Nothing could describe the way I felt after studying the script so intensely, so …dramatically, and just when I thought I was ready to perform for the many… startled, someone pulled the curtain to skirt across the stage – you’re on, and do not fuck this up.

My voice had cracked and my eyes burned from the costume make-up that had been applied (what seemed only days ago) because of the sweat directly funneling to their corners. Break a leg, stop your tears, the show must go on.

As the curtain track made the sound of full extension, and the blare of the lights shouting “Action!”, I remember the faces without bodies just floating there in the dark waiting to be fed. My concern was that I would hear scoffs and see eyes rolling, shortly to leave the stage by a large hook and wearing tomatoes head to toes. Ladies sat there that didn’t want to be there, they’d be so much happier with their soaps at home. Fellas that had to be there were there either under duress or because the Chicago Cubs hadn’t won a game and there was a needed change in the witnessing of defeat. More in part it was all just good ‘ol cheap entertainment.

I first noticed the thrill of theater when I realized that inside my head I could be in two places at once, to exist and perform all the while performing to exist. With the lights burning brightly in the dead-hushed house and only the sound of my shoes on the hardwood stage, I had to remember what my director told me as encouragement when I felt nervous, the pause to recall seemed to be hours long.  He said in his funny, ironically un-thespian voice, “Just act, think and feel what the writer wanted to convey in the message. Be in the feeling.” I tried, it was hard. There may have been any where between 75 to 250 people in the old auditorium, remembering my director’s words, I had to imagine everyone in their underwear, it made me feel protected knowing I had more clothes on than any one else in the entire building. Glad my leg is not broken, only bruised… Still tears in my eyes, the show must go on.

The sound that moved through my larynx caused everyone to laugh, to bellow. I knew that with more practice and exposure I’d get it right, mistakes had to be made by everyone. It’s always best to make your errors doing a Steinbeck production versus a Shakespearian masterpiece. Maybe I needed to practice using my brand new man-voice that seemed to have arrived over night. Practice, patients, learn. Quickly, I covered it up and incorporated it into the part.

I can still smell the perfume of the lead actress… the floor made no sound as she floated across it, her reality I’ve pondered too many times. She had to be because she was the one that diligently, passionately taught me about stage presence and timing, she had a lot in front of her yet she chose to help me along. Only two people had shown up for the final performance, in spots it was a total train wreck, although I know they didn’t notice because of our superb ability to hide the forgotten line and ad lib to recover. The production was my favorite of all the acts, the humor intermingled with chest clutching drama, it was just brilliant. Skinned knees, not broken… Tears streaming down my face. The show must go on.

As the auditorium lights dimmed, the curtain came closed. We hailed each other’s credits and thanked the supporting cast. The director comforted and ensured us it was not as bad as we thought, it was believed when he gave us that huge smile and told us not to become strangers. There were applause, smiles, and understanding of the part. In that, I felt the production was a smash hit. My name might never go up on the marquee, but it was a real good test of skill. She turned to me and said, “Good luck, break a leg”, we were off to study the next script.

Just a limp, not broken… Everyone can put their clothes back on now, the show must go on.

Where are my shoes, I hunted, all I found were socks that came to be fully stretched well above my knees. If anyone should see me, they would be sure to have a good laugh, deservedly earned. I speculated someone was playing a trick on me, as I found that my coffee had been replaced with mango soda. Not bad, I’ll go along with it.

I started for the door. A feeling of common idealism overwhelmed me, here I was about to step outside in my exagerated longer than life socks, tee-shirt and boxers all the while sipping on my cup of strangeness. The only thing missing from this scenario was the collection of the daily news paper at the door step, the Cleaver style wave to the neighbor and the Griswold’s super babe winking at me as she drove by in a red Ferrari, in turn causing me to miss my mouth with the next sip of  mango soda that I pretended was fine Columbian dark roast.

My next step towards the door would begin to change everything, it caused my nerves to tingle inducing a sever case of chicken-skin to envelop my entire body. Watching in amazement as all of the walls had become wavy curtains of pastel colored linens, the sun’s anticipated bright intensity had given way to a calm blue glow as he and she continued their ascent into the sky. There was a gentle breeze that seemed to offer some degree of comfort, just enough to be felt on my eyelashes. Would they meet or just pass each other on the course? Would they kiss?

I pulled the undulating sheets to the side, not dismissing the feel of the smooth texture of its surface, what was not in my hand brushed past my arm, finding the triggers to each nerve ending of each of my hair’s follicles.

What a sight! Everything had been flooded away, or had it always been like this I wondered. What did I know yesterday, who was I yesterday, didn’t I watch the History Channel last night and have a bag of microwavable pop corn before bed? Was there something “funny” in my mango soda?

I felt a fear that caused me to want to back away from the site for a moment, giving myself a brief opportunity to shake my head and reevaluate my new findings. That moment would not come. As I turned about and saw that there was nothing but oceans of water as far as the eye can see, I succumbed to the feeling of helplessness, slipped into the water and began to swim.

I swam for days never seeing anyone, or anything. I kept asking, “What is this? If this is now, what was then? When will the heavens cry and wash this all away? Did I feed the dog?” I realized there would be no answer to any of the questions without an opposite to all that is. Rolling over onto my back to take a break from the swim, I saw the clouds moving away getting smaller and smaller as they blew by. I noticed that one of the clouds were dotted with specks of black, life. commanding my eyes to adjust and focus, I saw that the specks were frigates soaring at extremely high altitude. I’ll start swimming to the north now and follow the birds.  

Back to the swim one arm over the next in succession, I opened my eyes while my face was under water and only saw the shimmering spectrum of light to describe the vast depth of the water I was swimming in, a guess was not even available. For days more I swam, I could only hope it was in the correct direction.

The blue water began to change hue, giving me the soul felt hope that maybe I had made it to shallower waters and that I can end this swim. My next stroke over head would be met by a force that would lift me out of the water and onto a grey rocky shore graced with large black boulders and gnarled sections of bleached out driftwood. The sun and moon have since met, only to make a descent together hand in hand sleeping in the east.

I had nothing but time, I was aware of this much. So in trade for swimming it was now to walk, “This is the first time I had been to a beach with no sand” I thought to myself, “No small crabs or palm trees in the lap of the limestone cliff line”. I found myself looking all around, under rocks and logs, not knowing what it was that I was looking for. I was just looking, passing the time, not unlike the way someone might idly flip though the used music section at a record store.

Finding myself walking back to the south along this colorless shore, I thought I heard voices in the distance, harmony. Yes, as I was now trotting down the path and hopping from boulder to log to boulder getting closer to the hundreds of voices composing this melody, I found a walrus congregation singing in magnificent baritone. I knew this song, it was my favorite as a child. I found myself involuntarily singing along,

“The owl and the pussycat went to sea in a beautiful peeeea green boat, they brought some honey and plenty of money wrapped up in a five-pound note…”

My eyes began to well up as the memories of who I used to be resurfaced. I remember running through the jungle to my favorite cave to hide away on many occasions. There I could fall asleep and wake up to find the Duwende dancing under the banana leaf that I placed there earlier in hopes to see the little faeries before the sun set.

Now I was weary, yet remained intrigued. These gigantic animals were only singing to amuse themselves, I sat on a log and enjoyed the music, the sound was rich and sincere. Then they stopped singing and began to hum as one of the largest creatures I have ever seen turned to look at me, with all of his majesty he cocked his head to the side to allow his enormous tusks to follow along the left side of his body. I returned the gesture and they resumed in chorus.

The moon had set, the sun had risen just as they always have. When I looked back to the hosts of music they were all gone, the grey surroundings have shifted back into the world I know, I was sitting at the kitchen table staring into my cup of black coffee. As I write this the humming of the walrus remains locked in my head.   

I have been hit with bouts of insomnia this last week, it’s a vehicle that a familiar demon uses to help bring me to a place of self-realization. I just knew this would be happening soon because life has been upside down for me lately. It’s not a surprise, it never is. I feel tired then I go to bed, as soon as I lay down I’m awake. There I lie for 4 or 5 hours praying for sleep to come only to find it arrives just as soon as it should be ending. I have too many things going on in my head, ideas, solutions, worries, and dialogs that will not clear. No matter how I try.

It was 3 a.m., my wife and Dj were still asleep and I could hear Dominic dreaming. It was phenomenally cold, that is what woke me up. I normally sleep with my feet out from under the blanket because I sleep too warm, I wish I hadn’t. I quickly pulled them back under the blanket and tried to get another hour of sleep before my alarms triggered. I say alarms because I have a few, only to ensure that I get up on time, especially since 4 a.m. is not far from 11 p.m.  and if I do make it to a good sleep will I wake up on time…?

I have my cell phone alarm set at 3:59 it is the nicer of the alarm sounds, the kind that is very recognizable in a sleep state. It is a recording of my singing bowl toning. I use this bowl as my alter bell normally, it has a thick sound to it and it really perks my spirit’s ears almost to say, “Time for craft work, you”. If that doesn’t wake me up the next alarm is from my work cell phone. This one is a little less friendly, it’s an alarm that vorizon preloaded into the phone and it is supper annoying. It’s a snip of a heavy metal song, I think its Steve Vai or Joe Satrioni, some sell out that only composes for lite beer commercials now days. This is set at the highest volume and it repeats until I wake up and turn it off. The trick is,  it’s located on the other side of the room, it goes off at 4:00. At 4:01 I have my plug-in alarm go off, I hate this one because it causes brain hemorrhaging and in step flows profusely from the ears. This one is a three stage alarm that you might hear at a nuclear waste facility as a warning that containment has been compromised and you better run for the hills, run for your life. Brutal.

I went to sleep as soon as I could that night. After spending time with my wife who just underwent  a massive dental procedure that was very untimely, I started to cook dinner. As that was going it was the perfect opportunity to roll around with Dominic and rhyme some words with him. He really is catching on to speaking and I am endlessly impressed with his advancements. I noticed it was time for his favorite t.v. show and I could sneak away and talk to Dj about how his day at school went. He had a field trip today and saw the Nutcracker, I asked him what he thought of ballet, all he could say is that it was “interesting”. This made me laugh.

Everyone started to slow down a little and it was getting close to bed time. If I time this right and snag one of those little pain killers my wife was just prescribed, I might just get some super good sleep. And that is what I had done.

I was asleep before I even got to the bed. My wife was the last one standing this night and that is not how it usually works in this house. I’m the one that checks to make sure the door is locked, the windows are latched, and everything is turned off. She gave me the night off, thanks Nen.

Sleep was not all that I’d hoped it to be that night, the vicodan had made my body sleep but had neglected my mind. It was like I had been bound and restrained the whole while needing to be somewhere important. It was “Operation Mindcrime”, being very aware inside yet the body remains unresponsive. My mind was still racing but I was not moving, so I used this situation as a opportunity to reflect and meditate (since I was already there) about the current events in my home. Positioning my chakras with the same amount of intention as one might be setting spoons and bowls at the table in preparation for the soup that was almost ready to serve.

I was intrigued to see the inside of me as vividly as I did. Noticing the paint job needed some touch-ups, how dirty I have allowed all the windows to become, just how dusty everything was, all of the tools were scattered, unorganized, and how badly they needed oil. I needed to start cleaning on the inside. Wait, whats this? My toes feel like they’re freezing solidly, I woke up.

…No, I would not wake up on time, in fact those alarms were going off, all of them. The soft toning of the bell had given way to a loud guitar chop that sucked eggs in the middle of a nuclear disaster! I shut them all off, and blew the fog from my mind. Then it was time to panic. No wife, no kids, where was everyone? How late for work was I, and is this real?! Just then I heard the front open and close, I ran to find my answers. There was my beautiful wife with my outstanding children. She had asked me how I had slept, I asked for the time. She said calmly, “It’s 11 a.m., why?” I was angry and dumbfounded, why had she let me sleep through more than half my work shift, she smiled with love and light in her heart… and said, “We went to the park, it’s Saturday.”

Solvere Abeo

A quiet moment to get the morning news, a nose to the wind tells me all I need to know for the mean while. I smell smoke, the outsiders are back. My grandfather told me once that a long time ago the outsiders used to think like all of us here. They weren’t even considered strangers back then, they were a part of all of this, all of this nature. I remember him telling me and my sister that when they got the pain in their stomach they would ask for food, come in groups with spears and we would give happily because they never took too much, never took what they didn’t need, never… never wasted. It was an honor to assist, we were all the same then. They have all vanished, but come back every season to take away, it’s different now.

I never thought I’d see an outsider for myself until last season, just like moments ago, I smelled the smoke and found myself too close. I smelled the outsider first, then my nose zeroed my eyes in on him. He was three hills away, definitely a full day’s walk for a healthy bear. I remember standing there on the look out above the river thinking, “Hmmph, smaller than I thought, but wow, cool.” I turned to walk away and heard cracks and pops, then I felt a bee tear through my front paw. Bees have only been able to get me on the nose, but thats only when I make them mad and I know in my heart I didn’t make anyone mad today. An indescribable pain started to develop in my paw, more cracks and pops. I turned and looked back over my shoulder to the outsider, who if you hadn’t smelled first would never had seen at all because he is so incredibly far away. Then I put it all together, he is sending the bees to me, to hurt me, kill me. He didn’t ask, he has no spear… crack… pop… POP! The bees are hitting the ground around me now. I ran as fast as I could on three paws, I lost him.

Why was this happening? Why couldn’t he be a little more brave and stand in front of me, would he have even put my flesh to use after I let it go? I didn’t want to assist, I wanted to rip his head from his body and then open his belly, I wanted to spill him. As I lay there bleeding, on fire with anger, behind a fallen tree that was pinched between to massive boulders I looked at my paw and saw he almost removed my smallest toe. Using my front teeth I picked it off and let it fall, the bugs will find it and use it. I was happy to just be living.

I stayed there at the log for a few more days just to make sure I could get back to the den without being targeted again, I still can’t figure out how he saw me from so far away, again… happy just to be alive, thankful to be back home.

Last season at this time I almost died, I’m wiser now. The patches of snow have stopped melting. Temperatures will keep the ground frozen from here on out, slush is becoming firmly adhered to the surrounding pine needles and granite boulders in some areas, hiding the path that I have been working on since I was a cub. I’ve seen a lot of animals on that path, my friend the coyote has brought his pups and his pup’s pups up and down that trail several times. He had mentioned this turn of the wheel will continue on to Ostara without him. The leaves that fall will be his final blanket, but how thankful he was to have learned as much as he had and to have been a part of it all, now to continue on in a different way. That really caught my attention, because I never could take him too seriously… until then. The look in his one good eye told me that he knew what he was talking about.

All the leaves have turned and begin to fall, this means we are all going to have to change the way we think and act. Everyone that can should be gaining some weight. I never look forward to how tough it gets in the next couple of weeks, ironically enough I think this is my favorite season. Everyone is really busy today, the jays are reinforcing the stick and grass walls of their nests while the coyotes are digging their dens deeper, squirrels and chipmunks are packing away seeds and nuts like they are going out of fashion. I have been using the same bunch of branches and rocks to sort of block my den opening for years now. This will keep my warm air in and as soon as snow begins to build on the front then it will then keep the bitter cold wind that freezes my wet nose out as well.

The beginnings always start rough, not all make it, but those that do witness the magic of the Goddess and another full turn of the wheel. Every year I walk down to the river under a moon filled sky and say a prayer to Her before I go in for the sleep. Standing on the river rocks and how they make my paws feel, a little uncomfortable, reminds me of my missing toe and all that I have to be thankful for. The owl is faithfully there to carry my message away to Her. With freshness in my heart I say,

“You’ve held me long, You’ve held me tight. Bring your love as warmth throughout the long cold night”

I see a stag old in days stop on my trail and look right at me, then I bow my head with gratitude for all the blessings that I have found this year and for the years to come.

Not only am I feeling the pull of rest, the Father is tired as well, He will rest soon for stronger days to come. I am happy to be alive and whisper with love, the words that close my prayer and send me into sleep,

“Conlecto Renovare”

The job site is a stressful one, but the fellas on the project all realize this and we will be pushing through it just as steadily as possible. We are a bunch of workers from all over California looking to improve yet another school and more importantly provide for our families who we love with every fiber back home. That is what we have in common. We cant wait for this to be over so we can go home and feel the love in waves of sound from our children. My oldest has received Honor Roll in school, again. While my youngest has discovered new found friendships with the eggs that e! has hard-boiled. He names them, dances with them, then proceeds to eat them Godzilla fashion!

On my thoughtful drive back from the dessert, I noticed how the scrub brush began to give way to spotty stands of eucalyptus trees and in turn to billboards. Successfully and remorsefully removed from an extremely natural environment and placed into a far less graceful one. Straight into one that has been created and planned to cater to the needs, wants, and whims of our existence.

I began to feel a sour knot developing in my stomach, induced from all of the advertisements with an “In your face” feel to them. From a restaurant’s proclamation of a “better day ahead” to the auto shop announcing they specialize in muffler repair by going as far to say “no muff to tuff”. All the ’Buy this, Try that, We have what you need, next exit on Be Somebody Avenue’.  But I really got to hand it to the Hooters billboard for sticking in my head the deepest.

Is this a “Man’s man place”, do they really dress like that and what… serve me chicken wings? The billboard came to life for a moment, quickly born was the ultra squeaky voice of a waitress that resembled more of a Barbie doll look-alike wearing the restaurant’s uniform. She spoke (mouse squeaked) the billboard banner, “Delightfully tacky, yet unrefined”. What the hell does that mean? That made no sense to me. I had to ask my now alive image of someone who may in fact dress differently on the week ends, maybe she wears those sweat pants that read “PINK”, “HOTTIE” or “JUICY” across the back of the seat of her pants when she is at the grocery store. Who knows maybe she THINKS her backside looks just that good to be able to share that information with everyone around. ”Are those real, or do you put a lot of tissue under there, is your ego over stuffed as well with the same brand of tissue, does it add weight to your IQ?” Thats what I wanted to know. 

HEY, marketing teams of America when will you quit trying to pump so much shit into the minds of the young and let them discover who they are without the influence of what is thought to be “cool” or “hip” when you and I both know it’s what you can sell. There really are people out there that dont care for the coppertone babewatch or the rock and roll with the Jonas Bros look. Being yourself adds to your worth, and in realizing that draws interest, otherwise your’e just the run of the mill and boring. 

Im not old, I just see through it. I know what turns me on, people being real. Not much money in that though huh?

I hit a big speed bump filling out the section about references, at this point I almost gave up on the whole thing  because I realistically only know a few people who would say nice things about me anyway, and therefore can only use a handful of names. So I did the next best thing, I guessed. I wrote down phone numbers and addresses of the many people I knew once upon a time to the best of my recollection. If this employer checks the validity of these, I really hope they can look beyond that I think one of the numbers was for Pizza Hut in Modesto, CA., because I’d really be fine on Mars. So long as I could come back to visit my family every so often, and the pay is anything more than what I’m making now. Im a steal, a real go-to kinda guy that hits the ground running, an asset!

Times are definitely tough, but I’d be a great candidate for the job. I have seen Mars many times in my telescope, I have always been fascinated with space, I am no stranger to long distance traveling and I love to sleep when I’m not working so I’d be ok getting there. Im mechanically inclined (I do all the maintenance work on my jeep), so once I land I can pull all the dents from the pod’s body and flush the transmission fluid. It would be good to go in no time at all. And I’m a rock hound, thats gotta help. For years I have worked on ships and I still have my FCC communications license, and I WORK HARD! Again with all the kick ass qualifications.

I really didnt understand the statement that read “You are not obligated to answer the following questions, but in doing so you would help our further understanding…” Question number one, “skin color” -Not quite “lily white”. Question number two “religion” -Other (witchcraft still bugs people). Question number three “sexual orientation” (…I’M APPLYING TO GO TO MARS!! I wonder if there are any Martians that look like Kathrine Zeta Jones, because she could fart on a biscuit and I’d still eat it!) -Straight. That was stupid, again hoping this leans things in my favor.

After signing my name under penalty of the long arm of the law, I swished a prayer back and forth between my front teeth 3X3 times (thats my OCD, placement and numbers. I hate it too, sorry) and realized the soup I had earlier needed more salt. I licked that envelope like I have never licked an envelope before, with passion, hope, and for better things to come. I can say now, I love the taste of envelope glue. I put on my shoes and ran to the corner mail box… it was off. As the envelope slid from my hand and made that real cool sound that envelopes make as they slide down the back side of the door and and hit other envelopes who also remain in wait, I had admired how the legs of the mail box were bolted to the ground and a chain was set with the side-walk concrete. My letter was protected, the notification secure. But I gave the box a good leaning on any way, just checking.  

When I got home, I was sickened to find the same amount of stamps in the booklet as before my filling of the marathon questionnaire. I forgot to put a stamp on my sponge of an envelope dripping with prayer. I then kicked myself in the groin.

A part-time gig at Chevron would be just fine as well, I wonder if they are hiring? It looks as though they make a lot of money anyway… 

I hope 99% of your day is going well, with the remaining 1% there to teach lessons and stretch your mind. There will be a run of posts seen on the public page that are password protected. Im saying this because I have been very open with you all thus far, and will continue without fatigue; these are the writings of Foedus Veritas Covenant of Visalia, they are internal whispers that are intimate and private and have been transcribed with the ultimate in trust, care and permission from each of the authors. Please navigate around them, look to the right of your screen and use the category tabs to assist you in happy time spent here. 

Oleke