leading into jobs or college, we were only seventeen. Some of us were undecided, some had mapped a certain future in the pattern of their parents. Others saw behind the screen.
Since we entered kindergarten we’d been tested, used, and herded for political agendas on the nation’s shrinking stage so it wasn’t unexpected when democracy imploded in a world already reeling from the chaos of the age.
Virus after virus followed, claiming half the population. News from other countries filtered slowly through the riot zone ’til the power grid was severed. While democracy imploded we were scrabbling for survival. Now we live on wits alone.
Here I stand, the single remnant from a family of seven, flanked by unified companions whose intention can increase coexistence with the planet. Taking only what is needed, with the help of one another we will make a lasting peace.
Coronavirus slithered through the sea to wake a nation unprepared to face its own reflection. Stumbling in the dark, the sleeping spirit stirs from shore to shore as, shaking chains of partisan divide, vibrations rise and rumble. Soon the chant becomes a roar, “Let’s make a better choice!”
This unexpected intermission taps the vast potential waiting in the wings. From dormant ranks, new patriots emerge with intellect, integrity, and love for fellow citizens. They’ll show us how.
With boundless greed invading like charging bulls, creating an atmosphere of hating all up and down the aisle, remember how we started with open hearts unguarded and immigrants rewarded for waiting by the mile.
For all have benefited from hordes that were admitted, like threads securely knitted in variegated style. Our tapestry unravels if loudly pounding gavels prevail. In all your travels, outshout them with a smile.
In the face of human need, may our voices be projected. Kindness shown in word and deed never leaves us unaffected. Whether given or received, fellow feeling fills the spaces hollowed by the woes perceived in the faces.
A field of energy surrounds exhibit halls, artistic grounds where wisdom flows. A soft wind blows from Mexico to Greece. In joining hands around the globe to touch the Dalai Lama’s robe, the threads connect; hearts intersect at avenues to peace.
Emerging from the planet’s core, the whisper soon becomes a roar — a rising tide to cast aside suspicion, hate and fear. With absolute impunity, the world embraces unity when chaos ends. It all depends on everybody here.
Compassion for our brother’s plight must hold a candle through the night. All cannot rest while one’s oppressed. Conditions inhumane erode our fundamental soul. Each person fills a vital role; we’re called to be the change we see in dreams. Let kindness reign!
I had an energizing dream about a peaceful morning when everyone alive awakes renewed. The air is pure, the water clean, no hint of global warming, and no one lacks for shelter, clothes, or food. The planet is awash with gratitude.
What happened to the weary world and all its weight of sorrow? What monumental, unforeseen event could render feuds forgotten as an ominous tomorrow became today? By mutual assent, nobody even wonders where it went.
But as the dreamer, watching from a cloud at twelve-eleven, I saw exactly how the shift occurred. It’s not like everybody had to die to go to heaven. The earth turned upside down, imbalance blurred, and in that moment, inner vision stirred.
So now it’s spring in Perth and autumn in the Rocky Mountains. Affluence is devalued, hope annealed. As fear is toppled to the bottom, overflowing fountains of love ascend to trump the sword and shield. The veil has lifted; heaven is revealed.
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